What happens to the sun and the moon during the moments of “totality”?

14,001 things to gripe about
Or: Every party has a pooper!

Malcolm Tent: “Well, I’ve bit my tongue long and hard enough to make it bleed. I can hold back no longer.

“What, you ask, could get me so riled up? It’s this eclipse business, that’s all. Continue reading “What happens to the sun and the moon during the moments of “totality”?”

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How long does a roll of toilet paper last in your house? How about a couple of 18-packs?

Know thyself!

Kathy S. of St. Paul: “Since we are now in the dog days of summer, it is time to share my study of toilet paper. [Bulletin Board says: We don’t see the connection . . . but now’s as good a time as any!]

Continue reading “How long does a roll of toilet paper last in your house? How about a couple of 18-packs?”

“Of course, being a boy, I had to do the exact opposite thing from what my mom had asked me to do.”

Life as we know it
Or: The Permanent Motherly/Sonly Record

Al B of Hartland remembers: “When I was a small boy, I walked down the street in Hartland in the company of my mother.

“I love Hartland. Population 315. Everything is within easy walking distance. It seemed as big as the world in those days. Continue reading ““Of course, being a boy, I had to do the exact opposite thing from what my mom had asked me to do.””

“A summer day for the ages” that the boys, “forever young,” won’t ever forget . . .

Life as we know it

The Divine Mum of Crocus Hill has sent us her husband’s “Little League Coach’s Diary, Vol. VI, Ch. 1”:

“‘Since baseball time is measured only in outs, all you have to do is succeed utterly; keep hitting, keep the rally alive, and you have defeated time. You remain forever young.’ — Roger Angell, writing in ‘The Summer Game.’

Continue reading ““A summer day for the ages” that the boys, “forever young,” won’t ever forget . . .”

How does a pretend farmer keep himself (and the soil) in shape? He flings the (ahem) feces!

The little treasures
Advertising Division (responsorial)

DebK of Rosemount: “If Saint Isidore had not already been installed as patron of our pretend farm, which (according to Taxman) excels only in the production of a ‘sea of…[feces] and an ocean of red ink,’ we would certainly consider dedicating the place to J.S. Kemp in honor of his leadership in the realm of (ahem) feces management. Truth to tell, Sleepless from St. Paul (in Minneapolis) [BB, 8/7/2017] precipitated an outbreak of Manure-Spreader Envy here in our corner of Rice County with his contribution celebrating the wonders of Kemp’s ‘King of Manure Spreaders.’

Continue reading “How does a pretend farmer keep himself (and the soil) in shape? He flings the (ahem) feces!”