The dairyman, one Lord Butterbottom, was informed that  King Leopold of Bulgaria was leading an army across his farm. 

Now, Lord Butterbottom was fully aware that King Leopold was not a party to the Battle of Hastings. Apparently a victim of centuries of European royal family inbreeding, King Leopold had a lower IQ than a day old croquette, and had taken a wrong turn when he came to the English Channel on his way to attack France, which is never a bad idea.  

Fully cognizant of the historical problems this situation could generate for future intellectual lightweights like Doris Kearns Goodwin, Lord Butterbottom leaped aboard a dairy cow name Pooh, and rode to warn the Archbishop of Canterbury that his cheese would be late.

While crossing the Upside Downs, he came under fire from the Bulgarian army, who didn't know cannons hadn't been invented yet, didn't know they were in England and thought Lord Butterbottom was a Frenchmen with a Guernsey fetish.  When a Bulgarian cannon ball blew away bossies bell,  Lord Butterbottom turned her in the direction of the invading forces and urged her to a gallop.

The enemy troops were very thirsty because it was a hot day, and tried to milk her as she ran through their lines.  Her udder swaying from side to side inflicted so many casualties that the army was driven all the way back to the village of Stratford On Avon, and was overcome by the smell of cheap cosmetics, which won the day for the Empire.  

Not for the last time, Britain was saved by Pooh. -- PH

 Obituary Notice

Col. P. U. "Stinker" Gross, of Rt. 1 Peg's Bottom, the last surviving soldier from the Charge up San Juan Hill, blew his own head off while cleaning his black powder rifle on Thursday.  When his cleaning rod got stuck in the barrel, he lit a match with the breech open with the intention of forcing the rod free.  Services were held at the VFW, with interment thereafter at the local cemetary in the Grotto of Our Really Stupid Soldier.  Mr. Gross is survived by a 1938 Packard Sedan. 

Cranston Delaplank has long had an interest in engines. While in high school, he installed a British Merlin Rolls Royce airplane engine on a motorcycle, and when he fired it up and sat down, burned the crotch out of his Big Boy coveralls and ran down three Fokkers before he could pull the coil lead wire.

In recent years, he has concentrated on developing an engine that would solve the nation's energy dependence on Arab oil wells.  

Last fall, he began the construction of his latest prototype..  Working on it through the winter, he recently finished it and on Monday last installed it in a '49 Buick ice cream truck.

The principle, like Cranston, is very simple.  A Radio Shack scanner radio solar array provides power to an electric motor that spins a massive 32 ton wheel.  Once the wheel is turning, momentum keeps it turning, and the vehicle will, according to the law of the conservation of angular retribution, continue to go forward as long as you don't run into anything big.  .

Unfortunately, Cranston left one small item out of his calculations.  The sun shines in Oregon only on August 14th, 15th and 16th each year.  And, since it takes three weeks of 24 hour a day sun for a two foot square solar panel to spin a 32 ton wheel, he will not be able to drive it anywhere until the summer of 2016.  

So, it's back to the drawing board for Cranston, who is undeterred by the 32 ton glitch in his plans.  If any reader needs a '49 Buick ice cream truck, and has a forklift. that can handle a large circular object, the vehicle is parked behind the city hall.

Wanted: 51 Hudson Terraplane rubber clutch pedal cover felt inside liner holding screw.  Contact Clyde Foofaw 

2002
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2001
March  | April  | May  | June  | July
 August  |  November  |  December

This page is dedicated to Dave Bascom.