CSotD: Sunday Morning Up and Down
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It’s come to that, as Non Sequitur (AMS) reminds us.
It’s no longer even a case of good ol’ Proverbs 26:4, Answer not a fool according to his folly, lest thou also be like unto him, though it’s certainly true that you need to distinguish between someone who wants a discussion and someone who is just throwing mudballs.
Even then, we need to jump a chapter to Proverbs 27:22, Though you grind a fool like grain with mortar and a pestle, yet his folly will not depart from him.
Mostly, the answer lies between the two, in Proverbs 26:17, Like one who grabs a dog by the ears is a passerby who meddles in a quarrel not his own, which some of us have been quoting since Vietnam and most of us have since forgotten in the era of social media.
In any case, to quote a different font of scripture, the line it is drawn, the curse it is cast, and nobody will hear what you have to say.
They’ll only judge whose side it comes from and respond accordingly.
So let’s switch to lighter fare, and let me compliment Dave Coverly for this Speedbump (AMS) not because it’s all that brilliant, though it made me chuckle, but for knowing what a dogfish looks like. It’s only a small silhouette in the background, but such things matter.
But I’m not sure what to do with this Flying McCoys (AMS), because the two yout’s in the docket ought to be named Biff and Chip, but I’ll say no more, because, out here, we’ve got a kind of Code of Silence about cowtipping that keeps the sport alive.
You’ll just have to trust me that nobody named Bubba was ever caught in the act.
Must be because country boys are so experienced in the game. Yeah, that’s it.
But I’ll offer the McCoys a compensatory LOL for this Duplex (AMS), because it really did crack me up. I finally started hitting the ball around 13, and the first few times I got on base were the result of having astonished the defense.
Speaking of country matters, as we were, Edison Lee (KFS) gets a laugh not so much for the joke but for the memory of a fellow who got lost on Mt. Elbert last fall and stayed out there for 24 hours, not because he’d forgotten his cell phone but because he wouldn’t answer repeated calls from a number he didn’t recognize.
It was the search-and-rescue team.
As always, it’s not so much that you can’t make this stuff up, but that you don’t have to.
As William Haefili reminds us, it’s important to be prepared when you go out into the noonday sun. Prepared to be laughed at.
I’ve used ballcaps this summer, but I did have a good grass boater a few years ago that was cool, protected my head and looked okay. For a while. Until it had been tossed into the passenger’s seat a few times too many between outings.
But it didn’t have a chin strap.
(Yes, I know. Coverage matters. My ex-father-in-law was very vulnerable to skin cancer and so wore a kepi when he mowed the lawn. It looked unusual, but not dorky. There’s a difference.)
To which I will add that it really is hot, both here and in Banx’s native Britain, where they walk their dogs on the other side.
The park where my dog recreates includes a large athletic field that she’s not supposed to go on, in any sense of the word, but it’s been largely ignored this summer, due to personnel shortages at Parks and Rec and the fact that the town built a sports complex on the other side of town.
The interesting thing is that, despite a near-drought here, the native grass in the other three-quarters of the place seems to be doing pretty well, but the magical green velvet planted on the field is, indeed, turning to hay.
There’s a lesson in ecology in there for anyone looking to learn something.
And another quibble today, for Real Live Adventures (AMS), since I can’t imagine how a child could become old enough to talk without having tried peas.
It’s okay not to like them. My little brother didn’t like frozen peas, but not because they were an unknown factor. He just didn’t like the texture.
But, jeez louise, there was a time in both my sons’ lives in which frozen peas and Cheerios made up a pretty large percentage of their between-meal intake, as well as a pretty large percentage of the stuff scattered around under their high chairs and hence an important part of the dogs’ regular diet.
The assault on things that, if you can’t explain them, probably don’t work, continues over at Sherman’s Lagoon (AMS), and this topic seems likely immune from the danger of lead time making a comic land on the page after cyberbeaniebabies have made a miraculous recovery and are now worth more than you paid for them.
Anyway, Paul Krugman and I have our doubts.
The joke here being that Sherman is usually the fool, but we’ve all seen how that’s been unfolding. Someone should make this strip into an NFT and sell it for $50,000 in bitcoins.
Also on the topic of bafflegab, I’ve sat through enough meetings that all I can say to today’s Madam & Eve is that, at the end of the day, it is what it is.
One more of those meetings and I was gonna turn into Mr. Stevenson.
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