SPIKE BUYS A PHOTO ALBUM

Spike and I went yard sailing Saturday. Spike is my brain tumor, and since we are going to be together for awhile, I decided to name him. Actually, he picked the name Spike. I wanted to call him Leon.

We had a poor start. I had a headache and wanted to sleep in, but Spike kept calling me Nancy-boy, so I threw back the covers and we hit the road. Despite the pleasant weather not many folks were holding sales. And the first three were duds. Nothing but baby clothes and Family Dollar do dads. I was ready to head for home, but Spike insisted we keep looking for loot.

Spike fancies himself a pirate. To him, yard sale signs are treasure maps and he's always ready to dig for booty. He'll swagger across a yard full of junk, despite his limp, searching for pieces of eight, McCoy pottery, old books, gold doubloons, and vintage fishing lures. The pirate wants me to wear an eye patch. I might do it if it will shut him up.

Spike pointed out a yard sale sign I missed. I hit the brakes and made the turn. We drove a couple of miles but couldn't find the place. I was ready to give up but Spike told me to keep driving. We rounded a curve and found the joint. Spike starting singing something about a bottle of rum as we got out of the car. Now, Spike ain't got the best voice, and people were starting to snicker, so I told him to shut the hell up.

I found a bunch of books. Four leather bound Jeppesen Airway Manuals,
a couple of turn of the century religious pamphlets, and an old telephone directory from Virginia.

Spike found another old photograph album. Spike likes to pretend the photos of strangers he finds at yard sales are his family. When the woman holding the sale asked Spike if he was creating an instant family, Spike told her, "My relatives aren't that good looking and I'm replacing them with a better looking class of people."

That's Spike. The guy's a nut.

COMMON SENSE DIES TODAY

OBITUARY


Common Sense, a popular resident of long standing, died today. According to reports, she chocked on a ham sandwich while reading the Sunday Times.

She is preceded in death by her father, Good Sense, her mother, Horse Sense, and an elder brother, Yankee Ingenuity.

She is survived by two nieces, Paula Cole Correctness and Lotta Hype, and a nephew, Rush T. Judgment.

In lieu of flowers, the family requests mourners send donations to the following organizations:

ACLU

GET THE HAM OUT FOUNDATION

DON IMUS EFFIGY FUND

ROSIE FOR PRESIDENT CAMPAIGN FUND

HAM MY ASS

A pre-teen put food on a table, in a school cafeteria, and now faces possible hate crime charges.

O.K., it was ham, like the kind you find on a pig's ass. And the students he put it in front of are Muslim. But a crime?

We take things too seriously these days. When I was in the fifth grade our teacher asked the class where our ancestors came from. I told the class my Mom's side of the family came from Germany. This was back in the mid sixties. In the South.

The next day I found swastikas carved on my books. Now, I was ticked. I wasn't a Nazi. And my momma wasn't no Nazi. During recess I found the kids who did the carving and I lit into them like a cyclone in a hay field. When the oats separated from the chaff, two of the three had black eyes and the third was sporting a blood splattered shirt. And I was no longer a Nazi. The next day the four of us went bass fishing together.

And that was that. No one was charged. The school didn't get involved. The sheriff wasn't called. We settled things and moved on. Eventually, we grew up and left childish things to the children.

SPAZ THINKS SHE'S A PARROT

Lately, Spaz has been jumping on my shoulder. She stays perched there, like a parrot, as I walk about the house. If I start moving too fast, she puts a hind foot on either shoulder and hugs my forehead, resting her chin on the top of my head.

Spaz spends her morning hours sitting on the window sill chirping at the other birds feeding in the yard. When they chirp back, she gets excited and preens herself.

Any day now I expect to find an egg in her litter box.

WHAT'S BEHIND SHERYL CROW

In an effort to save the environment, SHERYL CROW wants us to use only one square of toilet paper.

Now, I don't know about you all, but I don't think I care to get in a swimming pool with the girl.