The Inner Peace Police

Hello My Friends,

I’m writing to tell you that my fingers are broken and can no longer type anything that requires typing. You may well ask, “howma na heck are you broken fingers? Anyhow?” Then again, you may not ask that.

Please do NOT ask that.

The reason my fingers are broken is because they are not broken at all, merely sleeping in a typing trance that occurs each week during the Morshnayvian Lunar Cycle. Previously I was riding a Pepto Dismal Cycle, but that one only had 14 wheels so I switched back to the Bread Flavored Hamper Cycle. It coasts down hills really well, but the brakes are made of chalk dust; and that of course cannot be used in soups any longer.

Please refer to your Fronkle’s Universal Dictionary for a new and soil proof container for your unwanted dander. If you decide your dander is too oily for soil, gently injure the nearest lamp tossing machine and stand back while the multicolored fizzing foam engulfs your left elbow.

Thanks very much for being. I know you all are, and I’m truly grateful that this is. Hey, if you weren’t, you simply wouldn’t be; and then of course my thanks for your being would soon roll hastily toward the nearest asparagus burrito.

At this point, I must beseech unto you: If you do not enjoy this upcoming weekend, or any other day for that matter, I shall be forced to report you to the Inner Peace Police. If those guys apprehend your frownings, you’ll be mandated to toss marshmallows into the gopher hole. Soon after that, your presence will be requested at the North American Sandwich Throwing Contest, which is never held at midnight on top of Old Smokey.

Stand proudly during a meeting and give each of your office supplies a name; and tell them jokes often with a very big voice. This activity will very will very quickly let you know who you can trust.

Now I will go back to my finger realignment. Please call my veterinarian and find out if my lunch is still there.

Thank you,

Abner L. Pignibbler

a.k.a. “Mr. Kaboom”

And now for more varnish tray zipper waddles…

An Important Corporate Bulletin

Dear Underlings,

As I’m sure none of you are aware, the consensus reached during the recent Corporate Rally And Preparation meeting (CRAP) was that communication has been lacking.  It is in this spirit that we announce the following additions; designed to complement the guidelines of our Company Hospitality Enhancement Additions Policy (CHEAP).

All that being said, we’re excited to announce to all of you that new tasting tanks have been installed in Room 1023.  You can enjoy the flavor of any gravy or fruit salad by merely entering the tank and setting the knob to 2.3 while pointing your index fingers to Alpha Centauri and / or Cleveland.

Please be certain to wear protective clothing while tasting the new entries on the Flavor Dials.  Each dial has a luminous cramp lantern designed to strike fear in the hearts of any lingering mole wrench sleeveless hydrocarbons.The new entries, of course, include Swiss, Roquefort, and Toe cheeses.  Utmost caution is urged, however; as no one is completely certain as to the effect of cutting the cheese in the confines of the tank. Enjoy the scented antler handles in full view of the sinus chipper mechanism.

Many of you may also have noticed the velvet coating that has recently been applied to the walls and floors in the cafeteria.  This should allow grumpy employees to increase their fluffiness after the mandatory face rubbings.  Face Time will be scheduled during breaks and lunches to allow others to photograph the Softness Surprise Sessions that will be accompanied by a very large accordion with percussive inquisitions.  Be sure to wear your mask and rub your face only on designated, pre-sanitized areas.

Last but by no means least, Karl and Milly-Rae Snortwaffle have agreed to spearhead our saliva collections again this year.  As in previous years, it would be very much appreciated if all of you could please make sure your contribution lands in the Collection Vessel, rather than on Karl or Milly-Rae’s shoes.  Although both Mr. and Mrs. Snortwaffle enjoyed the shiny, yet ucky patina on their safety boots, they also reported sudden nausea and gagging when they tried to unlace before dinner time.  Thanks in advance to Karl and Milly-Rae for keeping the Spit Vats full so our machines are automagically lubricated during these challenging economic times.

If you have any questions about the use of the tasting tanks, velvet face rubs, or Spit Central, please call 800-555-1212 and ask for Mr. Crinkleberry.  He will never really help you, but he is an excellent listener and has been known to make really good dingleberry jam.

Thank you,

Francis “Golden Boy” Jinglepockets

President and CEO, StinkyInks, Inc.

And now for something completely different…

Silly School Tips

Hello Persons,

Although it is still the dog days of summer, The Labor Day will be one more time coming to visit us, and the schools may or may not open due to the COVID-19 indignation. Regardless, I have some very important suggestions that are enumerated below (see the BIG words I am using?? This must be important!!); and I will now use my bestest English sentence structure and grandma to present whatever it was I was trying to mention. Since nobody requested any guidance from the likes of me, I will hereby place it in front of your eyes anyway, regardless of your willingness to enjoy and / or utilize what I consider to be the very best methods of succeeding at school; and if you don’t agree with me please just remember that this needlessly long run-on sentence is my proud rendition of very important tips that everyone had just better embrace with great enthusiasm so I don’t have to get Gornok, my very large pet monster, involved for enforcement. You get what I’m sayin’???

This is irreverent to the need for some residual guidelines of good, down-home, school amplification tips. I have decomposed a few of these gridlines, as shown below, which have never helped me use a mirror to look myself in the eye and exclaim, “YOU! You again!! Quit following me!!” Of course, these days I am pretty good friends with me so it’s OK if I follow myself around now.

So, as you approach the school days of your present hello, please remember these simple things, which I’m sure will help you or perhaps your offspring greatly on a daily basis:

1) Wear your socks on your hands and bark at the teachers. This will keep their attention while you are nearby.

2) Sell used insects during and after class. You can increase your earnings by autographing the exoskeletons of these nice little creatures. Very collectible and easy to store.

3) Carry 7 1/2 foot lengths of rusty pipe between classes. People will leave you alone and let you have all the room you need in the halls.

4) Give me lots of money. I like money. This is good, to give it to me. You may hand it to me, or e-mail it to: noway@nuh-uh.com.

5) Trade your pens and pencils for very large crayons and chalk. Use these to do your homework, especially that which MUST be typed. If confronted about your workmanship, tell the teachers that these are the only things your pet hyena will not eat.

6) GET THAT CHICKEN OFF MY SHOULDER!! Huh? It’s a fly? Oh, OK!! Whew!! Sorry…

7) .backwards sentences your all write ,it of fun the for Just .order reverse in words the put just is mean I What .correctly do to difficult very be can This .sometime it Try

8) Mix occasionally in a sentence up the words. English teachers can tested be way this, to see attention if they are paying. Surprised you might be, find to out many how not really teachers reading homework are carefully very.

9) Lern two spel and dew it korrekly at awl thymes. Yoo mossed bee eggstreamly cairfull abowt chekking yor werk.


10) Punctuation! Is very? Important in proper, sentence, structure use it correctly don’t you hate it when people don’t.

Very well then. I’m happy to excrete that now you are prepared for anything that may fall into your potato salad. Enjoy the weekend, and always remember that it’s better to be you than for you to be me; and although you can count to it, eight is a word, not a number.

OK fine,

Klern Forkstabber

Imitation Education Expert

Bribley Lamp Cord Museum

Room 421

Viffleburp, New Honkney 1020103

And now please to enjoy these two videos of the amazing foot tapping bippity bops of Gracie, George, and Fred.

An Open Letter To Friends Or Others

Dear Service Warmers,

Thank you for ingesting both pots of crayfish broth during the Great Mustard Festival. After all, one can never be certain how long a 6 inch, foot long Sumpway Sand Witch will turn out to be; especially when it has long been known that TV antennas never make good Snackwonder Surprise.

Today I received reinforcement of my long standing belief that there is a neurological connection between my hiney and my head bone. This I have determined by venturing from my typing chair, this one here that I’m sitting on, in my writing room, where I am writing to you while typing and wondering what it was I should actually be telling you.

So there I was, approximately 676 feet above sea level (plus or minus 3 million miles), thinking that because I used my aging body in the garden today and it hurts in various places, maybe I should go downstairs and get some aspirin; so I got out of my chair, started out the door of my typing room (which I use for writing) (in addition to sitting) (and now the excessive use of parentheses in an already clunky run-on sentence), and lo and behold I completely forgot what for I was going down the stairs to get something; I have no idea what the heck it was. Shortly thereafter (well OK, my body didn’t get shortened because I was the same size, but it wasn’t very much time) I mumbled to myself out loud so my ear things could induce vomiting:

“What the…?”

“What was I gonna…??”

“Why was I going downstairs???”

I come back; I sit down, and VOILA!! My brain thing in my headbone was now retrieving memory information. I go for to put the aspirin into my mouth place and wash it down with some dihydrogen oxide. Therefore, the logical contusion is: my hiney and brain are connected somehow.

Please, no butt head jokes.  Unless you want to.

OK. So back to the original premise that all of you Wonderful Yankle Tramplers out there were so very helpful with drinking 72 gallons of crayfish squeezin’s during the Grape Custard Vestibule. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to sell that stuff on the street corner?? After a few hours it begins to smell like someone was storing tuna fish salad in my sneakers. After only 47 minutes you can bet your sweet golf hammer I’ve filled my nostrils with marbles to prevent the barfstinkens from floating into my smellgrabber organs. And if you’ve ever heard “Inna Gadda Da Vida” on the smellgrabber organ, well you know you’ve been treated to some of the best doggone Snot Marble Surprise this side of Eastern New Sniffington.

Very well then. I must go find solace in my cat’s new molar polishing machine. In the meantime my friends, I leave you with the wisdom of that age-old someone whose circular germinations you may or may not have ever endured:

It’s always better to be you than for you to be me; and although you can count to it, “eight” is a word.

And now it’s time for the video thing.  If you listen very closely to the words of this song, you’ll notice that it makes at least as much sense as all the stuff you’ve read until now on this page of story weirdness with your eyes that you use for reading.

On the other hand, you have the smellgrabber song…

COVID Conundrums

So there I was, reading about all the new spikes in COVID-19 cases throughout the land, then jumping up and running with great speed to the garden to do some weeding and maybe some picking; and no, I didn’t really jump or run because it’s CRAZY HOT OUTSIDE so it was really more of an amble, or perhaps a sashay, but even a sashay would take too much energy in this heat; and although this sentence is way too long I just don’t care because I’m the one who’s writing it and you’re the one who’s reading it so like who’s the real silly person now, right??

Ha ha on youse!!

Speaking of youse… are youse kids staying safe out there? Social distancing? Wearing your hands and washing your masks? Or maybe the reverse of that last one?? Well by golly I sure hope so. I know we are; and that of course means that my Beautiful Girlfriend and I have been very closely visiting with each other for the past um… 4 months I think. No going to the movies, no gatherings, and only able to hug a very select few family members because we are very certain that they are doing their part also. And yes, by doing their part I of course mean wearing a mask in public, washing their hands 6 feet apart, and socially distancing their hand sanitizers. Or something like that.

Don’t lick the counter tops at the store please.

Thankfully, my Lovely Bride has not yet removed my nostrils with a pitchfork due to any perceived wisecracks or nasty looks. And I’m hoping she is grateful that I have not put her Tupperware in the oven at 400 degrees just for that one thing she may or may not have said; or that eye-roll I may or may not have noticed. That’s not to say that we haven’t had any interludes of abrasive verbal stinkrot or spontaneously combustible annoyance. I mean hey, it’s not really likely that two people who are cooped up together for months will never have a tense day.

Especially if you’re married!!

But we’ve done pretty well I think. I can say that reliably because we’ve confessed our ornery ocky-pitoo poopenheimers to friends and family and both of us have reached the same conclusion: our spats have been very few and very brief.

One may well ask, “how do youse two kids remain so stinkin’ harmonious??” The answer to that is simple, really. We do really weird things that we’ve been doing for many years. We say, “please,” and “thank you.” We tell each other “I Love You” every day (OK, probably multiple times a day). We stay in tune with each other’s moods; and when we smell trouble we try to nip it in the stinkbag as quickly as possible. Communication. Kindness. Love. Things that probably should come naturally, but in reality these are skills that take practice and constant honing. And when we fall short, we do another really weird thing: apologize. And that is followed up by something even more really weird: we try not to make the same mistakes again. Reminds me of that ancient philosopher, Henny Youngman:

A guy goes to the doctor, moves his arm and says, “Doctor!! It hurts when I do this!!”

The doctor replies, “Don’t to that!!”

So this COVID stuff can be a test of all things human. But there really are no conundrums. All of us just need to work together, stay safe, and try really hard not to bite each other’s heads off.

Simple, right??

Globs Of Mugg And A Rented Blanex

Dear Friends,

The news has been rather stressful lately. I’m so trinkled by all of the fizzpop that I really can’t bear to lick the remote control!! I’m here to say, that for me, there is no better stress relief than writing and / or reading nonsense. Well, there probably are other remedies for stress warts, but nonsense is a good thing for my earwax to enjoy one of those good ones.

Things.

Things include chocolate, the wonder drug of the universe. Chocolate is so doggoned good it should probably be a controlled substance. But someone wisely made it into candy long ago, so now it is completely acceptable in foot smelling contests at the  Annual Martian Rhubarb Flinging Derby. I often cover things with chocolate. My car is brown and slimy as a direct result of this behavior. This is a bit strange when it gets really warm outside, because as I approach expressway cruising speed I get brown globs of mugg that splook the windshield. This challenges my dexterity at times, because I often stick my whole face out the window for chocolate catching. I never enjoyed bug covered chocolate before this very time!!

I rented a Blanex last weekend. I needed to recover the hammer sand that was purging my swamp hockey. Run, run, run down a salty road to find the tingly science filters living in the boathouse. Do you ever expect the train to stop on time? Nobody sees that far, so just resimplify your twenty three percent milktoast warblers and bark moonly at the wild. You’ll never be stronger for it.

My Hair has a VERY ugly pair of pajamas that reeks of GIANT, TWELVE-TOED MONKEY SNAKE ENDOCRINE GLANDS!!!  And believe me, that’s pretty darned green and fluffy!  I know a fossil hunter when I hear one, and if you don’t put that stink bomb away right now I’ll sell you a brown leather bedpost at the crack of noon!  Do you understand me??  Good golly, I hope not.

Now that you’ve sampled the goat raisins, you are ready to progress to the next step:  wonkling.  Wonkling can be very stationary and exquisitely mobile.  Use something to do a task, throw it in the air, and use it no more.  This is the way of the stationary wonkler.  Change lanes abruptly, apply heat to an iron molecule, and shake your hair until the electrons fall off.  This is the way of the mobile wonkler.  Wonkle like you’ve never wonkled before.  That will show them!!  I find deep fried owl toes a most enjoyable snack while driving heavy whipping cream through the vegetable cemetery.

And now for the shaming:

Do you use toothpaste for tire repair?     Of course not!

Do you slurp fried chicken through a cheese grater??    I hope so!!

Do you walk to school or carry your lunch??    Absolutely!!

Does cat fur remind you of candles made of Jell-O??    If so, you are my kind of snail sniffer!!

OK, that’s probably quite enough shame for one year or so. Just remember what COULD have happened.  I mean hey, we can’t all be influenced by loofah sponges, now can we??

Remove this teleprompter from your jailing list.

Do it today.

And now for a truly delicious version of Bohemian Rhapsody by some of my favorite…um… artists(?)

Life Without Facebook

Oh my God!! I haven’t been on Facebook today!! At all. Not even a little bit.

Am I OK??

Yes, I think I’m just fine. Whew!! I was worried there for a few nanoseconds. Well OK, I wasn’t really worried. Actually found myself doing things other than what’s found on the interwebs, believe it or not. Weird stuff like visiting with family for example. I mean, we were in the same room together and everything!! No hugging, unfortunately. Our dear Niece and her family have been traveling so we had to use caution.

Oh wait!! It’s my Beautiful Girlfriend’s birthday so I did get on the BookFace briefly to: A) post a Happy Birthday greeting and 12) show her (again) how to get to her other greetings.

Don’t get me wrong, I do love to stay in touch with family and friends. Way back when, I tried MySpace for awhile. That was fun, then Facebook came along and seems to have largely run away with the prize. Sure there are other “fascinating” things like Pinterest, Instagram, Tik Tok and Twitter, whatever the heck those are. Oh alright, Tik Tok is cute, maybe even addictive. I’ve tried Twitter, but I must be too much of a twit to tweet. Twitter just doesn’t rock my socks if you know what I mean. And as for Pinterest and all those other ones out there; I have a very open minded opinion of them all: I just don’t care!

Seems like I’m drifting more away from Facebook as time goes on; although I’ll be the first to admit that it was kind of a blast when it first arrived. Wasn’t really that much different from its predecessor MySpace; maybe a little more robust. A warped mind like mine likes to play with names; especially when they are famous brand names. Therefore, it wasn’t too long after I signed up for Facebook that I began calling it Spaceface or Mybook. Then a friend at work told me it was actually Facepage. I’ve decided to compromise and call it BookFace; which is really not a compromise at all but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

So there.

When I started watching what folks were posting on Spacebook, at times I was a bit astonished. Personal phone numbers, address information, everything short of their Social Security numbers! My job as a computer support geek boy has afforded me some healthy respect for hackers; spam marketeers and identity thieves; so there is very little personal information about me on my Twitface page. Even my name is altered: Mudwinkle Dustflinger. Of course, I do write this blog thing in which I basically pour my heart out to whoever cares to read it. But at least they won’t have much to go on if they try to steal my identity or send me very important e-mails about male enhancement pills or inheritances waiting for me in Nigerian bank accounts.

Then of course you have the mean, nasty and often completely false posts that are simply to designed to get a person’s hackles up and / or prey upon their gullibility.

So here I am, writing “Happy Friday!!!” when it’s very late outside, because we were having “face time” with our wonderful family. And no I don’t mean virtual Face Time… this was actually face to face, in person, in living color. And what am I gonna do after I get done with my scribblings? I’m gonna blast it out to the netweb via e-mail and Pagebook.

However, I’ve made an important decision that I believe will enhance my serenity and mental health: I’ll probably be posting to the SpaceFaceTwitBookPageThing less and enjoying real, live-and-in-color life living a lot more.

Now this has absolutely nothing to do with the interwebs or PageTwit, but I hope you like it as much as I did. The story is from 100 years ago, no interwebs, no TV… no sound!! Give it a try. You might like it.

Everybody (Still) Has Cooties

During prehistoric times when I was a kid, there were no video games or interwebs; so we had to find creative ways to amuse ourselves. Often, games of tag were morphed into various forms. One such form was to tag someone as “it” and proclaim loudly that the person had cooties. “Aaaaggghhh!!! Kenny’s got cooties!!! Run!!!” And we would scatter like wild little animals to avoid becoming “it.”

There was a more serious (and even repulsive) meaning back in those days, as many adults of the time referred to head lice as cooties. However, it would seem that the childish notions eventually won out, as evidenced by the arrival of The Game of Cootie; which involved constructing a cootie from parts that were garnered via the rolling of a die. These days, to say that someone or some thing has cooties is a way of expressing a dislike or perhaps even disgust toward that person or thing.

Now here we are in the midst of a pandemic. People all over the globe are getting killed by this deadly virus called COVID-19. By now we’ve all heard the guidelines to prevent contracting and spreading the virus. Here in Michigan, our Governor drew sharp criticism for issuing executive orders to prevent a bad situation from becoming worse. Her willingness to make tough decisions based on scientific evidence has paid off: the rate of new disease cases has fallen dramatically. Things are looking better, and slowly but surely the state is opening back up.

My wife and I tuned our brains into all the precautions very early for two simple reasons: 1) she has a preexisting lung illness and 2) we are in the “high risk” age group (over 65). We still wear a mask when we go to the store; and diligently wash or sanitize our hands and other objects when we’ve been outside our home. We’re also very selective as to which other humans we allow into our home. If we are not completely confident that they are following the guidelines; we make sure we minimize contact or at the very least we maintain social distance.

My Beautiful Girlfriend (a.k.a. my wife) and our Beautiful Daughter are both nurses. They know how to stay safe; which means they know what’s OK and what’s not OK. It has only been recently that we were able to visit with our grandchildren. And even more recently, hugging was finally allowed (no smooches!!). We have a list of “safe people” which includes our son, daughter, son in law, grandchildren, and a very small number of friends.

Since the opening up of various businesses, etc. we have noticed an increased number of people who don’t wear masks. There are also gatherings that are taking place; some of which are not being very mindful of social distancing. While we’d love to join the fun and have everything return to normal; we are holding back and remaining cautious. My Beautiful Girlfriend has often referred to me as her “social butterfly.” I’m the one who welcomes new friends and new social situations. But this COVID-19 stuff is serious business. It would likely kill my Lovely Bride. Therefore, until we each get a proven vaccine; we’ll continue to assume that everyone still has cooties.

Hope all of you are well; and hope you stay safe. This is not a game!

Well OK, these videos are about games…

A Real Opportunity

Those of you who read this column know it as “Happy Friday!!!” Well I’m sorry but after all the unrest in our nation this past week; I can’t be very jolly tonight. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful. I’m grateful that we raised “colorblind” kids. Well as colorblind as middle class white folks can be anyway. Recent events have provoked deep sadness in our hearts. Everyone in our family feels a continuous gnawing pain in our hearts at what seems to be a perpetuation of racism, violence, and discrimination in our world. The effects of the pandemic were already exemplifying the economic inequalities all over the planet. Add that to preexisting racial injustice and the horribly sad death of George Floyd; and the short fuse of humanity’s powder keg was lit.

People who know me understand that I’m forever the idealist. In spite of all the horror, I’ve latched on to what I see as an opportunity for meaningful change. Early protests have been marred by instigators and opportunists who took advantage of police forces being stretched thin. However, more and more mobilization of peaceful protests have garnered the attention of the entire world; and protests have spread globally.

When I was a kid we protested against racial injustice. We protested against war. We protested against gender inequality. We protested against the poisoning of Mother Nature. Yet here we are again. I’m not foolish enough to suggest that these crimes against humanity and Mother Nature can be rectified quickly. It will take constant effort; and yes, most likely, more protests. But protests are empty actions if we sit on our laurels and watch the yelling from afar. At the very least, all of us must VOTE. And of course, all of us can treat everyone we meet with respect.

Every day.

We can do this. We must do this. Otherwise, we’ll just end up sad, frightened, frustrated and exhausted.

What kind of life would that be??

It’s all been going on too long.

Gratefully Safe

The news has been rather dreadful this past week. Milestone numbers of Covid-19 deaths, racial injustice; international tensions. It’s almost unhealthy to tune in and witness it all.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m a spoiled American. I live in a safe community. With very few exceptions, folks around here are decent, caring people. If I had a magic wand, I’d wave it and make the world safe and healthy for everyone. Obviously, it just doesn’t work that way. To paraphrase one of my favorite prayers, I have to accept things I can’t change. I will definitely vote and hope my voice helps to promote a better world. I already vote with my money; by spending it at local businesses wherever possible, but otherwise doing my best to avoid products that insult Mother Nature.

Lots of folks are all buzzing about and grimacing from the stay at home orders and social distancing. Life has changed in some very big ways. Nobody loves change, including me. However, I’m getting a little better at keeping the negative fire storms out of my head. Being annoyed is one thing; but my magnifying mind can, if let loose, really run with a grudge that ends up being harmful to me and those around me.

At our house, we’re being careful to listen to the medical experts and scientists. We are staying at home to stay safe. We wear masks in public places; sometimes protective gloves also. We wash our hands regularly, and when we can’t do that we sanitize as quickly as possible. We’ve also learned to stay in close contact with folks who are very good at reminding me to stay grateful and just try to do the next right thing. Bless them… they’re probably getting a bit weary of my rants when I start spouting off about all the injustices in the world. They’ve heard it before, and before that, and before that. Yet, they seem to love me anyway! Not sure how anyone else works it all out; but I need to vent to someone who understands when I’m hurting inside. The way it works for me is to vent until I get tired of hearing it myself. Fortunately, I’ve become aware that if I allow anger and resentment to fester in my heart, I’m basically poisoning myself. Being livid about things over which I have no control is about as effective as eating a poison pill and expecting someone else to die.

My Beautiful Girlfriend and I will continue to strive to be safe and as happy as possible. And I’m going to try to avoid dipping into the poison pots of social dysfunction. After all, the only thing I have any control over is how I react to all these “wonderful” things that are happening in the world.

When my serenity alarm goes off, I need to remind myself to run through my “gratitude list.” I am healthy and I have the love of a beautiful woman. She even let me marry her! We have cars that work, a nice home, plenty to eat. We have loving relationships with our offspring, relatives and friends. Life really is good at our house.

No poison for me thanks. I need to make gratitude my attitude. Sometimes it takes a bit of work to pull it off, but life is much more peaceful when I succeed.

Can you tell I’m practicing?

So here’s proof positive that we are spoiled Americans. If you are reading this, it means that you have access to the internet. And if you have internet, you have access to Buddy Hackett. Say what?? Well just watch. We all could use a good laugh right now. Thank you Buddy… even though you’re in Heaven you gave my Lovely Bride and me some very nice belly laughs tonight. Very good medicine after watching the news!!