School Days, School Days, Good Old...

It is me again. Since it almost football season, it is time for all of us to swear our fealty to universities with good football teams. Teams who only excel in academics can go pee up a rope until it's time for commencement.

Now, most of you don't need to pay any attention to this picture. It is here for the benefit of my pal Bonnie. See, Bonnie is a stalwart of The Dark Side, a.k.a. Michigan State University, and that just won't do.

This fine shirt was brought to me in July by a buddy of mine, Vicki Bennett, who roots for the University of Michigan. And it just so happens that Vicki also is a former friend of Bonnie's. All this proves is that my allegiance is for sale.

So, anyway, go over to Bonnie's Place and give her the raspberry. Tough luck, Bonnie. (Scientists have put this in the category of "too bad.")

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Speaking of psychology, which my shirt was doing, I am thinking about the need to catch a case of paranoia. The only people here in The Old People's Home who seem to get any attention are those who've got delusions of one kind or another. Take my down-the-hall neighbor, Sixbit Rattigan. I was doing hall patrol yesterday when I caught ol' Rattigan talking to The Home's Administrator:

Rattigan: "People are always talking about me."

Administrator: "No, they're not."

Rattigan: "Not what?"

Administrator: "Talking about you."

Rattigan: "What are they saying?"

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My pal Oz has come through again:

"Incontinence Hotline....Can you hold, please?"

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Do you realize that in 40 years we'll have thousands of old women running around with tatoos?

"I suppose that there on your leg is some kind of snake?"

"No, that's a varicose vein."

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My favorite word today is gasoline. N., a rare breed. Def.: A combustible formerly sold in screw top containers, now available only in finer stores.