Bless Those Dogs 

     I do some part-time work in an environment where service dogs are occasionally brought in to give the patients something to think about other than their aches and pains. One day I was sitting in a chair that was half-blocking the doorway to the room of a male patient. The man’s wife was in the room with him. During the time I had been there he had become less and less enchanted with having to be in the hospital, with the food, and to a lesser degree the staff. He had not reached a code-gray condition but was quite disturbed about his situation. 
     The language he was using to express his discontent was unusually crude compared to what most patients use. 
     That’s when I noticed, coming around the corner on the end of the hall, a man and a service dog. A big service dog. The man stopped at the nursing station where the dog got plenty of attention. It was obvious that the staff was acquainted with him and that they enjoyed his visits. The dog’s name turned out to be Adam. Then the man and Adam came down the hall and I was introduced. 
     I found out that Adam was a mastiff of some sort and that he was small for his breed as he only weighted 125 pounds and stood only about 28 inches at his shoulders. But the man explained that Adam was still young and might yet get bigger. 
     While the introductions were going on it was obvious that Adam wanted to go into the room. His handler asked the patient and his wife if they would mind Adam’s coming in and they both said that it would be fine. 
     Adam walked over to the patient and placed his big head on the bed next to the patient’s hip, where the patient could easily reach him and stroke his head. 
     The change in the patient was dramatic. He stroked and talked to the dog in a quiet voice. His whole demeanor changed. His red face lost its angry/excited color and he looked more relaxed than he’d been since I came on duty. 
     The Handler then asked the patient if he would mind having Adam on the bed. The patient was a little surprised but said he would like that. 
     The Handler gave Adam a command. Now between the patient and the edge of the bed there was maybe eight inches. I watched as this big dog got up on the hospital bed, never stepping on the patient, and then stretch out alongside the patient and sort of snuggled up against him. Adam’s head was mid chest. Adam had his head on his front paws and looked like he was going to fall asleep. In all his movements there was never anything quick, jerky, or frantic. It was all so relaxed. 
     The patient was soon just as relaxed as Adam as he continued to stroke and talk to him. 
     After about five minutes the Handler gave Adam a command and he got off the bed as gracefully as he had gotten on. 
     A nurse came and took the patients vitals soon after Adam and his Handler left. She told me the patients blood pressure was significantly lower than it had been before Adam’s visit. 
     It was an amazing performance and one I appreciated being able to witness.

It Seems Like There Should Be A Downside

    Recently, in a Texas neighborhood, there have been several incidents where squirrels have gotten quite militant. People have been bitten and children not allowed to go out to play, because of the threatening behavior of these squirrels. 
     My guess is that this is the beginning of the long-predicted squirrel uprising. It will be their bid to take over our country.
    I’ve given this scenario a good deal of thought and have listed all the differences, good and bad, if the squirrels were in control of our state and federal governments.

    1. Squirrels would be a lot cheaper to support in public office. 
    2. Not being able to understand squirrel a great restful quiet would descend on the land. 
    3. Their campaigning for office would be of little interest as we couldn’t understand their rhetoric and besides they all look alike. 
    4. Ah, there must be other differences. 
    5. 
    6. 
    7. 
    8. 
    9. 
   10. No, I guess not.

They Have Feelings Too

     In Washington State a driver received a hefty fine for driving in the HOV lane while using a big stuffed dinosaur for the passenger. One thing to the driver credit, he did have the dinosaur’s seat belt fastened.
     But I don’t see anywhere in the report where anyone was concerned about the feeling of the dinosaur. 
     What does it say when it gets back to the kid’s room and the rest of the stuffed toys. But more important what do the other toys say. Probably something like this. 
     The pit bull will start off with, “Hah, yous thought you was so smart. You thought you was some kinda big shot.” 
     The clipped puddle named Mitzi says, in a soft voice, “Guido, be nice, he was just doing what Kevin’s Dad asked him to do.”
     Snapper the alligator speaks up, “That’s our problem, we all just do what anyone wants us to do. Even you, Guido. When Kevin was dragging you around by the tail, you didn’t look so tough.” 
     Guido snarls, “Okay, but yous gotta unnerstand that there’s a big difference between lettin a little kid drag me around and participatin in some cockamamie criminal endeavor.” 
     A GI Joe asks, speaking to Guido, “Where’d you learn a big word like cockamamie?” 
     Guido laughed and said, and even if it did sound sort of sinister, the others knew that he was the softest wise-guy around, “Hey, I pay attention when Kevin watches his shows on TV.” 
     An obviously old donkey, who had on one and one-half ears, a faded coat, a tail that looked like it had been on fire at one time, or maybe twice, and with one eye missing, added to the conversation, “You kids should have been around before TV. That’s when we really had to be on our game. And I mean 24/7. Now you all have it easy.” 
     Mitzi said, “Yes, Horace, we’ve heard all about the good old days before. I for one am glad to be of a younger generation.” “Squawk, generation, generation, squawk,” offered Rose, the parrot. 
     “Squawk, me not stuffed, squawk,” she added. 
     “Yeah, Yeah,” said Snapper, “like we haven’t heard before how special you are.”
     Through all this Dino, the dinosaur had been quiet. Then said with a sigh, “I told him it wouldn’t work, but he told me to shut up, so I did. He was rather rude.” 
     “Did the police talk to you at all?” asked Horace. 
     “Oh, yes,” answered Dino. “One of the officers patted me on my nose and told me this was going to go on my permanent record. For some reason he thought that was very clever. 
     Like I said, no one realizes the emotional trauma a stuffed toy will go through if taken on an adventure like this.

Waste Not Want Not 

     
     Well, North Korea has hit a new low. Their esteemed leader Kim Jong-Un has decreed that each family must produce and donate eight tons of feces to be used by the farmers to increase production. 
     The rulers of the country are, of course, exempt from this requirement, probably having to do with their feces not being of a quality that would do the fields any good. 
     The general population is having a hard time meeting their quotes. The fact that many of them are on a near starvation diet may be playing a counter-productive role in this scheme. People, in order to meet the quotas, are raiding public toilets to make up any deficiencies in quantities. This raiding of public toilets has led to violence as there is limited supply. 
     People are also mixing their feces with dirt and other substances, like coal, in order to bulk up their contributions. 
     The few families who have more than they need are selling their surplus. The process seems to be that each family spreads their feces on the ground round their houses or wherever their living so that the product can dry. You can imagine the insects this raw sewage attracts. 
     A whole industry has sprung up. Feces merchants are selling product to those families who are coming up short with their output. If South Korea has half a brain they will be shipping poop across the DMZ by the tanker truck load. 
     The number of health hazards this program guarantees boggles the mind. Of course, Kim Jong-Un is removed far enough away from these hazards that they are not a worry to him. 
     This seems like a golden opportunity for some of our large port cities where solid waste disposal is a huge and costly undertaking. Why not just pump a tanker full of solid waste and ship it to North Korea. They could save money by not having to process this sewage and at the same time develop a new revenue stream or possibly lower the sewage bills of their citizens.
     Another plus is that this could be put forward as a humanitarian donation. Maybe even tax deductible. Then again maybe not, especially if receipts were required. 
     The business opportunities should be numerous especially if these port cities can find other countries that are equally as dum… I mean open to using human feces to help grow their crops. And just think of the cute market slogans. The possibilities would be nearly endless, none of which I’ll suggest here, being a rather sensitive and reticent person.

Which is Worse? 

    A new study, or I should say a new article on an old study, shows that touching anything in an airport terminal is risky at best and is usually most foolhardy. This article points out that according to a 2015 study, airport terminals are one big Petri dish of biological entities, just waiting to attack a human body if they can find one which is relatively easy. 
    And the very worst thing you can touch, or put anything you possess in contact with, are the trays that they insist you put your stuff in to go through the security screening machine. Other areas are anything close to a cash register, stairway railings, or children play areas, just to name a few. 
    Many of these areas a person can avoid, but the trays are a must if you want to get through security. Now I’m guessing that if, before you used one of these transport trays, you pulled out your aerosol can of Lysol, which they would take away from you eventually, and started to spray the tray, the TSA people would have you spread eagle on the ground in a heartbeat, and would be calling in a hazmat team to save the rest of the people in the terminal. 
    Now that all pales into insignificance as a hazard when you actually get on the plane. That is where you come face to face with the most deadly thing you will encounter on this trip and that is the germ-laden drop down tray that is tucked into the seat back in front of you, and that you are expected to use if you want to do anything like use your laptop, rest the book you’re reading, or the very worst, eat. Now the airlines have tried to solve the problem of eating anything on their germ- laden trays by just not serving anything edible or anything at all for you to put on the tray. Thank you, airlines. 
    The article made it sound as if you were extremely fortunate to come away from air travel, or just being in an air terminal, without having contracted some terrible disease. 
    Now the above is mildly interesting and my point is this. Huh, you didn’t think I had one did you. A person can’t tap into any kind of news media without finding something just as scary- if not worse. Every editor who is looking for some filler taps some writer on the shoulder and asks for a few inches of something that will attract the attention of the readers. What better than something about some assault on our health, how we’re in jeopardy of dying a too-soon death for one reason or another. 

    Now it’s nice to know what dangers are out there but I submit that to live in constant fear of our environment is worse for our health and peace of mind than the proposed health hazards the media keeps holding up for our consideration. 

Those Tricky Headlines 

     The headline said, “New Zealand Fisherman Catches North American Fresh Water Turtle.” My first reaction was, big deal, anybody can do that. All you need is a ticket from New Zealand to wherever in North America that has a good supply of fresh-water turtles, then go there and catch some unsuspecting turtle. 
     After reading the headline I was about to move on, but thought, maybe the headline writer just missed the mark by a little. Sure enough. This turtle was caught in New Zealand, hence its being newsworthy. 
     
     That’s like reading a headline that says, “Redmond, OR Man Shoots Tiger in Backyard.” Well to start with, I’m not up on tiger anatomy, but I’ve never heard of a tiger having a backyard. Or, it could mean the backyard of the man’s house in Redmond, OR, which would be an odd place to find a tiger. But then reading the story and finding out that the Redmond, OR, man was on a safari in India where early one morning he looked out the lodge window and saw a tiger dragging a local man, who was the grounds keeper for the lodge, across the backyard toward the nearby jungle. The Redmond, OR, man shot the tiger with his BB pistol, which he carried for some reason not specified. The BB hit the tiger in the ear, which was completely fortuitous and had nothing to do with the man from Redmond’s skill. The shot to the ear didn’t hurt the tiger in the least, but the surprise distracted him enough for the grounds keeper to punch it on the nose and then escape. The two things so discombobulated the poor tiger that it didn’t pursue the freed grounds keep but loped off into the jungle. 

     Headline: World’s Largest Single Fireworks In Steamboat Springs.” The next line explained that this firecracker weighed 2,797 pounds, and that it set a Guinness world record. I full expected to read next that the folks of Steamboat Springs were going to try an even bigger firecracker as soon as they rebuild the part of the city where firecracker was set off. However, I was happy to find out that they shot this thing off on a mountain outside of town.

They’re Not Dead, Just Cold

    It turns out that there is one thing in Florida that doesn’t appreciate cold weather any more than the orange trees or the snow birds. And some of those things are the green iguanas. That’s right--iguanas. These green lizards have moved up from further south to live in Florida, evidently much like northerners have moved south to take advantage of the warm weather and what not.
     However, the green reptiles made a small miscalculation. It does occasionally get cold enough in Florida, down in the 40s and 30s where the green iguanas sort of freeze, but they’re not dead. It’s just that they can’t hold on to a tree limb, so these cold iguanas fall to the ground. 
     Hence the Florida weather report, “Beware of falling iguanas.” 
     When these iguanas warm up, they are ready to do what iguanas do. 
     They are considered an invasive species so why are they in Florida? I can just hear a pair of newly mated Central American iguanas talking to his parents. 
     Young male iguana, henceforth referred to is YMI, “But why Florida, for Pete’s sake?” Evidently this YMI knows somebody named Pete. Who would have guessed? 
     Pop Iguana, henceforth known as PI, “Because it’s warm all year and you know how I like to be warm.” 
     YMI, “But it’s warm here all year.” 
     Mama Iguana, henceforth known as MI, “But everything in Florida is near water, and you know how much your father loves the water.” 
     YMI, “Since when? We live up in the trees. In the water are things that will eat us.” 
     PI, “But I would like to live on a boat.” 
     YMI, now almost yelling in his frustration. “But there is nothing for you to eat on a boat.” 
     The YMI turns to his mate, a young female iguana, henceforth known as YFI, and in his frustration asked, “Don’t you think this is crazy?” 
     The YFI has been thinking about life without a mother-in-law looking over her shoulder and says, “Well, Creepy, that’s her name for her mate, “If they really have their hearts set on Florida…” then shrugs, which is a little awkward for an iguana, but the others got the message. 
     The YMI sighs knowing that at 3 to 1 he’s lost this argument. Then he adds, “If it’s a privacy thing we could move, the tree next door would be very nice, once we got rid of the howler monkeys, and the view is actually better.” 
     Then he saw the look in his parent's eyes and gave up. He said, “Just write so we know you’re okay. Okay?” 
     His parents broke into smiles, which is hard to recognize as it’s the same look as when an iguana is trying to scare a cricket to death so it will be easier to catch. 
     So that’s how Pop and Momma iguana found themselves lying on their backs, unable to move, in the soft grass of a Florida back yard. This yard is beside a nice canal, on which floats a nice boat. Iguana paradise, thought PI, except for this infernal cold. 
     MI and PI had several humans gathered around them, surprised at the spectacle.
     Human One, “I heard the warning about the falling iguanas but I thought it was a joke.” 
     Human Two, “Yeah, and they are an invasive species, we should kill them,” while trying to control his lunging pit bull who thought someone had delivered these two iguanas for his dining pleasure. 
     Human Three, with much indignation, “You’ll do no such thing. They are God’s creatures and we’re not going to kill them. They just need to warm up and then they’ll be as good as new.” And having said that she reached down and stroked the smaller iguana on the tommy. 
     YFI thought, holy Joseph and Abraham, she had lived in the village synagogue when younger, now they’re touching me. Don’t they have any manners at all. There are boundaries after all. 
     Human Two, “Well, don’t look at me, if you want them warm, you warm them.” 
     Human Three, “Okay, I will." Then to her husband, “Ralph, bring the iguanas,” as she headed for their car. 
     Ralph looked perplexed. “How do you pick up one of these God’s creatures. It’s not like he put handles on them.” 
     Human Four finally had something to offer. “I’d try the tail. It’s about as far away from their mouth as you can get.” So Ralph gingerly got an iguana tail in each hand slowly lifted them off the lawn and followed his wife. 
     The Pitbull, seeing his iguanas leaving, went into a frenzy of barking and leaping which pulled Human Two onto his face in grass, but to his credit he kept a firm grip on the leash. 
     PI thought, Lord, help me over the fence, an expression he’d heard on the boat radio. These cretins have got me by the tail; if I could move, I’d show them how not to mess with an iguana. I wonder whose cockamamie idea it was to move to this cold country. 
     Human Three told Ralph to put the iguana on the back seat of the car. The family cat, Mitzi, who had been resting on the ledge inside the back window, jumped to her feet, flattened her ears, and arched her back while letting out a long hiss. 
     Human Three said soothingly, “Now, Mitzi, they are just iguanas that need our help. You’ll get along with them fine.” 
     Mitzi thought, if it wasn’t for the gourmet cat food, I’d find someone smarter to live with. 
     The interior of the car was about forty degrees warmer than the outdoors and right at the lower end of the iguana’s comfort zone.
     In a few minutes PI realized he could move. The first thing he did was roll over onto his feet which brought another hiss from the midget jaguar that was crouched above him. He nudged MI, but although she was moving a little, she was not yet ready to roll over. 
     PI’s first impulse was to flee, which he did. He tried the opening to the outdoors but smashed into something hard, then took a hard left, went over the shoulder of Human Three, down onto her lap and then leaped unto the dash. 
     Human three was screaming and flailing her arms while yelling for Ralph to do something about the lizard. 
     Mitzi, seeing this green thing fleeing thought, Ah hah, and went in pursuit, which ended with her crouched on the console between Human three and her husband, Ralph.
     Ralph was so discombobulated by the flurry of activity that he ran over a roadside mail box before getting his car back under control. 
     Mitzi took a hard look at the green lizard perched on the dash, with it’s mouth open and it’s tail whipping back and forth, and thought, look at those teeth, maybe I could live in peace with this thing. 
     By this time MI was fully warmed up and ready to rumble. She saw this midget jaguar threatening PI and promptly reached up and bit the end off the jaguar’s tail. 
     Mitzi let out a high-pitched wail, then a snarl as she whirled around to face this new threat. This brought her face to face with the open mouth of MI, which still had the part of bitten off tail hanging out of one side. Mitzi’s tail was leaking blood and with it whipping back and forth was scattering blood hither and yon. 
     Mitzi didn’t feel comfortable sitting there facing MI and knowing another green lizard was at her back, so she leapt unto Ralph’s right shoulder, gave his right ear a whack, just because she thought she shouldn’t be the only one having a bad day, then clambered over to his left shoulder and after another look at the lizards, decided the top of his head would be better. So using all her god-given equipment, she clawed her way there. 
     This created additional stress on Ralph, which caused him to narrowly miss an oncoming Florida State Patrol car. In a flash the patrolman made a U-turn and fell in behind the city policeman who had witnessed the small incident with the mailbox. 
     Ralph finally noticed the two police cars behind him. During all this Human Three had kept up a steady stream of expletives aimed at all the living things in the car except herself, of course. This was done in a high pitched screaming voice. Ralph, if he’d had time to consider it would not have found it soothing. 
     Ralph pulled over to the side of the road. The state patrolman and the city policeman approached the car, one on each side. The first thing they noticed was what looked like blood all over the interior. It was fresh enough to still be running down the windows. The second thing they noticed was that the driver was wearing a live cat on his head. And then there was the iguana on the dash. 
     Both officers had their sidearms out and both tapped the barrels of those guns on the driver and passenger windows, motioning for them to please lower them. 
     Just as those windows reached the completely open position both PI and MI smelled the outdoors and perceiving a way of escape went for it. PI, with one leap, bounced off the chest of Ralph and sailed out the window only to collide with the state police officer. PT didn’t cling to that officer’s face and chest for long, but dropped to the ground and left for a roadside tree. The officer was so surprised that he accidently fired his gun, neatly shooting off another piece of Mitzi’s tail. 
     MI jumped to Human Three’s shoulder, then out that open window narrowly missing the city policeman. MI joined PI in his tree. It was still cold so it was only a matter of time before they were on the ground again. Mitzi followed MI out of the car and ducked into the first auto with an open door. It happened to belong to the Florida State Police. 
     All this time Human Three was yelling “Kill them, kill them.” She was taken to the local ER and admitted on a forty-eight hour psychiatric hold. After considerable conversation with the authorities, Ralph was released after glumly accepting several citations, reckless endangerment and cruelty to animals being two, after which he was allowed to go home. It was only late the next day that he remembered that Human Three was in the local ER. He had wondered why it was so quiet. 
     So much for how a couple iguanas got to Florida. 
     What was also reported, a man living in Florida, who had immigrated, well, sort of, from Central America thought this iguana falling thing a godsend. He went around collecting a number of the lizards, put them in his car and was on the way home to prepare them for some of his most favorite culinary dishes. The iguanas warmed up, woke up, and took out their vengeance on the driver. He ran off the road, wrecked his car, and ended up in the hospital. The iguanas went free.
     So, if you are in Florida and it is less than about fifty degrees, watch out for falling iguanas. 
     You’re welcome.

One Reason to Stay in School

     I heard that as far as the educational level of nations around the world the U.S. is rated number 17. That’s sort of sad, but before I get too excited, I would want to know who arrived at that fact, and how they arrived at that fact, who paid for the study, and what they mean by educational level. Not that I’m suspicious of gratuitous information, but, well, I’m suspicious of gratuitous information. 
     Part of what I heard was that Canada was higher on the list than the U.S. Okay, I can believe that as Canadians are big on education. Then I read about a Canadian young man who had ordered a fake ID on the internet. When it didn’t come when he thought it should, he went to the police to file a complaint. Maybe this fellow wasn’t part of the data base used by the study. If he was, and we still came in 2nd, I despair. 
     Which reminds me that I’m half Canadian, from my mother’s side which brings up another painful observation. My grandfather and grandmother Spady grew up and lived in Russia for some time before immigrating. I’ve always wished that while living with us before he died, Grandpa would have passed on to me some of what he experienced of that culture, taught me some words in Russian, and/or told me about the culture and what it was like living in Russia at that time. 
     Now I’ve just realized that I’ve not passed on to my girls anything of my Canadian heritage. Of course, they’ve never shown any interest, but if given some time I’m sure I could come up with several interesting stories about our connection to Canada. The first one that comes to mind is our relationship to Sergeant Preston and his great dog King, who was a Northwest Mounted Policeman of some renown. The Sergeant was the policeman, and no we aren’t related to the great dog King. 
     But I digress. Let me draw a conclusion as you’ll not get it from reading the above. Stay in school, so that once again, we, the U.S., can hold it’s head up in pride. At least beat those Canadians.

It’s Just Plain Amazing

     The story claimed, “Wedding Ring Lost in Livingroom Surfaces Three Hours Later in Master Bedroom.” 
     That one might not make the news, but this one might, “Wedding Ring Lost While Climbing El Capitan in Yosemite National Park. Ring Surfaces Thirty Years Later Inside Wild Pig in New Guinea.” 
     Now that one takes some explanation. First of all, we will assume that the following is accurate, however much this stretches the imagination. 
     It all started when the ring slipped off the finger of a rock climber and landed on the toe of his left shoe. The climber froze in place, not wanting to dislodge the golden symbol of his wife’s affection. And it had written right on the ring, “Love You Always.”      He was in a quandary. He was also in a position where he couldn’t reach down and retrieve the ring. He finally decided that he would try to flick the ring up with his foot to where he could catch it. To do this he had to take the weight off that foot so he could do the flicking. 
     He slowly shifted all his weight to his right foot. He jerked his left foot up. The ring rose toward his one free hand, but the movement was too much pressure on the right foot which slipped from its precarious position. 
     As the climber fell fifty feet to the end of his rope he somehow forgot about retrieving the ring, which fell one thousand feet, bounced off a rock which launched it out away from the face of the cliff. It was within a couple heat beats of landing in the forest when a passing crow, seeing this shinny object, snatched it out of the air, and took it to its nest. 
     Time passed. Once in the crows nest the ring served no further purpose than giving the crow and its decedents something of a conversation piece when showing it to their neighbors. At least until the big thunderstorm. Lightening hit the tree scattering the crows nest as well as several crows hither and yon. The ring fell into the river where it was swallowed by a large rainbow trout. 
     The ring was too large to pass through the trout’s system, so remained there for quite some time. 
     A couple years later a fisherman snagged and landed the trout. By this time this trout was trophy size and the fisherman was imagining what this trout was going to look like mounted above the fireplace in his den. At the movement the fact that the river is designated catch and release was way down the list of his concerns. 
     But first he needed to get a picture of the trophy trout, He pulled out his cell phone and was lining up the shot to take a selfi when he noticed a photo bomber in the background, well not really the background, but right behind him, namely a huge black bear, standing up on its hind legs and looking over his shoulder, at the big fish.
     In an instant the fisherman’s mindset went from his trophy fish to the hot breath of the bear on his right shoulder, and the best way to make the bear the gift of his fish. He flipped the fish over his shoulder. As the bear’s attention followed the flying fish, the fisherman departed the vicinity, forgetting the very expensive rod and reel he was leaving behind. 
     The bear ate the fish and the ring and went on his way. Eventually he did what all bears do and pooped in the woods. Shortly a hiker came along and stepped in the pile of bear feces. Not on purpose. It was just that he was a bird watcher. 
     With some disgust the hiker scraped of what he could with a stick, then went on his way. What didn’t come off was some of the offending substance caught in his instep. Imbedded in that was the ring. When the hiker got to the trailhead, he took off his boots and threw them into the trunk of his car, before putting on some shoes more comfortable for the drive back to his home in Yachats, Oregon. 
     As the hiker’s wife was unloading the car’s trunk, she found the boots and the dried ‘stuff’ stuck to the bottom. She knocked it off in the garbage which was eventually hauled to the local landfill where it was spotted by a seagull and eaten. 
     Now seagulls will eat anything—well—except gummy worms. How I know is somewhat interesting but not important to this narrative. 
     Again, the ring found itself in a system that was not meant to handle such items. Several days the seagull was feeling poorly and settled down on the ocean’s surface, just outside the surf. It was concentrating so much on how bad it felt that he didn’t notice the shadow of the migrating fur seal ascending from the depths. 
     Off the coast of La Paz our seal attracted the attention of a pod of killer whales which tore the seal into small pieces which they proceeded to consume. Their activity attracted several marlins which swooped in and managed to steal a few pieces away from the whales. One particular marlin got the piece that contained the gold ring. 
     A wealthy Japanese businessman who along with several of his companions was big game fishing out of La Paz. The marlin was nothing special size wise, but it looked huge to the diminutive Japanese executive, so he had the fish frozen and hauled back to Osaka where he had it mounted. While doing this the taxidermist found a gold ring with the inscription, “Love You Forever.” 
     The Japanese man thought this ring such a harbinger of good fortune that it was kept in a small display case next to the mounted marlin. It has been a treasured keep sake in his family ever since. 
     As for the gold ring found in the wild pig on New Guinea, with the inscription, “Love You Forever,” and how they connected that to the rock climber, I have no idea. How would I? I mean, give me a break!

It Was About Time 

    Somebody has finally found a use for asparagus. A self-proclaimed fortune teller in England uses asparagus spears to foretell the future. 
    Her method seems to be to toss the spears into the air then according to the way they land is what gives her the answer to questions about what’s going to happen in the future. 
    Some of her predictions have been, “A real shake-up in the major political parties.” Wow! Who would have thought?
   “Sports personalities will be embroiled in scandals.” Boy, that’s never happened before.
   “Concerns about global warming will take center stage.” Now that’s a shot out of the blue. 
    Now, any person who is alive could make these same predictions, without the benefit of asparagus. 
    One question I have, (there will be more), is how does a person come to realize that spilled asparagus spears are foretelling the future. Do they stumble when delivering asparagus spears to the dining table and look at the result and gasp out, “Oh my, my spouse is going to cheat on me.” 
    Or is there some place you can go to learn to read asparagus? 
    Does it have to be organic or will any asparagus do? 
    How about wild asparagus—are its predictions X-rated? 
    Can this predicting be done with both raw and/or cooked asparagus? 
    After the asparagus has foretold the future is it appropriate to eat it? 
    Or maybe this asparagus throwing/reading person just discovered a way to get herself in the news.