Category Archives: Just for Fun

Happy Baby, Happy Cat

We’re adult human beings. The mind of a baby, and the mind of a cat, are both closed doors to us. We can only imagine what’s going on in there, when cats and babies get together. Gee, I’d love to remember what it felt like to be a baby. But not for longer than three or four minutes.

Note how gentle that one cat is with the baby who insists on pulling his ears.


This Contest Ain’t Workin’

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Recently I announced a fun contest for readers. Cast the Bell Mountain movie, using actors living or dead to play at least six characters, and whoever comes up with the coolest cast wins a copy of The Silver Trumpet.

A lot of people have read that announcement, but so far only three have entered. What kind of contest has only three people in it? Are many of you just waiting around to see what others say? Crikey, I could get three entries into “Name That Tent Caterpillar”contest.

C,mon now, folks–spread your wings and let your imaginations take flight. You can cast anyone you want for any part. If you want to cast Yul Brynner as Ellayne, fine–you won’t win, but you could do that.

This game will only work if a lot of readers play. ‘Nuff said?


Unpredictable Cats

You pretty much know what your pet clam or oyster will do in any situation: nothing. But cats not only do the unexpected. They also like to create the situation.

P.S.–Please, please don’t let your cats mess around with frogs. Most frogs and toads have chemicals in their skin that can make a mammal painfully and expensively sick if it gets into mouth or eyes. And it’s not a frog’s idea of fun.


Doggy Daddies

Fatherhood isn’t really much of a big thing with dogs. But when they live with humans, and beget puppies in the humans’ house, male dogs get kind of roped into fatherhood–even with kittens, if no puppies are currently available. They seem to enjoy it, except for the part about a mob of puppies wanting to suckle whichever adult dog is on the scene. It’s not their cup of tea.


Chickens Are Fun

When I was a boy, there were still a few people in my town who kept chickens. Grandpa had a chicken coop, but no more chickens. He had them years ago, and my mother had vivid memories of–well, let’s not talk about that.

I had no idea that chickens have so much personality. Dig the video of the chicken playing with two baby otters. God is giving us a glimpse of something here. I think He really is.


Obstacles to the Wedding (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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As we learn in Chapter CLXXIII of Violet Crepuscular’s epic romance, Oy, Rodney, the course of true love never did run smooth. “Everybody thinks Shakespeare said that,” writes Ms. Crepuscular, “but I am sure this observation is original with me.”

Lady Margo Cargo, the richest widow in Scurveyshire, has consented to marry Lord Jeremy Coldsore of Coldsore Hall. She has also consented to marry Willis Twombley, the American adventurer who think he’s Sargon of Akkad. They have convinced her that they are one and the same person. And the vicar, having emerged from his conniptions with no memory of how he came to have them, is eager to perform the rites.

But the problem is, where to have the wedding. Lady Margo’s vast country house is being thoroughly re-upholstered, so they can’t go there. Coldsore Hall, because Twombley has concealed there the bodies of so many of Lord Jeremy’s creditors, now has a rather unpleasant smell to it. And The Lying Tart is out because everyone is afraid that the ancient sorceror, Black Rodney, will turn up as an uninvited guest and put a curse on the lot of them.

“I know the ideal place!” says the vicar. “Right here in my back yard, beside the wading pool. With nice weather, it’ll be perfect–an outdoor wedding.”

But Constable Chumley says the wading pool, scene of so many inexplicable tragedies, is off limits. “Thain a bickle maunty, goin’ by shimbly more!” is his ominous warning.

A mysterious stranger arrives with a cart purporting to contain the frozen body of a Pithecanthropus. He looks much like a Pithecanthropus himself. He sets up in the common without a word to anybody.

“Betcha he’s Black Rodney,” Twombley says. “We had a few of those Pitha-whatchamacallums back in Babylonia, and they was all fake. Yer the Justice of the Peace around here, Germy. Why don’t you have him thrown in jail?”

“Because I need this wedding, and I need it now!” growls Jeremy. “More creditors are coming out of the woodwork, and if I don’t marry into Lady Margo’s money, I’ll lose my ancestral home. My grandfather never should have invested all his money in that disastrous polar expedition in which everybody died and the ship wound up in Aruba!”

The chapter concludes with a recipe for boiled grass.


To Start Your Day…

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Is this little kid blessed, or what?

Thanks to Patty’s friend, Carol, who sent us this picture.


‘Someone to Open Each and Every Door…’

Oh, no, no, it ain’t me, babe (as Bob Dylan once said)… Well of course it ain’t you, mack. It’s cats. Cats open doors. Try to keep track of how many dogs are let in or out as a result of cats opening doors. You can see they understand how a latch works. That’s smart–understanding something that was devised for a totally different species.

Gee, I hope they haven’t figured out combination locks…


A Cavalcade of Critters

What are we to make of a hummingbird who wants to build a nest in some guy’s hair? Or a mayfly who finds a human leg the ideal place to molt? And the chuckwalla (that’s the lizard) who discovers it’s not always a good idea to do what a chuckwalla does best. Anyway, there’s bound to be a few in this video that you really like.


We take Downe wite men’s Pitchures!

[Editor’s note: And then there were none… except for Uncle Joe.]

Hear at Collidge we has got a “grate idear” to Hellp Minorites by taken downe “alll” pitchures of wite mens!!! and this it whil make Minorites feeel beter abote Them Selfs!!

We got this hear big Collidge Haul it is “full of” pitchures and thay all pitchures of wite men and That Is Racist!!!! We dont cair eny more that theeze guys thay fownded The collidge and invented stufff and Discuvered stufff and aslo rote stuff and doughnated “lots of” dollers to the collidge It dont mater eny more thay are wite so evry Thing thay done It Dosnt Count!!!!

Fromb now “on” only Pitchures of Minorites and Wimmin wil be aloud in Collidge Haul and some Deen he sayed it wasnt rihght so we slashed his car tyres for Socile Jutstus!!! that whil teech himb to “keeep” his mowth shut!! and we aslo mooved the Statchue of pressadint Obamma into the midle “of” The Haul and evry boddy thay has to bough downe to it wenevver thay see “it” or else thay gett Put “intoo” Sensertivitty Traning untill thare Minds are rihght!!! We was gointo throwe them In the oven but it is “not” big ennuohgh! and it is two bad we culdnt becose “thAt” woud reely Hellp Minorites a lott!!

Aslo it makes yiu feeel reel Good abote yore Self wen yiu hellps Minorites and Wimmin!!!


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