This was submitted by Alan Remington from Anchorage, Alaska.

If you used every letter in the alphabet and put it in front of “Lucky!!!”, remove the “L”, that dog would come to you. Funny,
huh. She’d even come to “Car key”. It didn’t matter to her. Insults and lies will offend no dog. Especially Lucky. Food-whore from the very start. If you had something in your hands, she assumed it was food and she was entitled to it. Perfect for after-dinner clean up. Slip the plates down onto the floor and let her go. Lucky was in heaven.

By the beginning of July, if you haven’t gotten your line wet yet, what are you waiting for? Most of Alaska is in a hub-bub getting to the water. If you are unfortunate enough to still be sorting out all your gear from last year, you are not alone. Keep after it. It’ll make sense after a while. The tents set up in driveway aren’t staying there, they’ve just been water-proofed.

And Dan and Clyde arrived last night from Arizona. Clyde loves to fish and who doesn’t. Especially here. Land of the midnight sun. The most perfect campsite in the world. It doesn’t matter what time you start to get ready for fishing or what time it is when you leave or what time it is when you finally get there. The midnight sun is enough light to set up camp.

We rolled all the tents over to finish drying and I noticed Dan and Clyde over beside the garage. Looks like they’re bent over something or working on something together. “What’s that?”, I said. Clyde lifts her head, “salmon eggs”. Dan never moved. He was concentrating so hard. As I approached I saw they were trying to find a nice flat spot to set the 2 flats of freshly brined eggs. So they settled for an appropriate spot together.

They both seemed to enjoy each other’s company. And the eggs looked almost good enough to eat, but of course, do not!!!!!!!

As the day progresses, the gear that once lined the driveway has slowly been removed. By now, folks are beginning to wind-down for the day, after all it’s 11:00pm. It’s so easy to lose track of time. The television is on but no one listens. Company is wonderful; “Oh shit”!, says Clyde. “We left the eggs outside”! So, out the door they go to get the eggs and are right back just as quick.

I know Clyde is proud of all her work on those eggs. I can see it in her face. She looks at me and asked if I had moved the eggs………. Like I had. I said no and she’s not believing me, I can tell. After some discussion, everyone went outside to find the eggs. By the book, as they say, and still no eggs. Everyone is intrigued with the mystery.

We had to abandon the search until morning when daylight might reveal more. And it did. The best spot for the eggs was up on top of the snow machine trailer…. high enough to keep Lucky off. She’s so old, she struggles going up stairs and has to take a break on the way up. Evidence showed drag marks on the deck and the color was right. I decided to go find Lucky.

Perhaps she did get the eggs and if so, my God, she’ll die. Peering inside her mouth and around her gums didn’t help. Her gums were pink………. “Never fear”., I said. “Lucky will show us whether she ate the eggs or not…..later today or tomorrow, right, Lucky”?

Just like clock work, she showed us. Pink, pink, not so pink, everywhere you looked. “guilty as charged!”. She had eaten the 2 flats alright. Her stomach was growling long rolling grumbles. Passing gas was ongoing anyway but she really didn’t seem to be acting any differently. It was obvious she was hungry. I can’t figure out how she got on the trailer. Food whore.

Lucky came with the house. Indeed. The previous owners didn’t want her any more and would have taken her to the pound. Outdoors year round, house training was a long struggle and eventually she figured it out. At 5 or 6 yrs. old, training was slow. We replaced the front door as well as changed “the swing”. It took Lucky a couple of weeks to figure it out. A week and a half for BJ. I was lucky, I installed it.

So , Lucky has been lucky. However, I prefer to think of her as “fortunate”.

We all know that Virgil and Florena live on the far end of the Sawyer Brook Road and even from there it is quite a walk from the road into their farm. Virgil keeps a few sheep in a pasture near the road on the southern side. He was out looking after his sheep one day when a man driving a Lincoln Navigator pulled up beside the road, got out and walked toward Virgil.

“Good morning!” the man yelled. Virgil knew right away he wasn’t dealing with no local here, not driving that ark of a vehicle and dressed the way he was.

The man was a real city slicker, a dude, a crook and dishonest as the day is long. Most of what he had he never earned. Virgil knew the man probably came from the greater Boston area.

“Say, there farmer man,” began the dude. “I would like a sheep to add to my collection. I tell you what. If I can guess exactly how many sheep you have total here in the pasture, will you give me one of your sheep?”

Virgil thought that was a very odd request but considering who he was dealing with, he played along with the fool.

“Sure, I guess,” answered Virgil.

The crooked city slicker mumbled a couple times then without even looking out into the pasture he tells Virgil he has exactly 66 sheep.

Virgil, being as honest as the day is long, told the man he was right and told him to go pick out his sheep.

The man did and as he was loading the animal in the back of his Navigator, Virgil says, “If I can correctly guess which city you’re from, can I have my dog back?”

Mainard True

Mainard True

I found this little ditty in my inbox this morning I thought I’d share. Seems appropriate for the times.

While walking down the street one day a US senator is tragically hit by a truck and dies.

His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.
‘Welcome to heaven,’ says St. Peter. ‘Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we’re not sure what to do with you.’

‘No problem, just let me in,’ says the man.

‘Well, I’d like to, but I have orders from higher up. What we’ll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you
can choose where to spend eternity.’

‘Really, I’ve made up my mind. I want to be in heaven,’ says the senator.

‘I’m sorry, but we have our rules.’

And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.
Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people.

They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and champagne.
Also present is the devil, who really is a very friendly guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes. They are having such a good time that before he realizes it, it is time to go.

Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises…
The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him.

‘Now it’s time to visit heaven.’

So, 24 hours pass with the senator joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.

‘Well, then, you’ve spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity.’

The senator reflects for a minute, then he answers: ‘Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell.’

So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell.
Now the doors of the elevator open and he’s in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage.
He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags as more trash falls from above.
The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulder.

‘I don’t understand,’ stammers the senator. ‘Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there’s just a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. What happened?’

The devil looks at him, smiles and says, ‘Yesterday we were campaigning…… Today you voted.’

Tom Remington

As all of you probably already know, the New England Patriots lost in the Super Bowl yesterday, which you know led to a lot of tempers flaring. When that happens humans exude tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere raising the earth’s temperature. You know that the snow and ice of New England must be running down the drains today.

But I am here to tell you about my effort to keep my Super Bowl Sunday “green”.

When I wake up, my normal routine is to take a shower, shave, put on clean clothes, open up an ice cold bottle of Pepsi-Cola, sit down in front of my computer and begin reading emails. The Pepsi makes me burp and fart further adding to global warming and when I read my emails, which includes comments on this blog and others, I get mad often emitting huge quantities of hot air and releasing uncontrolled bursts of flatulence. But not this day.

I skipped my shower because I knew I would be saving water and using less hot water meant saving energy. To heck with any clean clothes, the dirty ones were good enough. I didn’t want to have to unnecessarily waste more water, energy and pollute the earth with soap from the washing machine.

I really didn’t know if antiperspirant was carbon friendly or not, so I took my solid stick out to my wife and stuck it under her nose to smell. “Does that smell like it’s carbon neutral to you?” I asked.

My perfect plan for having a super green Super Bowl Sunday began to go up in flames when my wife began screaming at me asking me what in the hell I thought I was doing. I told her to calm down before she killed another polar bear. Regardless, my wife didn’t really respond in a way that helped me to figure out about the antiperspirant, so I took matters into my own hands and used some simple logic.

I figured it this way. If I used the pit stop, I might actually over heat even if ever so slightly because I do know that the body acts like its own thermostat and regulates better when it sweats. I put the deodorant stick back in the bathroom, took a whiff under my arms and concluded that even though it wasn’t the most pleasant smell, I couldn’t help but think about the polar/grizzly hybrid bear that got shot a couple years ago because it seems that this never would have happened if I’d stopped using antiperspirant a long time ago.

I wanted awfully to use my new-at-Christmas Remington electric shaver because it’s so cool but as I reached for it, I was overcome with guilt. Think of the native brook trout in Northern Maine dying because the water’s now too warm. I looked in the mirror and once again utilized some rational thinking. “I’ve seen worse”, and I knew my friends would understand.

I thought some of going to the bathroom, you know a number two, that’s part of the morning routine, but I wondered if I held it in and tried to go only like twice a week if that would save a spotted owl? I pinched it off and went about my business.

Our plan for the day was to drive over to Plant City and go to the flea market, the farmer’s market, out to lunch and back to Plant City to watch the Super Bowl. My wife and I planned to travel to Plant City in our very green Toyota Corolla – 35 miles to the gallon. (Cue Kermit the Frog singing, “It’s not easy being green.”) Oh but it is……but wait. I had a better idea.

(In a low whisper so Al Gore doesn’t hear me.) I also own a Plymouth van, but wait, wait before you start demanding I pay fines and an extra carbon tax, I calculated out the carbon savings. Even though I would use more gas in my van than my Toyota, if I took it, everyone could ride with me and think of the gas I’d save. My, God! I just saved another baby seal!

Arriving in Plant City, I announced that we could all ride in my van but no unnecessary talking (carbon dioxide you know) and definitely no farting. I was still pinching real hard and by god everyone else could make some kind of sacrifice.

Traveling to the flea market, I remembered that the flea market and farmer’s market were about 4 miles apart by road. I suggested that we park someplace central and walk about two miles to the flea market, return to the van and walk the other two miles to the farmer’s market. If we did that, we could save another Chiricahua leopard frog. I think my friends weren’t seeing things my way. No wonder the earth is coming to an end. What, the 85-year old lady who walks with a cane can’t suck it up and “git-r-done”? Phhfit!

I want to tell you it is one hell of a sacrifice to walk around a flea market and the farmer’s market, a total of about 4 hours without farting at least once. I did drink a Pepsi at the farmer’s market and I had all I could do to keep from burping. I was sweating like an over worked butcher in August and I wasn’t feeling the love, brother.

I figured most everyone at the farmer’s market was right into saving our planet because I noticed they must be self-regulating their body temperatures too. Way to go Juan and Pablo.

I felt really badly and I knew I had to find a way of making up for the dent I put in our carbon footprint when everyone took a vote to go eat at Checkers – “You Gotta Eat”. But I got thinking about how PETA and others are saying we can help save the planet by going on a vegan diet. Part of the reason they say is because there are too many cows farting and pooping on this earth. Doesn’t it stand to reason that if we eat enough beef, we’ll kill off all the cows?

I filled my gastro-intestinal track with two double bacon cheddar burgers, fries and another Coke? I was feeling like I may explode.

Finally we made it back to our friends with at least 4 hours before kick off. Everyone decided to lay down and take naps but not me, mister. I know what can happen while you’re sleeping – uncontrolled seepages of methane gas and other things. I stayed awake being very conscious not to breathe heavily and debating how many plants and animals I would kill if I logged on to my friend’s computer on a Sunday.

I would guess I maintained about a carbon neutral level of emissions during the game. I had to eat again but I was careful what I consumed – mostly because I had to go to the bathroom real bad now. But all around me everyone was angry and yelling at the officials and saying awful, evil things about Ely Manning. I interrupted a couple times, having to yell to get their attention (yeah I know but critical moments require critical thinking), to tell them to calm down or they would be sure to kill a gray wolf in Pocatello, Idaho.

I remained very calm and said very little when Plaxico Burris caught the winning touchdown. It was actually a spiritual moment for me. I became one with the forests of the Amazon jungle. The truth is if I let it out I was really going to let it out.

I staggered home, setting my cruise control on 55 in order to save a Canada lynx and eased back into the high-back van seat to listen to my wife keep asking me why everyone around me was blowing their horns at us.

I settled into bed around 11:30 p.m. and hoped that morning would come very quickly, so I could go to the bathroom.

Mainard True

Virgil seldom had time for reading an all being so busy taking care of the farm and remaining out of sight of Florena so she wouldn’t find him more work but on occasion he would stop by the Andover Library.

If the truth be known, Virgil was a bit shy about stopping in at the library, especially if Glenda was there working. Virgil was scared of her because he thought she was “hitting” on him every time he went in.

Virgil had to go into town to run errands and pick up a few supplies and so he decided that with winter setting in hard, he would have more time to sit by the wood stove and read.

Sure ’nuff! When he walked in the door, there stood Glenda. Don’t get me wrong here. Glenda wasn’t any beauty queen but compared to Florena she was quite a looker and only a few years younger than Virgil.

Virgil hung a quick right and weaseled his way through the narrow aisles until he reached the section that contained the history books. Virgil, when he did read, liked to catch up on history.

He thought he was in the clear until Glenda came around the corner and said hello to him. He politely responded with a hello of his own, visibly blushing and shy.

Glenda sensing his embarrassment moved a bit closer and Virgil got really nervous not knowing what to do or say.

“Virgil,” said Glenda. “You look big and strong. Can you come into the back store room and help me get a book down from a very high shelf? I just can’t seem to reach it by myself.”

Virgil cleared his throat several times and began clamoring for excuses – anything so he didn’t have to go in the back room with Glenda. Of course much of his fear is of what Florena would do should she ever find out.

Virgil’s mind was racing until he finally came up with an idea. One that he learned after years of living with Florena.

“I know what, Glenda,” said Virgil trying hard to sound sincere and strong. “Why don’t you and I just pretend we are married!”

“Ooooooh!” replied Glenda. “This sounds really exciting, Virgil. I can’t wait to play. What do you want to PRETEND about first?”

That was easy for Virgil because he had it all figured out. “Now that we’re married, why don’t you just go get the damned book by yourself!”

Mainard True

Otis ain’t no drinking man but he does hang out at Al’s Bar over on Back Street. There always was some controversy that surrounded Al’s Bar because it’s the only bar in town – mind you this is a town of only 600 people. In downtown, there’s only one church and some thought it a might risky having but one church AND one bar.

Nevertheless, Al’s Bar was the hangout for a few and Otis frequents the place just to keep tabs on what’s going on around town and besides, he finds half liquored up men a good audience for his incessant drivel.

The head bar tender is named Jerry. Everyone thinks Jerry is the strongest man in town, perhaps all of Norther Oxford County. Others think he may be the strongest man in Al’s Bar and others simply don’t think at all.

When Jerry took over bar tending duties, he posted a “reward” sign in the bar that anyone who could outdo Jerry squeezing the juice out of a lemon, would win $1,000.00.

If challenged, Jerry would cut a lemon in half and squeeze on half of it into a glass. He would squeeze and squeeze with one hand only, those were the rules, until he could no longer get another drop out. If anyone could squeeze even one more tiny drop from that lemon, they would win the $1,000 prize.

Many tried and just as many failed until one day Otis came into Al’s escorting a strange man. The man was as skinny as a Penley’s toothpick, wore an old gray suit about a half size too small and a pair of “coke bottle” spectacles donned his face.

Jerry asks of Otis, “Who’s your friend there Otis?”

“This is Poindexter!” replied Otis. “He’s in town on business and he thinks he can squeeze one more drop out of one of your lemons, Jerry.”

The bar was full, after all it was Friday night and upon Otis’ announcement the entire population broke out in a unison of laughter that lasted several minutes.

Jerry soon came to realize that Poindexter was serious, so he chopped a lemon in half and squeezed for all he was worth. Some thought Jerry might get a little lazy with his squeezing considering the competition but Jerry was no fool. No siree! As a matter of fact, when everyone thought Jerry was finished, Jerry took a deep breath and squeeze for all he was worth.

Poindexter stepped up to the bar and Jerry offered him a chance to back down. He declined and once again the patrons broke into laughter.

As Poindexter concentrated on the task at hand, the crowd began to quiet down in anticipation. Finally, Poindexter picked up the lemon and what seemed like very little effort, managed to squeeze 5 more drops out of the lemon. The crowd roared its approval.

Once the dust had settled, Jerry wanted to know what made Poindexter so strong.

“Are you a weightlifter? A lumberjack? What are you?” asked Jerry.

“I work for the IRS,” was his reply and silently walked out the door with $1,000 cash in hand.

Mainard True

Otis and Gabby had never been on a plane before (before what I don’t know) but they got a chance to go on one of them big jet planes. They traveled down to Portland with a destination to be Boston.

The plane wasn’t a big one. I think it held about 35 people but it was full. Otis and Gabby took their seats about midway in the cabin.

Once everyone was seated, the two flight attendants kept looking out the windows nervously waiting for the arrival of the two pilots. Finally, they arrived and made their way from the rear of the plane, where the door was, up to the cockpit. Otis looked up at the two pilots and noticed the first pilot walking down the aisle carrying a white can, wearing big black sunglasses and bumping into everyone.

Next came the second pilot being led by a guide dog. They made their way into the cabin and Otis and Gabby looked at each other and then around the rest of the cabin, thinking like everyone else that this must be some kind of practical joke.

The plane began to taxi until it made its way to the head of the runway. Obviously the passengers were a bit nervous, not really sure whether it actually was a joke.

Otis tried to assure everyone. “This is the first time I’ve ever flown but I can’t believe them two guys are really blind.”

The plane turned and began to slowly accelerate. The passengers began to mumble and whisper back and forth. The plane sped faster and faster. The passengers got louder and louder.

Finally the plane was only about 50 feet from the end of the runway, when every passenger, like a loud chorus screamed to the top of their lungs knowing full well the pilots were blind and that they were going to die.

Poor Gabby. He had already eaten every bit of snack food he had stuffed into his carry on bag.

At the last possible second, the planes front end rose and the aircraft lifted up off the ground and began a slow ascend toward the clouds.

Slowly the passengers began to breathe a bit easier until the captain came on the PA system and announced, “One of these days, the passengers aren’t going to scream and we won’t know when to pull up!”

Mainard True