A Bedtime Story

If you went back 105 years to a place in Montreal, Canada you’d find the Silverman family celebrating the birth of a baby boy who would some 55 or so years later become a grandfather.

If he were here today he would confirm some of the the family but not all shortened their last name by three letters. Last we heard they were still in Canada but those that removed those last three letters came to the US or so I have heard.

Like so many other family tales it is possible my understanding is incorrect and doesn’t reflect what really happened or that it is virtually perfect, but will undoubtedly be contested by others whose memories are different.

We’ll save the conversation about whether there is meaning and significance in the differences and distinctions in memory for another day.

Besides, grandpa was one of the great storytellers and on his 105th birthday our task isn’t to look for truth but to take a moment to enjoy a tale.

Don’t Punch A Bison Unless You Want To Fight

You might say it is ridiculous to punch a bison because you don’t think it would be much of a fight and I’d say you are wrong because the bison isn’t who you get to fight.

No sir or no ma’am, you get to fight the 23 people who pulled over the side of the roads in Yellowstone to stare at said bison.

They can’t believe you punched the bison nor do they accept that you did so because it was a question of honor.

If they knew the bison insulted your mother and that it is considered one of the worst insults a bison can lob at you there is no question that you would throw a punch.

What I have never figured out is why people would attack a man who punched a bison. Don’t they recognize someone who punches creature that weighs two tons isn’t likely to care about taking on ten or 12 of them at a time.

The answer is no they don’t.

They are too busy being outraged by that and 15 other things that lack importance but these are the same people who cry out in pain for the billions of bacteria that are killed every time we shower.

Some of them have recently started a movement to ban antibacterial soap because they demand equal rights for bacteria.


Anyhoo, the real secret to my success at fighting 10 or 12 people at a time is that nine of them were vegans.

It is a little known secret, but if you throw eggs at vegans they will cry in horror and do their best to catch said eggs so they may save the unhatched.

So the trick is to throw a bunch of eggs straight up and then while the vegans are circling under the eggs you kick them in the balls and or punch them in the throat.

You might call that dirty pool but I call it working smarter, not harder.

The Marching Band Refused To Yield

If you recall what was revealed the day the music died you’ll understand I desperately have tried to drive my Chevy to the levee but have found it locked upon every try.

It has been the source of great frustration and more than once I have used the Magic word Submit but up to now it has been to no avail.

“Uncross your damn legs levee” hasn’t worked either and neither has alcohol, begging or Scooby snacks.

So we look at the clock and see it is time to take our pills, put on our Superhero masks and do our best to quiet the noise inside our heads about what could be a very challenging week.

Because thus far we have experienced the task of trying to take the field when the band has refused to exit. You can beat the tuba players over the head with a trombone and repeatedly slam the fingers of the piano players in the piano and it just doesn’t matter.

But sometimes the biggest trick isn’t related to how hard you hit but how often because you never know which blow is the one that causes the crack to widen and to break.

Keep your fingers crossed my friends that the hand I am playing isn’t one that I should fold upon. It is time to see if I can’t shoot the moon or find a way to capture that full house.

Hearts and poker might just be enough to get it done, or maybe not.

Time will tell.

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