Blog #181

 Well, NASA has not changed the names of the planets as I warned in last week’s episode.  Not yet, anyway, but they have changed the name of the Eskimo Nebula.  A nebula, as you all know, is a cloud of gas and dust in Outer Space.  In any event, no more Eskimo Nebula.  Now it’s called NGC 2392.  Catchy, don’t you think?  I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want an object in space named after your people.  My people have one.  It’s called Jew-piter, which is a huge ball of gas.  I think they named it after my Uncle.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are all feeling well and staying safe and being kind to each other and to animals.  I have a lot of animal stuff to talk about today.  First, we went to Lone Elk Park this week.  Lone Elk is one of those drive-through nature preserves where, from the comfort of your car, you can view bison, the occasional elk and packs of raccoons begging for food scraps.  Now, my wife is a very smart woman.  She’s math smart and book smart and street smart and people smart, but when it comes to animals, she’s a couple of lionesses short of a pride.  She asked me if there was a chance the bison would eat us.  And she doesn’t like raccoons.  I can understand that.  Bison and elk are regal and impressive and non-threatening.  Raccoons are evil little thieves who would sell their mothers for a French fry.  But they are truly adorable.

 

But that’s the way of the world, isn’t it?  You can tip over trash cans, nest in people’s attics and carry rabies, but if you’re a cute raccoon, people will still throw you food.  Or, you can lie, cheat and bribe the rowing coach at USC, but if you’re a beautiful TV star, you get a few weeks at camp, a little community service and a book deal.  The best service that Lori can provide to the community would be to move to NGC 2392.  And take her pain-in-the-asteroid husband with her.

 

Traffic Report:  A slowdown east of Imperial, Missouri was caused by cattle on the highway.  Well, that’s something you don’t hear about every day, but it is an actual news report.  I wonder what kind of cars the cattle were driving.  Probably a Cattle-Ac.  Or maybe a B-M-Double-Moo or a Toyudder or a Cowdi.

 

See, I told you this would be about animals.  Let’s talk about my cat.  At night, Shakespeare sits on the bed (on his special blanket) and watches television until Carol gets under the covers.  We don’t have a king-sized bed.  We have a King Kong sized bed. There is more than enough room for me, my lovely wife, Shakespeare and the Ohio State Marching Band.  But when Carol gets under the covers, Shaky mistakes her toes for a family of mice and attacks.  This is obviously unacceptable behavior and some little creature has to spend the night on the porch.

 

Our bed is sufficiently wide

But the cat Carol cannot abide

Cause the cat wants her toe

But my wife says No-No

I hope she likes sleeping outside.

 

No, of course it’s the cat that goes on the porch, at least for now, but don’t worry.  It’s an indoor porch all fitted with shelving to climb on, boxes to hide in, soft cushions to sleep on and an open window to enjoy the cool night air and the birdsong in the morning.  I think Carol will like it.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  What’s done cannot be undone.  To bed, to bed, to bed (Macbeth).  I guess I shouldn’t play with her toes, but I’m missing a whole foot-full of toes and I thought she had a few to spare. 

 

A few days after the bison and raccoons, we went to the Zoo.  I asked Carol what she wanted to see.  She said the Big White Thing.  I wasn’t sure whether she meant the polar bear or Donald Trump.  Hey, that gives me an idea.  Let’s do a straw vote.  Just send me a message at mfox1746@gmail.com with your vote for either Biden or Trump and I’ll give you the results next week.  C’mon, it’ll be fun and I won’t hold you to it.  Please don’t write-in yourself or Lori Laughlin – just Biden or Trump.

 

I had dinner last Sunday at Abby’s house.  Abby is my youngest daughter.  She lives seven minutes from our house (four if Carol’s driving) and invites us over every Sunday for dinner.  What a joy that is!  It’s always great food and fun with the kids.  Last week, after dinner, a neighbor came over to tell us there was a big, injured snake in the road, so the kids and I went to check it out.  I guess you could say that an injured snake has reptile dysfunction.  It was a slender, black, reticulated snake about two and a half feet long.  I looked it up when I got home.  It’s a Black Rat Snake; eats birds’ eggs, frogs, rodents; is preyed upon by hawks and other snakes and raccoons.  The poor thing was bleeding but still alive.  Most likely, it had been run over by a car.  The kids and the neighbors wanted to leave it alone, but I didn’t want it to die there in the street.  It was moving very slowly so I just picked it up (one hand on the throat and one on the body) and laid it in the grass while all the spectators cringed.  I checked an hour later and the snake was gone.  Maybe it recovered or slithered away to die or maybe it was eaten by a hawk.  But at least it didn’t die in the street.  Don’t let me die in the street.

 

And don’t miss next week’s blog.  Until then, stay well, count your blessings and send in your vote.

 

Oh, let’s not forget the Weekly Word.  Some of you really like this feature, so we’ll keep it going.  This week’s word is reticulated, which means in a diamond pattern or web-like pattern like a rattle snake or that Tommy Bahama shirt my wife won’t let me wear.  See you next week.

 

Michael                Send comments (and votes) to:  mfox1746@gmail.com