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Doug Blough

A great philosopher once said, “By day the roofer doth toil and tarry; to spreadeth no anguish, he must never marry.” Actually I just made that up, believe it or not. It causes one to ponder if I might have better served humanity as philosopher/poet than roofer?

In spite of my fevered protests a few years ago, the new Sunset School was built a couple hundred yards from my place. For nine months each year, I’m now tortured by yellow buses thicker than the locusts of King Pharaoh’s eighth plague.

I couldn’t disagree with Laura Nevins more. Normally music-savvy, what, pray tell, does she find “crappy” about these pure-gold lyrics? “Chewy, Chewy, Chewy, Chewy…always got a mouthful of such sweet things to say-ay; Chewy Chewy Chewy Chewy … Chewy’s full of sugar and I love her that way. Ahhh … ooh I love to kiss her, love to hold her, love to miss her, love to scold her, love to love her like I do; Ooie little Chewy, don’t know what you’re doing to me, but you’re doing to me what I want you to…”

Maybe it’s a sad statement about my formative years, but some of my most valuable life lessons were learned in Pennsylvania bars in my early 20s.

I was reminded of an important one recently when Pennsylvania Facebook friend Nan Temyer mentioned a blast-from-the-past name, Jack Boring. I related a Jack story she had never heard, and I’d be remiss not to share with you this vital lesson learned.

Today, I’m not gonna say a lot about much, but I will say a little about a lot. So let me now say this about that:

• You seldom hear of people hitting their funny, or “crazy” bone anymore. When I was growing up, it was a common sight to see someone jumping around, holding their elbow, howling, “Ahh! My funny bone!” I haven’t hit my crazy bone in decades. I wonder if it got on Prozac and now it’s just another well-adjusted, ordinary bone.

In the beginning, God created the beasts of the field, fish and fowl of every ilk. And he saw that it was good. Among the beasts was the slovenly cow, and on her undercarriage, God inserted udders — obviously not for aesthetic purposes, since the dangling udder is an ugly mudder.

A pox on your house, Zuckerberg, for making everything so dang hard. Had I invented Facebook, which I probably would have eventually, it would be much simpler to navigate and less fraught with peril.  

A gentleman’s handshake doesn’t mean much these days, but when Trinity dropped his treat and shook my hand that first day at the shelter, it was binding. He truly had me at “Hello.”

I’m not only a column writer, but a column reader. In the Jan. 29 edition, I read Geoffrey’s column at the bottom of the page, and Amend’s column directly above his. I would encourage Dante by saying, “Take heart, young writer; we all started at the bottom. You’ll move up eventually.”

Well, the blitz is gonna hit the fan come Sunday. And this fan will toss and turn Saturday night and wake up giddy on Sunday morning. Yes, Feb. 3 is the real Christmas Day for shut-in, adult gamblers. Only three betting days left till Football Fan Christmas.

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