Humorous Epitaphs

• Mel Blanc, the voice of Bugs Bunny and many other cartoon characters, has the following on his tombstone: “That's All Folks!”

• On another tombstone: “I made some good deals, and I made some bad ones. I really went in the hole on this one.”

• Sir John Strange: “Here lies an honest lawyer, and that is Strange.”

• Lester Moore: “Here lies Lester Moore, four slugs from a .44, no Les no more.”

• Rodney Dangerfield: “There goes the neighborhood.”

• “I came here without being consulted, and I leave here without my consent.”

• “I was hoping for a pyramid.”

• “Uncle Walter loved to spend. He had no money in the end. But with many a whiskey and many a wife, he really did enjoy his life.”

• Spike Milligan: “I told you I was sick.”

• Ezekiel Aikle: “Here lies Ezekiel Aikle, Age 102. The Good Die Young.”

• “Here lies an atheist, all dressed up and no place to go.”

• Frank Sinatra: “The best is yet to come!”

• Alfred Hitchcock: “I'm in on a plot.”

• “We finally found a place to park in Georgetown.”

• Billy Wilder: “I'm a writer, but then nobody's perfect.”

• Merv Griffin: “I will not be right back after this message.”

• Johnny Yeast: “Here lies Johnny Yeast. Pardon me for not rising.”

• “She always said her feet were killing her, but no one believed her.”

• “This ain't bad once you get used to it.”

• “One way. Do not enter.”

• “I knew this would happen.”

• “He never killed a man that didn't need killing.”

• “Died from not forwarding that text message to 10 people.”

• “Here lies the body of Emily White. She signaled left, and then turned right.”

A Special Homecoming Queen

 

The Ohio State University, originally known as the Agricultural and Mechanical College, began “Ohio State Day” in 1912. Later changed to “Homecoming,” the event was created to bring alumni back to campus each year. A key part of the festivities included electing a Homecoming Queen.

To be selected Homecoming Queen, much like being selected to be a cheerleader, is a prestigious award for which most young women can only dream. In 1926, the OSU College of Agriculture nominated one Maudine Ormsby to rule over that year’s Homecoming festivities, but the young lady had two humongous problems to overcome. First of all, although she was seen around campus and ate her meals there, Maudine was not registered as a student at the Ohio State University. Secondly, unlike many of her fellow coeds, she was not exactly beautiful, at least not in the conventional sense of the word. Indeed, she was a large gal; she might have been the heaviest female on campus. On the other hand, Ms. Ormsby was ahead of her times, for she was one of the few practicing vegetarians in the region.

To the surprise of college officials, this rather homely female was elected Homecoming Queen for 1926. Those officials, perhaps with smiles on their faces, had refused to disqualify Ms. Ormsby over the technicality of not being enrolled, and as for her looks, no doubt the Ohio State brain trust realized that real, lasting beauty lies within the soul.

Surprisingly, the alumni and the students were more excited about Maudine’s victory than she was. She went along with the festivities, but never displayed either nervousness or excitement. She neither smiled nor frowned as the crown and cape were placed upon her. For Ms. Ormsby, it was just another day.

Later that evening, after the parade and other festivities had been completed, Maudine skipped the big dance. Perhaps that was a good decision, for she didn’t look like the most agile gal in the world. In fact, she could be described as having four left feet. So instead of attending the dance she contentedly spent her evening at a barn not far from the main campus.

You see, Maudine Ormsby was a cow. No, I’m not an insensitive male chauvinist pig describing an overweight lady. I’m talking about the kind of cow that moos, gives lots of milk, and eats hay. As a joke the College of Agriculture had nominated this creature for Homecoming Queen, and when the student body elected the hay burner, Ohio State officials went along with the funny business.

To this day some folks argue that the joke was an affront to the tradition and seriousness of Homecoming, but I think they protest too much. Although Maudine Ormsby was rather homely (if you are a bull, you may disagree), no real harm was done.

Although Maudine did not meet the physical standards of Ohio State’s Homecoming Queens either before or after 1926, Buckeye fans, with tongues planted firmly in their cheeks, would argue that she’s prettier than any Homecoming Queen ever elected at that “school up north.” 

Roughing It

My wife comes from a family of outdoorsmen (outdoors-people?). She and her family got more than their money's worth with their tent, and later, their simple camper. From their point of view, the good life involves what they call “roughing it.” During their outdoor adventures, they did without a comfortable bed, air conditioning, and even a TV set.

Actually, when I was a kid, I probably spent more time outdoors than my sweetheart did. Until the age of five, several times a day, I had to follow a long, winding path to our outhouse. Talk about roughing it! In the summer that little building was a sauna, and in the winter it became an icebox.

Back in the day, kindergarten was optional. While all my friends were in school painting pictures and taking naps, I made paths and huts throughout the nearby forest. Like Daniel Boone and other heroes, I was a trailblazer.

After our marriage, my wife requested a tent. On our maiden voyage, so to speak, we set up camp at a nearby park. Sadly, my arrangements did not compare favorably with her concept of roughing it.

“Why did you get a site with electricity?” she asked.

“Well, dear,” I replied, “I need electricity for my radio, my electric razor, my portable TV set, and my electric blanket.”

“That's not roughing it! Having a TV set here is not roughing it!”

“It is roughing it, dear. From here I can only pick up the local channel; that's only one more channel than Daniel Boone watched!”

For supper I took her to a nearby restaurant, where we dined on hamburgers, fries, and apple pie. My better half admitted the food was great, but nevertheless, she was disappointed.

“When roughing it, you cook over an open fire. You go out in the woods to gather your own wood, and you rub sticks together to start the fire. Eating at a restaurant is not roughing it!”

“It most certainly is,” I argued. “I picked this particular restaurant because it has no air conditioning. I bet old Daniel Boone ate at inns without air conditioning, too.”

“No doubt,” she conceded, “but he wasn't watching a football game on TV while he ate.”

Although she thought it was cheating, I brought along air mattresses. She argued that if Boone had had an air mattress, he would have blown it up with his mouth.

“He would have blown the air mattress up by his mouth only because he didn't have a better way to do it,” I responded. “I bet he would have paid a pretty penny for an air pump.”

An hour after turning in, it began to rain. After about three hours into this downpour, the tent began leaking. About a half hour later, a newly formed stream began to work its way into our tent. Reluctantly, my wife agreed to wait out the storm in the dryness and relative safety of the car.

By early morning, the rain was still coming down in buckets. Only a fish would have been comfortable in our tent at that point, so with great regret, my wife agreed to go home, leaving the tent for the time being.

Forty-five minutes later, safe and sound in our own bed, I was just about to fall asleep when my boss said, “You must be happy; now you don't have to rough it.”

“Just for you, dear, I am roughing it,” I corrected her.

“How?”

“I'm only using one thin sheet, and I unplugged the electric blanket. Daniel Boone has nothing on me.”

A Few Things

 

A Few Things

• With such high fuel costs, this Christmas I've decided to be bad so that Santa will fill my stocking with coal.

• Finally, Congress has simplified the tax forms. Step one: List year's gross income. Step two: Add twenty percent of gross income. Step three: Send check.

• I'm less worried about artificial intelligence than I am about human intelligence (or lack thereof).

• It's probably a good thing few new westerns are being filmed. No doubt, Hollywood would make them “politically correct,” which, of course, would make a mess of things.

• Sadly, when enough people claim that everything is racist, many folks begin to believe nothing is.

• After a pretty gal danced with me, I said, “Thank you. I wanted to dance with you in the worst way.” She smiled and replied, “Mission accomplished.”

• I'm so old that in school we had Indian raid drills instead of fire drills.

• Speaking of being old, my grandson asked if I had voted for Lincoln. After I answered in the negative, he said, “Oh, then you must be a Democrat.”

• In 1930, during the Great Depression, a reporter pointed out to Babe Ruth that he was making more money than President Hoover. Without missing a beat, Babe replied that he was having a better year than Hoover.

• Why don't sharks eat clowns? Because they taste funny.

• Dad said some people couldn't pour water out of a boot with directions on the heel.

• Why was 6 afraid of 7? Because 7-8-9.

• A slice of apple pie in Jamaica is $2.50, $3.75 in Bermuda, and $3.00 in the Bahamas. Those are the pie-rates of the Caribbean.

• Man on phone: “My wife is pregnant! Her contractions are only two minutes apart!” Doctor: “Is this her first child?” Man: “No, you idiot! This is her husband!”

• I went to an ophthalmologist because I was seeing spots before my eyes. With my new glasses, I see the spots much more clearly.

• I had to quit my high school marching band because of back problems. I played the piano.

• After I gave a speech, a woman approached me, saying, “If you were my husband, I'd poison your tea.” “If you were my wife,” I replied, “I'd drink it.”

• One of my enemies said I was two-faced. That's ridiculous. If I had a second face, do you think I'd be wearing this one?

• A man went to the desk and said, “I want a cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake.” The lady replied, “Quiet, please! This is a library!” The man, speaking in a whisper: “I want a cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake.”

• What kind of felines bowl? Alley cats.

• Give a man a fish, and he will eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.

Newspapers

After supper, Dad would park himself in his recliner, turn on the TV set, light a Camel cigarette, and then proceed to read the evening newspaper from front to back, with the exception of the sports section. (From his point of view, sports were a waste of time). He even read the want ads and all the other advertisements.

Since Dad was the king of the household, he had first dibs on the evening paper, so I had to wait for my chance. Before I could read, I scanned the newspaper, looking at the photographs and drawings. After becoming somewhat literate, I read any history articles before devouring the sports pages. Then I read everything else. (And like Dad, I read the advertisements.)

When I was a kid, our town of 40,000 was served by both a morning and an evening paper. At one time, we had three newspapers! My brother had what must have been the largest paper route in town. The company put three routes together, giving him a lot of customers and, therefore, a lot of headaches. The Sunday paper was heavy enough to give one a hernia. I can remember lugging a bag of those monsters along the route. Within five minutes, the bag's strap was cutting into my shoulder.

Unfortunately, my brother had to collect the money from the customers. Most of the folks paid promptly, but a few made every excuse under the sun. If a customer didn't pay, it came out of the carrier's profits. Eventually, my brother stopped delivery to a guy who had not paid in some time, but the newspaper office overruled him.

In 1959, Dad was as mad as a hornet when his beloved evening newspaper was discontinued. I, on the other hand, was thrilled to think that from then on we'd get the morning edition. That way, I concluded, I could check out the baseball, basketball, or football scores before going to school.

Unfortunately, things didn't work out the way I had hoped. After a few weeks of grumbling, Dad began reading the morning paper while he devoured his typically large breakfast of eggs, bacon or sausage, toast, and oatmeal. While scanning the advertisements, he consumed several large mugs of strong black coffee. By the time he was finished with the newspaper, it was time for me to go to school, so as usual, I had to wait until evening to read the latest news.

Like many Midwestern towns, this city has lost much of its industrial base. As a result, the population has dropped to about 24,000. We have one morning paper that is no longer delivered by carriers. One can either have a paper copy sent through the mail or sign up for the electronic edition.

Eventually, all newspapers will operate exclusively electronically. By doing so, a publishing company won't need printing presses or tons of ink or paper. Moreover, fewer employees will be needed. And, of course, the delivery problem is then solved.

Being an old man set in my ways, I've had difficulties adjusting to the electronic version. These days, if one wants to keep a specific article, he has to copy it from the printer instead of merely cutting it out of the newspaper with a trusty pair of scissors. I must admit to having the habit of reading the paper while sitting on the throne, so to speak. Nowadays, one has to either roll the computer into the bathroom, use one's cellphone, or waste precious ink and paper printing several pages.

Sadly, many newspaper companies are struggling. There are many more ways to get your daily news. As a result, some papers have folded, while others have merged or been bought out by large syndicates.

I fear my hometown might someday lose its local paper. That would be a tragedy. Of course, we could subscribe to big city papers, but their publishers would have little interest in covering the daily happenings in our town. Our little-town newspaper features local authors, local history, and the activities of local citizens. Big-city papers wouldn't waste their time on such things.

To lose our newspaper would be to lose our identity. Sadly, the local paper is no longer published locally, but it is still being published. As we look for ways to revitalize our economy and create more job opportunities, we need to keep our pride and optimism. Losing our newspaper would be a setback in our endeavors to make this town once again a wonderful place to live.

A Few Thoughts

 

• When I was a kid, the girls and boys played Spin the Bottle. If the bottle pointed to a boy, the girl could either kiss him or give him a quarter. By age 14, I owned my own house and car.

• I waited in the restaurant's bathroom for over two hours. A sign there said, “Employees must wash hands.” Unfortunately, no employees showed up.

• In high school, I told the coach I was going out for basketball. “Sorry,” he said. “We already have a basketball.”

• I replied affirmatively when the basketball coach asked if I could shoot. I never said I could make any shots, but I could shoot.

• Wow! I watched a liberal newscaster do a half-hour program, and he only referred to Trump as a Nazi three times!

• One of my friends is getting a divorce. When they were married, he called her “Miss Right.” Only later did he discover her first name was “Always.”

• Did you hear about the diamond mine owner and his wife getting a divorce? She got the mine and he got the shaft.

• The third grade teacher was excited about her UCLA Bruins hosting Southern Cal in football. She said to her class, “Raise your hand if you're a UCLA fan!” All but little Billy raised their hands. “Why are you not a UCLA fan?” the teacher asked. Billy replied: “My dad is a Southern Cal fan, my mom is a Southern Cal fan, and my big brother is a Southern Cal fan, so I'm a Southern Cal fan.” The ticked-off teacher remarked: “By that logic, if your dad was a moron, your mother was a moron, and your big brother was a moron, then what would that make you?” “That would make me a UCLA fan, teacher.”

• Supposedly, Calvin Coolidge was a man of few words. A lady approached him and said, “Mr. Coolidge, I have a bet with my friends that I can get three words out of you.” Coolidge turned to the lady and replied, “You lose.”

• Ronald Reagan said politics is the world's second-oldest profession. He added that it very much resembles the first.

• The judge had to decide who would get custody of little Billy. The judge said, “Billy, I've decided to give custody to your mother.” “Judge,” the little boy replied, “you can't do that.” “Why?” asked the judge. “Because he beats me.” “Well, in that case, I will give custody to your father.” “But he beats me too.” Then who would you like to have custody?” asked the judge. “I want the Cleveland Browns to have custody.” “The Browns? Why?” “Because they don't beat anybody.”

• Why can't your nose be 12 inches long? Because then it would be a foot.

• I'm reading a book about anti-gravity. I just can't put it down.

• Police arrested two kids yesterday. One was drinking battery acid, and the other was eating fireworks. They charged one and let the other one off.

• I was having lunch with a chess champion. The table had a checkered tablecloth. It took him two hours to pass me the salt.

• Quote of the day from Rodney Dangerfield: “I looked up my family tree and found out I was the sap.”

I Distinctly Remember My Family's Restaurant Visits

 

* Dedicated to Dr. Rev. Herbert Hicks.  Our loss is Heaven's gain.

Occasionally Dad would inform my brother and me that on the upcoming Saturday we would be spending the day with him at work. For his part, my brother was delighted. He loved nothing more than to watch our mechanic father change tires, tune engines, and check radiators.

I, on the other hand, was devastated, having no interest in mechanical things. My normal Saturday consisted of playing softball with my neighborhood friends, watching the “Baseball Game of the Week,” and reading my current stack of library books. From my point of view, going to work with Dad amounted to a wasted weekend.

On one particular weekend we traveled to a company station about twenty miles from home. Normally, Dad would finish work about 5 p. m. Then we would pile into the company truck and head home for supper.

Our family never starved; we had clothes on our backs and a roof over our heads, but we lived frugally. Up to this time, I had never eaten at a restaurant. The closest I had come to eating out occurred on those few times I ate lunch at the school cafeteria. Usually I took a sack lunch.

On that Saturday, Dad ran into some problems. It was close to seven-thirty by the time he finished. Evidently, Dad was starving, because he took us to a nearby restaurant. At the age of nine, I was about to experience my first restaurant meal.

Country music was blaring from a jukebox as we entered the building. After we sat at a corner booth, a waitress handed us menus. Today I had breakfast, but to tell the truth, I can't remember what I ate. Yet, way back on that particular Saturday, I distinctly recall what I had ordered.

I had a large cheeseburger that I improved tremendously by drenching it in ketchup. Half the plate was covered with French fries. Along with these two items, I ordered a large Coca-Cola.

After consuming our meals, we watched a guy play at a pinball machine. This was the first time I'd seen such a thing.

Besides not eating at restaurants, we didn't waste money on vacations. Dad's annual two weeks off work usually were spent scraping and painting the house and the garage. So to say the least, this was not exactly a fun time.

During one particular summer, however, some relatives living near Washington, D. C., invited us to visit. When near our destination, Dad decided to stop at a diner so we would not impose upon our relatives. This time I ordered a cheeseburger, fries, AND a chocolate milkshake. I even had the nerve to ask for a second burger, and to my surprise, my wish was granted.

A year or so later, Dad decided to take his family to a restaurant in a town where he sometimes worked. It was fancier than the two previously mentioned restaurants, but the food was no better. Of course, I ordered French fries, but instead of a cheeseburger I got a big square of some type of fish. These were washed down by a glass of iced tea.

Now we fast-forward a few more years. We were visiting relatives in a city about 80 miles from home. Since we arrived in town at lunchtime, Dad took us into what seemed like an ordinary eatery located in the basement of a large hotel.

When Dad looked at the menu, I think he almost fainted, for the prices at that time were out of this world. We didn't get up and leave, but Dad made certain we kids chose only the cheapest items listed. During the meal, he complained about the cost so much that I volunteered to swipe the silverware. He gave it some thought before vetoing the idea.

I did save Dad some money that day. The stall in the men's restroom was locked; a dime was needed to open it. My brother needed to use the bathroom, but he was afraid to ask our upset Dad for money. Being creative and being a little kid, with little difficulty, I crawled under the door of the stall and then opened it. You're welcome, Dad.

These are the only ones I remember. Those occasions were special simply because they seldom occurred.