On Using Your Chickens As Hearing Aids.

chicken and clock

I thought it was time to get up and crow. I never heard a peep out of this contraption.

crowing rooster

Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me?

Chicken parts





I put that picture on the right because I felt sure you would think I was telling a lie about chicken ears. I have told a lie maybe twice or twelve times over the years about chicken teeth but chickens really do have ears and in coming years scientists who specialize in talking to chickens are likely to be a big help to people like me and you and Vic Miller because someone could ring the Liberty Bell a foot behind our backs and we would be at a loss if we had to describe what we just heard.

flying rooster

Can you hear me? Can you hear me? I’m talking to you.

Fuzzy Chicken

I can’t hear anything. I can’t see much either.

Rooster and chickens

Listen to me. Listen to me. You haven’t heard a word I’m saying.








They say chickens have the amazing ability to restore their own hearing. I don’t know how they figured that out. Maybe these guys really do talk to chickens. I would think chickens would be sick and tired of hearing all those big brash bold cockerels making  that crowing noise-racket all the time and they would prefer to be hard of hearing.

There are supporting cells in the inner ears of all mammals (except vertebrates) that can replace hair cells that have been damaged by loud noises and other causes. You have got to have hair cells if you want to hear what’s going on.

deaf rooster

“You talking to me? Hey! are you talking to me? Are you talking to me?”

hen pecking rooster

I didn’t hear a word she said and now she’s trying to peck a hole in my leg.

It is estimated that it will take ten years for scientists to discover the secret to how a chickens ear regenerates new hair cells but I live with a woman and I know women are going to push this research way outside the envelope.

Katy Mae has already suggested Vic and I should join the research team and begin to talk to chickens right away. At first we only need four chickens. We will teach them to talk Southern dialect to us. Then we each put a chicken on our right shoulder and one on our left shoulder and we will soon be joining in the fun and laughter and witty joking that goes on with our crazy friends.

The chickens will tell us what’s being said by putting their ears next to our ears and sound will be amplified straight through one ear and out the other ear of the chicken and directly into our ear canals. We will be able to hear anything going on around us. It’s a miracle.  I have already picked names for my two chickens. I’m going to call them “Huh” and “What.”

I’m not so dumb as to think deaf women will accept the, “Chicken on the shoulder” as an immediate cure but the good news for women is mice can also replicate ear hair cells.

It will take very little effort and time to train mice to perch on a lady’s round earrings like small birds while allowing the woman the use of their little mouse ears just as the chickens will do for men.

The research is also supposed to cure tinnitus so we won’t have to put up with all those bells we’ve been hearing.

My only concern about the wisdom in this project is my old pal Bubba Jack Johnson. He has fallen upon hard times and he dearly loves fried chicken.  wild chicken

Chicken fence

If he says “Huh” to me one more time I’m going                               to snatch his big head through that fence.

Order From Amazon.com

Quit resisting the temptation and go ahead and click on this book cover. Amazon.com will show you how easy it is to buy the book and you will be surprised at how  cheap it is.

Good-Bye Mr. Chops-World’s Oldest Pot-Bellied Pig Dies.


Mr. Chops loved to be hugged. He was a real ladies’ man.

PB Pig 2

Mr. Chops indulging in his two favorite pastime activities.

PB Pig

Nothing like a pot-bellied pig with his own kitchen but he had to have maids because he couldn’t reach the sink.






Mr. Chops has left us. He died June 1st which was a time that befit him because it was a Sunday and he usually consumed many thousands of calories each Sunday. His favorite day to eat from sunup to sundown was always Sunday.

He was even learning to eat in his sleep when he choked to death on a forty pound pig pretzel. He ran out of cold beer at the most inopportune of moments right when the pretzel kind of backed up on him. It is said he was the oldest pig to ever live but, as we all know, few pigs get a chance to live past the distinction of being a number one porker. Americans are especially fond of barbecued ribs and pork chops.

And by the way, how would you learn the age of a pig? Mr. Chops was intelligent but he could not talk. If you run up on a boar hog in a South Georgia swamp and you ask him his age he might say, “Who gives a rip?” Then he’ll illustrate a good rip to sensitive parts of your body with razor sharp tusks (this right before he laughs you under a cypress knee for trying to talk to a pig).

But Mr. Chops had witnesses to his age. He was just 17 days shy of being 22 years old and ever since he was ten years old, hundreds of people from miles around would gather for the “Annual Mr. Chops Birthday Bash.” The crowds would joyfully sing, “Happy Birthday” to Mr. Chops. Mr. Chops would oink back in sincere porker appreciation.

He had many talents. He could run figure eights around his owner’s legs on command. He loved watching TV. His favorite game was “Hide and Seek.” His owner would scatter Cheerios over the kitchen floor as a treat for him. He could find a treat in a towel and roll out a rug. He could dance left and then dance right. He could heel, sit, stay and count by nodding his head. He loved to sit in his owner’s lap for a hug. I think that’s a picture of her in the red tee-shirt holding him and I’m not really sure she has a lap ample enough to hold Mr. Chops but then somehow she seemed to manage.

He wore a red turtleneck sweater when he took walks in the winter. During his last year the owner’s hubby Mr. Wally prepared and fed Mr. Chops warm dinners.

I have been practicing to take Mr. Chops place there at the Critter Barn. I think I will be perfect to take his place. I’m trying to get Katie Mae to help me train.

Katie Mae is having a bit of a struggle while I’m training to take Mr. Chops’ place.

I have pretty much mastered all his tricks. She even prepares me warm evening meals and wearing a red turtleneck sweater on walks this coming winter will be a snap.

I sensed reluctance on her part when she said, “I am not letting a damned pig sit in my lap while I hug on him.” I’m pretty sure she means me and this morning when I scattered Cheerios all over her kitchen floor, she beat the hell out of me with a broom handle. You should see my right ankle.


Mr. Chops in happier days – Waiting on a cab for a dinner trip into the city.

Order From Amazon.com

I’m not sure if there are any stories in this book about pot-bellied pigs but you can easily find out by ordering the book or the Kindle version by clicking on the lady’s blue shawl. It will take you right to Amazon.com where you can find this precious book.






Back When Women Sewed.


Drawer in sewing table.

sewing 33

Drop leaf sewing table from plantation home near Albany, Georgia.







sewing 20

Second drawer in sewing table.


Mr. Singer and company have been making sewing machines for a long, long time but long before a sewing machine was ever dreamed of, creative and industrious women from all walks of life took needle, thread and cloth in hand and made the most beautiful clothes ever fashioned. For me that statement remains true to this day and so I dedicate this little blog post to all of you who still love to sew.

I had the great fortune to be born to a lovely woman who could out sew any of Mr. Singer’s fine contraptions and some years later, my good luck was still with me when I married a woman who could sew as well as, if not better than, my Mother.

The pictures shown are from a sewing table that I believe came from a plantation house near Albany, Georgia. Remarkably the prices shown on the contents of the table look like they are from the 1930’s or 1940’s. This is a little sewing time-capsule and I think you’ll enjoy trying to remember how some of these items were used.

sewing 30

The hooks at top were 15¢. The snaps at left were 29¢ and the others were 10¢.

sewing 32

Sewing scissors.






The contents looked as if someone had just finished sewing and had walked away from the table for a moment. It looks like it has never been used since the 30’s or 40’s and I’ll bet the last person to use it has not been with us for many years.

sewing 19

This is how the scissors look when closed.

sewing 29

Katie Mae says that elastic pictured at the top was often used in bloomers.







sewing 11

When do you think we last bought needles from England?



sewing 13

American needles.

sewing 14

sewing 4





sewing 7

Brass Straight Pins described as DeLong Silk Pens in picture above.

sewing 21

Wooden buttons, mother of pearl buttons, metal buttons and fabric covered buttons.


Crude advertising graphics from long ago.

sewing 18

I’m not sure of the name of this needle/pin keeper. It has tiny paper labels naming the needles to be placed in each leaf. It looks like wool leaves or pages.









sewing 17


sewing 16






sewing 9

Closed this appears to be an eyeglass case but it’s actually a holder for needles. I’ve now scratched it from the list of things I had never seen before. See picture on right.





sewing 3

Needles made in England. The fabric mending patches in the package on the left cost 25¢.







So that’s it ladies. It’s quite an antiquated collection isn’t it. I should have posted this for Throw Back Thursday.

If You Are Afraid Of the Moon – Tonight is Not Your Night.

Blood_Moon moon 3





When the moon is as red as the eye of a dog gone mad……..

and the top of your head wants to leave a body gone bad.

Know you’re selenophobic, you’re afraid of the moon old man………

and go bury your head deep, as deep as you can, in the sand.

If you are a selenophobic and you are also afraid of Friday the 13th (a friggatriskaidekaphobic) I guess that makes you a friggatriskaidekaselenophobic.

Midnight tonight winds down that horrible day so frightfully remembered as Friday the Thirteenth and Mother Nature, the oldest prankersterist in the universe has added a full moon to keep you on your toes looking out for werewolves and vampires.

You probably have had trouble breathing all day and you thought your heart was skipping out of tune or your asthma was acting up. Nope, that’s not it. Your panties have been in a wad because deep within your head, (that’s where your feeble mind is located) your subconscious voice has been saying, “Oh, Lord it’s Friday the Thirteenth and there’s a full moon tonight.”

It’s been almost a hundred years since it happened before and it won’t happen again for 35 more years so if people in my age group can fearlessly stomp their way through the rest of the day, we’ll be home safe. Keep your fanny-stomping bad-kicking boots on until at least past midnight. If you are one who goes to sleep early just sleep in your boots. Nobody will mind because millions and millions of people are afraid of the 13th when it falls on a Friday. Let’s stomp and kick our way through it. The odds are pretty darned good we won’t see this problem crop up again.

2moon 6





Most people know that the words “lunacy” and “lunatic” are derived from the word, “lunar.” which is the Latin word for the moon. Some people even believe a full moon’s gravitational pull may influence a person’s behavior. Multitudes of policemen, EMT’s and firemen will attest to the truth in all this.

Many people think the moon pulls water in the body like it does when it creates tides in the oceans and seas. All that water shifting around in your body supposedly makes you act strangely and stagger and it will make you more likely to have accidents. Drinking too many adult beverages does not seem to factor into explanations of this bizarre behavior.

I know from personal experience that the part about gravitational pull is all baloney. I used to believe it until one night after a few beers I walked out into the bright light of a full moon and I felt myself being lifted toward the moon in a fantastically strong pull. I rose so fast I struck the top of my head on a limb.

When I came to the next morning, still under that tree, I saw my arm had become entangled in an old bicycle inner tube nailed to the limb. Now man if you want to talk about a strong gravitational-like pull, just get hung up in an old inner tube from a bike and let it whisk you off your feet head first into a large live oak limb.

Since then I have never worried about lunar phases, high tide, low tide or gravitational pull.

I know what made me loony……..It was that live oak limb.

Order From Amazon.com

Ben Swilley’s weird book can be ordered by clicking this cover and going directly to Amazon.com. It’s cheap.

moon 4






The strange oriental stick letters spell out the words, ” Beware. Tonight’s full moon on Friday the 13th will see werewolves and vampires in action. Stay home tonight.”


I Can Still Hear Elvis Singing

Elvis-4Why are we all (almost to the last person) so nutty bananas about music? Why do we spend our days and nights humming tunes and then we go to bed and we dream more tunes?

Why does Elvis go on singing day and night in our heads? I can tell you only one thing I feel sure of. For most of us the music will never stop until the day we die.

ElvisSeveral years I read a book by Oliver Sacks entitled “Musicophilia.” You might remember Dr.Sacks as being the man who wrote “Awakenings” which was made into a movie starring Robert De Niro and Robin Williams. He is a physician and Professor of Clinical Neurology and Psychiatry at Columbia University.

Apparently music occupies more areas of our brain than language does. I am not surprised. I have seen the Dawg Walk in Athens, Georgia on game day a number of times and I can vouch for the mind boggling beat of the drums and the fire stoked heat of the Redcoat Marching Band leaving hundreds of us speechless out behind the Tate Student Center. We are all reduced to going, “Woof, woof, woof, woof, sic ’em.”

Elvis 3Aren’t we so glad that the music plays well for us and the power of music can uplift us if we are depressed. It sets us to dancing when we feel bad. It magically transcends us from depths of somber moments and takes us back to a happy carefree time in our youth.

Be happy because Dr. Sacks tells us some people suffer from “amusia.” People who have amusia can listen to a symphony or other forms of music and it all sounds like a clattering of pots and pans to them. Sometimes our sensitivity to music can go wrong and a person can acquire non-stop musical hallucinations that attack them night and day.

But by nature music is impossible for us to resist. It is incapable of being forgotten and that is probably the reason Parkinson’s and stroke patients so often respond to music and to music alone.

So be glad our music goes so right for the great majority of us. Be glad we hear what we are supposed to hear. Hang with your own brand of music and be a happy, happy person.

I was never a great one for wanting to see Elvis in action and I was never a die-hard screaming-meemie fan but I can vouch for one thing. On a cold January day in 1935 in a two room shack in Tupelo, Mississippi an angel of death took a tiny stillborn child back to a better place.

And then a second angel (undoubtedly with golden harp in her hand) reached down and stroked the equally tiny twin brother on his throat and from that day on his vocal cords were as good as gold until the day he died. Thank God for electronically reproduced sound. The gold still flows.

And thank God I hear the music in my head every day. It serves me well.

And yes, I do hear Elvis singing every day.

Order From Amazon.com

Click on the beautiful blue shawl. It takes you straight to Amazon.com- they are expert at showing you how you can buy this funny, strange little book for next to nothing (in American dollars).


Gwyneth Paltrow and Singing To Your H2O.

Gwen 2GwynethThey are giving poor Gwyneth Paltrow a hard time once again.

She insists on talking to reporters who talk to other reporters and then the other reporters misconstrue all those frank and honest statements she seems to so stupidly make at the drop of a hat. Never mind that she told a Spanish reporter back in 2006 that the English were smarter than Americans. She later said that she was speaking Spanish when she made this statement to the press and perhaps she misspoke because Spanish was not a language she could speak well (or understand well, I might add).

Lately she has “consciously uncoupled” from her husband. You have got to admire the phrasing she uses here. I can see an All-American girl telling her man she was going to “consciously uncouple’ from him. He would roll over and go back to sleep and in the real world it would not be a peaceful sleep for him. He would be out for hours; knocked unconscious as she “consciously uncoupled” him with a ten-inch cast-iron frying pan.

Gwyneth carefully considered her words when she next babbled that being criticized on social media was “just like war.” What war? It must have been a domestic war brought on by “unconsciously/consciously-uncoupling (with a ten-inch cast-iron frying pan). What war has Gwyneth Paltrow ever seen? No question that statement pissed off millions of people around the world who have really been in a war.

I was going to try to take up for her but I am not a fatalist. Besides she can afford to buy Barack Obama, Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, Susan Rice, and Joe Biden plus another burlap sack full of idiots just like them to pitch the good press for her. They can put a Half-Nelson twist on the truth that will make even Gwyneth Paltrow look smart. She doesn’t need me to lie for her.

I was going to plead ignorance on her behalf because it’s obvious she knows absolutely nothing. She has been writing and singing and acting since the late nineties. Her plate has been overflowing (I was going to argue). The only problem is, she did not have to think one single time to accomplish these wondrous achievements. She wrote cook books. That’s right, cookbooks. Any unaccomplished fool can scramble around and throw a few recipes between two covers and come up with a cookbook. Hers were probably ghostwritten.

And singing is making music with your voice to a tune and words somebody else wrote. You do not have to be very bright to be a good singer. Acting is even more of a play on words that someone else wrote for you to voice.

So now she directs our attention once again to the world of the conscious and the energy of consciousness. Gwyneth has a website named “GOOP.” Now I don’t know what Gwyneth thinks “GOOP” stands for but I know goop is a sticky greasy substance you can get on the bottom of your shoe.

She is quoted on her aptly named website as saying, “I am fascinated by the growing science behind the energy of consciousness and its effects on matter. I have long had Dr. Emoto’s coffee table book on how negativity changes the structure of water, how the molecules behave differently depending on the words or music being expressed around it.”

Now she does not explain who Dr. Emoto is exactly and I don’t give enough of a damn to try to find out. I can only guess he was another mindless fool cast in an old James Bond movie to flesh out the character of Odd Job.

She has a scientist friend, Dr. Habib Sadeghi, who described Dr. Emoto pouring pure water into vials labelled with negative phrases like, “I hate you” or “Fear.” After 24 hours the water was frozen but it did not crystallize. The ice was misshapen and gray.

In contrast the good doctor Emoto then took vials of water labelled, “I love you” or “Peace” and froze it. The ice from this experiment was composed of gleaming, perfectly hexagonal crystals.

Poor Gwyneth. She is as childlike and empty-headed as she was at birth. Now she is advised by people who claim you can sing and speak pleasantly to your water and when you freeze it your ice will be prettier.

It has never occurred to her that it doesn’t matter if the ice is gray and misshapen or in gleaming, perfectly hexagonal crystals. The ice only needs to cool your beverage. I guess she has never thought that deeply about the purpose of ice.

I feel so lost and left out of her world. My water freezes inside the refrigerator/freezer. I will never know if it is happy or otherwise. I never get a chance to see it, speak to it or sing to it.

Order From Amazon.com

Click here to order this wonderful little book from Amazon.com. It will make you happy……I hope.


Girls! Girls! Girls! Weird Health Tips For Women.

As a continuing service to maintain a healthy female population in the United States I have diligently ferreted out these mid-sized morsels of clues and tips to let you gals know how you are faring as you age. Naturally I only do this out of love for all of you because I want you to know how much I appreciate you loving, nourishing and caring for so many of us sorry no-good males for what must seem like endless years of turmoil and struggle.

tallest womentall womenThese are weird health clues so I will only mention about half of them so as not to confuse, scare or anger you too much at one time. I will follow up with a few more tips in a few more days.

Height – If you are over 5’2″ tall you may have missed out on a gene mutation that aids women in reaching one hundred years of age. They say it may help to quit smoking and cut back on your intake of alcohol and meat. They failed to mention that you might kick that guy out of the house if he is causing too much stress in your life. The idiot that wrote this article did not recognize the fact that most girls are grown up as much as they are going to grow up by their late teens nor did they mention a method to help young girls stop growing.

Finger Length – If your index finger is shorter than your ring finger you may be twice as prone to osteoarthritis in your knees. This is predominately a characteristic of some males and it may indicate you also have a lower level of estrogen. No mention was made of how you could get that ring finger shorter than your index finger. Maybe you could file the nail on the ring finger more vigorously. It also did not mention the length of the ring finger’s twin on the right hand. It did say you can exercise your knees. WOW! What an article. It could have at least brought you some joy by reminding you that your low estrogen level may make you fully capable of kicking the fanny of the guy causing you all that stress.

gals handsLeg Length – If you have stocky legs you need to pay attention to the health of your liver. Women with legs between 20 and 29 inches long tend to have higher levels of four enzymes that are liver disease indicators. Watch your alcohol intake and use a mask and gloves when using harsh chemical cleaners. We want to be sure you are a long liver. I just had to say that. You don’t want Mr. Stressful out living you.many hands

Arm Length – Women with the shortest arm spans are one and a-half times more likely to develop Alzheimer’s. Arm spans (measure outspread arms, from fingertip to fingertip) of 60 inches or less is a good indicator. Keep your mind active. Challenge your brain. Show Mr. Stress Maker you can out-argue him. Short arm span isn’t all bad. A woman with Alzheimer’s and long arms who reaches for something in a high cabinet will forget what she’s reaching for before her hand gets to it. If you have a shorter arm you won’t have that problem.

Sense of Smell – If you are getting older and you no longer can identify the scent of bananas, lemons, cinnamon or other notable odoriferous items you may be five times more likely to develop Parkinson’s disease within four years. They say the olfactory function of the brain may be the first one impacted by Parkinson’s – between two and seven years prior to diagnosis. Use that old boy who stresses you out as a gauge. We know he’s retired now and he’s taking a bath about once a week or less. Don’t fuss at him. If you suddenly stop smelling him you might learn you’re on the road to Parkinson’s. Take fish oil supplements. It’s supposed to help. Not help your man’s odor but the encroachment of Parkinson’s.

I think it’s wise to follow little hints and clues like this just to keep up with the ongoing health problems that we are all facing. I just wouldn’t worry too much about one silly article in some magazine. These articles are written by professional writers in their twenties. They don’t know a thing about your health or your body. They read all this stuff in some obtuse report just like you and I did.

Besides how can some dunce tell you that you are five times more likely to get Parkinson’s or the indicators can reveal the disease between two and seven years before the actual diagnosis? It may be twelve times or two times or no times. It may be one year or thirteen years or no years.

And that’s what obtuse means ladies…..stupid or unintelligent.

Order From Amazon.com

Clicking on this incredibly romantic picture avails you of the incredible opportunity to go directly to Amazon.com where you can buy the book for a mere pittance.