The True Tiger ...

"Tony the Tiger" ... famous advertising mascot for Kellogg's Frosted Flakes (also known as Frosties) breakfast cereal, appearing for decades on its packaging and advertising ... more recently, Tony also became the mascot for Tony's Cinnamon Krunchers and Tiger Power ... born in 1952, Tony competed against three other potential mascots for the public's affection: Katy the Kangaroo (originated by Robert Dulaney in the early sixties), Elmo the Elephant, and Newt the Gnu ... within the year, the other mascots were dropped, with Elmo and Newt never once gracing the front of a cereal box.

Tony later fathered a son, "Tony Jr." ... then soon became a cereal icon ... in 1958, Tony appeared on Kellogg cereal boxes with Hanna-Barbera characters, such as Huckleberry Hound ... in the 1970s, consumers were briefly introduced to more of Tony's family including Mama Tony, Mrs. Tony, and a daughter, Antoinette ... Tony had a huge year in 1974, where he was deemed "Tiger of the Year" in an advertising theme taken from the Chinese Lunar Calendar ... in addition to Tony's success, during this decade, son Tony Jr. was even given his own short-lived cereal in 1975, Frosted Rice, then he made a comeback in the 2000's replacing his father as the official mascot ... the Tiger family has changed significantly over the years, as Tony the whimsical, cereal-box-sized tiger with a teardrop-shaped head was replaced by his fully-grown son Jr., who is now a sleek, muscular sports enthusiast.

Tony the Tiger was never limited to American Cereal boxes, appearing on Kellogg's European brand cereal boxes ... in 1996, the Kellogg Company filed suit against Exxon Corp. (now ExxonMobil) claiming that the use of the Exxon tiger figure to sell food at TigerMart convenience stores infringed and diluted Kellogg's Tony the Tiger trademark ... in 2000, the Supreme Court let stand an appellate court decision allowing Kellogg to sue, even though both trademarks had co-existed without complaint for 30 years ... the appellate court held that the theory of "progressive encroachment" could explain and justify Kellogg's failure to take action earlier.

During the continuing, decades-long existence of Tony the Tiger, and the entire Tiger family, as countless celebrity figures and other renowned characters were fraught with controversy and scandal before the glaring scrutiny of the public eye ... Tony the Tiger has remained a wholesome family tiger ... one of our most shining standards of integrity - loyalty - honesty - and solid moral fabric ... a tiger blazing an ideal trail of appropriate social behavior and good character that any parent should be more than pleased to have their child follow ... the true tiger ... Tony the Tiger! ... He's GGGGRRREEEEEEAT!!!!!!! ... and has never cheated on his wife ...


--sja

Welcome To Walmart! ...

I don't know about you, but I'm so tired of hearing about those White House "crashers" that I've thought about jettisoning my TV and radio right out the window ... I could care less why Michaele and Tareq Salahi did it, I reckon they're simply of the same ilk as "balloon boy's" parents - media hounds looking for their own reality TV show - or seekers of quick fame and easy fortune any way they can get it ... no my question is, if the couple actually managed to gain access to the White House dinner as "uninvited guests" - how were they able to get past White House staffers and Secret Service security procedures? ... if I were the President, I would be more than a bit hot under the collar ... what if their intent had been to harm the President or others?

If I were the President, and if Michaele and Tareq Salahi were discovered to have broken any law associated with crashing that White House dinner ... they would now be facing criminal charges ... immediately arrested ... forthwith jailed ... prosecuted to the furthest extent of the law ... tried in a court of law ... and if found guilty ... magically transformed from uninvited White House guests to inmates of one of our fine federal correctional facilities ... then provided with free transportation to that facility ... that would be that.

More importantly, if I were the President, and if Michaele and Tariq Salahi did actually manage to maneuver their way past those White House staffers and Secret Service Agents - as it's being reported to the press, and as presented to the public ... I would be extremely concerned with my safety ... so consequently, those White House staffers and Secret Service Agents which allowed the Salahis to slip past them uninvited, would immediately find themselves standing in the unemployment line seeking a career more suitable to their experience, ability and skill ... maybe some of them could become Border Patrol Agents - they are required to deal with countless "uninvited guests" on a daily basis ... or how about this ... some could hire on as Walmart greeters .... I can hear it now -- "Attention Walmart shoppers -- please welcome the Salahis!"


--sja

Shots Fired! ...

Ever since Grandpa DooLittle swilled too much hard apple cider, which triggered his frightening run in with the Devil out in the barn, Grandpa decided to move his remaining supply of cider and a fresh batch of homemade elderberry wine into Luther DooLittle's barn for safe storage ... and for safer sippin' ... and he reckoned he had the perfect plan for doing just that ... Grandpa had recently sold a truckload of hay to Luther, and planned on hauling it over to Luther's place on his old, barely road-worthy flatbed truck, which he had already loaded beyond capacity with hay ... just beneath the wooden bed of the truck, between the metal frame and the exhaust pipes, were hidden two stone jugs containing what was left of the hard apple cider, along with twenty-two, one-gallon plastic milk jugs filled with the homemade wine ... Grandpa DooLittle knew that Sheriff Clarence A. VanMeter would be lurking somewhere alongside the highway near the foot of the long grade that wound up the side of Snipe Mountain, usually hidden behind the big Sunbeam Bread billboard ... motorists would either coast downhill too fast, or try to get a running start uphill, so it was Sheriff Clarence's favorite spot for a speed trap ... more importantly, Grandpa didn't want Grandma DooLittle to know anything about the transfer of the spirits, she thought Grandpa had sworn off drinking and dumped everything he had into the trough with the hogs' slop ... so the old man waited until sunset, and departed under cover of darkness.

It was an uneventful trip as Grandpa motored along careful not to exceed the posted speed limit or make any illegal maneuvers with the unsteady old truck ... as he neared the base of Snipe Mountain he thought about building up some speed to make it easier to climb the grade, but the overloaded, vintage machine wasn't capable of such, not with that heavy load of hay even if he'd tried, so Grandpa downshifted a couple of gears lower and let the truck grind up the hill at its own pace ... with no sign of Sheriff VanMeter anywhere ....... until Grandpa heard the screaming siren and saw the flashing blue lights behind him ... he wondered why in blue blazes the Sheriff would be stopping him, he couldn't think of any immediate laws that had been broken ... then he remembered ... the truck's taillights ... they never had worked! ... so Grandpa pulled to the side of the road, knocked the truck out of gear, set the parking brake and waited as the Sheriff's big V8 pulled up behind him.

Well, Sheriff VanMeter climbed out of his car and slowly approached Grandpa's truck, ticket book in hand ... the Sheriff had known Grandpa all his life, and intended on letting him off with just a warning ... just as Clarence walked up even with the rear of the truck -- one of those plastic jugs filled with wine, which had heated up and expanded due to the tremendous heat from the truck's exhaust pipes, along with the natural fermentation process -- exploded! ... BOOOOOOOMM! ... ol' Clarence ran back to his car, grabbed the mic from his antiquated Motorola police radio and yelled "Shots fired! ... Shots fired!! ... Bring help!!! ... then he pulled his pistol and took cover by belly-flopping right there on the ground beside of his car ... he couldn't imagine why in the world Grandpa DooLittle would be shooting at him like that ... over taillights that never had worked! ... then those other jugs started popping ... Booom! .. booom! ... boom booom booooomm!!!

Grandpa DooLittle couldn't imagine why on earth Sheriff Clarence A. VanMeter would be shooting at him like that either ... over taillights that never had worked! ... so he sprawled out across the seat and took cover ... BOOOOOOM! .. BOOOOOOOMM!! ... BOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!!! ... now Sheriff VanMeter's only Deputy, and first cousin Cletus A. VanMeter had heard the Sheriff's broadcast over his two-way radio, but those army surplus radios had always been hard to hear and transmitted more static than anything else rendering them nearly useless ... so Deputy Cletus had misunderstood, and thought the Sheriff had said that he was "Hungry and tired! ... Hungry and tired!! ... Bring lunch!!! ... so Cletus had taken his good ol' time getting there with cheeseburgers and chocolate milkshakes he'd picked up from the diner on the way.

In the meantime, after all twenty-two plastic jugs had finished emptying their contents onto the side of the highway, a steady stream of warm, red elderberry wine had oozed down the shoulder of the road and drenched Sheriff VanMeter who had been lying there on the ground during the "shootout" ... when Clarence realized that he was lying in a pool of warm liquid, he switched on his flashlight to discover that it was a bright red, warm substance, well he thought he had been shot and forthwith passed out! ... when Deputy Sheriff Cletus A. VanMeter finally arrived on the scene with the burgers and shakes in hand, he found Grandpa DooLittle shaking like a leaf and slumped across the seat of his truck ... twenty-two empty plastic jugs along with a pool of fresh homemade elderberry wine spilled all over the side of the road ... and most shockingly unbelievable was the sight of his cousin and boss Sheriff Clarence A. VanMeter lying there face down on the ground drenched in elderberry wine ... and passed out cold! ... Cletus shook the daylights out of ol' Clarence in an attempt to wake him from his stupor, but the Sheriff appeared to be skidded beyond repair ... Cletus stood up, peered down at one of the most upstanding and respected men in the entire county then said ... "Clarence A. VanMeter ... you might be my cousin and the High Sheriff ... it's no great surprise that Grandpa DooLittle is lying over there three sheets to the wind ... but you ought to be ashamed of yourself ... drinkin' on the job like that ... you're a lawman for cryin' out loud!"


--sja

Pardon Me Please? ... A Turkey's Tale ...

Thomas T. "Tommy" Turkey here ... I'm gonna cut right to the chase ... a while back, that whinin' complainer Jack O' Lantern was cryin' the blues about how punkins are murdered and mistreated in the precedin' days leadin' up to and includin' Halloween ... well Jack ought to try livin' the life and dyin' the death of an American turkey ... then Jack would have somethin' to complain about ... we turkeys endure mistreatment and mayhem year round, not just durin' the holidays ... we get no respect even though we been around as long as those punkins have ... we was livin' here in America long before Columbus and them Pilgrims landed on that rock and discovered America ... that's when the trouble began ... when them Pilgrims showed them Native Indians how to prepare us turkeys, along with some dressin' and gravy in exchange for some sweet taters and corn, life was never again the same for the American turkey ... I reckon that feast was necessary to prevent those Indians from scalpin' those Pilgrims, and to prevent those Pilgrims from shootin' those Indians, I ain't really sure ... but us turkeys got the short end of that stick! ...

Are you aware that at one time us turkeys and those bald eagles was both considered as America's national symbols? ... back then, Benjamin Franklin was really pullin' for us turkeys ... he thought even though we was silly and vain, we was a better choice for the national symbol than those "cowardly" bald eagles ... well I think so too ... them Pilgrims and them Native Indians could just as easily have had roasted bald eagle for that Thanksgivin' feast, along with bald eagle dressin' and bald eagle gravy ... and so should you people ... besides, those bald eagles are much better lookin' than us turkeys ... not as dry and probably tastier too ... each year durin' Thanksgiven' alone, nearly 50 million of us birds are murdered, cooked and consumed ... and another 250 million of us meet with the very same fate durin' the rest of the year ... a travesty indeed ...

Each year since 1947, the National Turkey Federation and the Poultry and Egg National Board have given one of us turkeys to the President of the United States at a White House ceremony ... since then, presidents have been more likely to eat us rather than grant a reprieve ... one notable exception occurred in 1963, when President Kennedy, referring to the turkey given to him, said, "Let's just keep him" ... it wasn't until the first Thanksgivin' of President George H.W. Bush, in 1989, that a turkey was officially pardoned for the first time ...

Presidents Bill "Slick Willy" Clinton and George "Dubya" Bush have continued the turkey pardons begun under the first ol' Bush ... some confusion about the true origin of this practice has crept into recent presidential speeches ... one story claims that Harry Truman pardoned a turkey called "Veep" given to him in 1947, but the Truman Library has been unable to find any evidence of this ... another story claims the tradition dates back to Abraham Lincoln pardoning his son Tad's pet turkey "Hannibal" ... what's certain is that since 1989 a turkey -- and its alternate -- have been pardoned each year ... an alternate is chosen just in case the first bird is unable to perform its duties, as if that's going to happen! ... for fifteen years through 2004, the pardoned turkeys were given to Kidwell Farm, a petting zoo at Frying Pan Park in Herndon, Virginia ... those fortunate turkeys would receive a last minute pardon before arriving, and were then led to their new home at the Turkey Barn after enduring a turkey "roast" full of poultry humor and history ... in 2005 and 2006, however, the turkeys were flown to Disneyland in California where they served as honorary grand marshals for Disneyland's Thanksgivin' Day parade ... after that, they spent the rest of their lives at a Disneyland ranch ... a spot in sunny Disneyland seems immensely preferable to a place called Frying Pan Park if you happen to be one of us turkeys who has just escaped from becoming the main course of somebody's Thanksgivin' feast! ...

On Wednesday, November 26, 2008, President Bush gave two of my cousins, "Pumpkin" and "Pecan," a last-minute reprieve ... they both hailed from Ellsworth, Iowa, and were raised under the most pleasant of environments ... back then, the American public was allowed to vote for their favorite turkeys on the White House web site ... durin' 2007, my uncle "May" and aunt "Flower" were both spared ... in 2006, grandpa "Flyer" and grandma "Fryer" escaped the roasting pot ... back in 2005 my sister "Marshmallow" and my brother "Yam" were permitted to see many more sunrises ... and way back durin' 2004, both of my parents, "Biscuit" and "Gravy" were sent back to the roost ... we sure have been a lucky family ...

So, Mister President, durin' this upcomin' Thanksgivin' season ... don't you think it's about time for some real "Change!?" ... let my people go! ... grant a presidential pardon to all of us turkeys!! ... and especially -- pardon me -- please?? ... gobble! - gobble! ... gobble! - gobble!! - gobble!!! ...

UPDATE: Tommy Turkey loses bid for last-minute Thanksgiving pardon - his cousins "Courage" and "Carolina" were mercifully selected instead - may Tommy baste in peace!

--sja

Leon Takes The Fall ...

Ol' Blue's hapless escapade in the story "Sloughfoot's Ghost" brings to memory yet another calamitous incident involving a canine, Luther DooLittle's own Redbone coonhound called "Leon" ... with Luther DooLittle's Redbone ... his Mama Mamie's white poodle known as "Minnie" ... and Grandpa DooLittle's Bluetick affectionately named "Blue" ... the DooLittle clan appeared to be one of the most patriotic families in the county ... anyhow, Luther borrowed his daddy's old Dodge pickup truck, reason being that he and Lamar Beefeater were going to haul a load of firewood to the Widow VanMeter's place on the other side of town, but in actuality the boys were going to transport 10 gallons of the widow's homemade "tonic," hide it in the root cellar behind Lamar's house ... then just sip on it occasionally ... so Luther boosted Leon up into the cab of the truck, then he climbed in, slid beneath the wheel, and off to Lamar's place they sped ... after picking up Lamar, the trio proceeded to the Widow VanMeter's house and acquired the tonic, then they headed back toward town -- sipping all the way!

Needless to say, by the time the boys made it back to the Beefeater's root cellar to hide what was left of their cargo, they were really feeling their oats -- and the affects of all that "greased lightning" they'd been drinking ... well Luther reckoned he should get back to the house forthwith with his daddy's truck, which was probably a good idea, in theory ... however, Luther's sense of time and space as it related to his position in the universe was playing tricks on him as he weaved back and forth up the road as fast and as hard as that tired Dodge truck would allow ... unfortunately, none of this went unnoticed by the Widow VanMeter's nephew, Sheriff Clarence A. VanMeter, who was hidden as usual behind a huge billboard at the edge of the highway which advertised Sunbeam enriched bread.

Now Clarence was a fairly proficient sheriff, as sheriffs go ... however, Clarence A. VanMeter was nearly as blind as a bat, and wore glasses with lenses as thick as the bottoms of glass Coke bottles ... consequently, Sheriff VanMeter was only able to determine that it was the DooLittle's rattletrap of a truck that had raced past him nearly peeling the big gold star from off the door of his police car, but he wasn't able to see who the driver was ... but Sheriff Clarence A. VanMeter was now officially in hot pursuit! ... now it was just getting dark, and Luther could see the flashing blue lights behind him in his rear view mirrors, and could hear the shrill siren's mournful cry ... the pursuer and the pursued both had their respective peddles to the metal, but the sheriff's big V8 was beginning to close the gap between he and Luther ... luckily, at that moment, Luther turned off the paved highway onto the dirt road leading home, leaving Sheriff VanMeter in a cloud of choking, thick dust ... Luther slid the overheating, straining Dodge through the gate and onto the DooLittle lawn ... then jumped out, slammed the door shut behind him and ran toward the house to hide.

All the while, poor Leon the Redbone coonhound had been lying on the floorboard of the truck scared nearly out of his wits ... when Luther bailed out, he had forgotten all about his closest friend and prized huntin' dog, now trapped inside the cab of the truck ... I think you already know the rest of the story ... but for those who may not ... after the dust had settled and the sheriff had regained his regular composure, along with a smidgen of sight, he flew up that road and skidded to a halt right up against the bumper of the previously fleeing suspect vehicle ... then quickly jumped out to effect an arrest ... by this time, Luther's daddy had interpreted what was taking place, and had already apprehended Luther by the back of the neck, angrily jostling the intoxicated, stumbling young man along in the direction of the sheriff's flashing blue lights ... just as proud father and wayward son approached Sheriff VanMeter, who was now standing just outside the cab of the truck, Luther's daddy heard the sheriff say ... "and boy, it's a doggone good thing you ain't been drinkin' like your twin brother there, else you wouldn't be gettin' off with just a speedin' ticket ... you'd be on your way to jail!"

--sja

Sloughfoot's Ghost! ...

Grandpa DooLittle often told frightening tales of a rogue black bear that had roamed the nearby countryside for the greater part of two decades ... a legendary and infamous creature affectionately known as "Sloughfoot" ... duly named for the elusive critter's propensity to prowl the thickets and bogs which bordered the entire length of a craggy trail which led from town all the way to the head of DooLittle Hollow, with sheer cliffs, towering spruce trees and moss covered boulders making up the landscape on the opposite side of the path ... anyhow, rumor had it that Sloughfoot would sleep for most of the day hidden in some secluded lair way back in the wetlands, then come out at night to forage for food which consisted of traveling salesmen, wayward children, drunkards, family pets, lost hikers, wild berries and fruit, or the contents of neighborhood garbage cans ... the most disconcerting thing about Sloughfoot's behavior was his tendency to silently stalk unwary wayfarers in the darkness as they traversed the hills and hollows, often following so closely behind these unsuspecting amblers that his warm, odoriferous breath could be felt against the backs of their necks ... hence, Ol' Sloughfoot had terrified more folks and been the inspiration for more vivid nightmares than even Lucifer himself ... although there were neither recollections nor confirmations that anybody had actually been harmed by the big Ursus americanus.

Luther DooLittle and his pal Lamar Beefeater were both definitely relieved when they heard the welcome news that Sloughfoot had been shot and killed by Luther's cousin Lester DooLittle during bear hunting season a couple years earlier ... although the bear's carcass had never been recovered as evidence, excuse being that it was too large and too far back in the bog for any reasonable recovery to be made ... at least that was the story being told, but you see, the DooLittle clan was known to manipulate the truth whenever it was to their advantage ... scores of hunters had come from miles around each year for the purpose of bagging Sloughfoot, only to return without as much as a sighting, so Lester DooLittle had become somewhat of a folk hero for ridding the community of this mangy, cantankerous menace of a beast ... and Sloughfoot hadn't been seen or heard from since reports of his alleged demise.

Well it was Halloween night, and Luther's daddy ordered Luther and Lamar to walk up to Grandpa & Grandma DooLittle's place to check on their well-being, and to make sure that none of the local hooligans had been causing the elderly couple any trouble ... they had lived in that ramshackle, little cabin in DooLittle Hollow for the past fifty years, with nobody to keep them company other than Grandpa's flea-bitten, old hound dog named Blue ... so up that miserable path trod Luther and Lamar, mindful of the days when Sloughfoot claimed that entire area as his domain ... the trek was uneventful, the boys found Grandpa and Grandma in a jovial mood and healthy as usual ... Grandma had been hanging the wash out to dry all afternoon, while Grandpa had nodded off and on for most of the day seated under an apple tree with Blue ... so after finding the DooLittles to be safe and sound, the boys each had a helping of Grandma's stuffed pumpkin with cranberry-raisin bread pudding and a huge chunk of homemade chocolate fudge, then set off toward home in the pitch-black darkness to report on their findings.

No sooner had the boys made it out of earshot of the DooLittle place, than they heard something sprinting down through the woods in the dry, fallen leaves toward them at a frenzied pace, huffing and puffing, snorting and snarling, popping it's jaws and breathing so hard it sounded like a roaring steam engine ... Lamar squinted his eyes in the darkness in an effort to see what it was coming toward them ... and there it was, a huge white form about the size of a young bull headed straight for them at full gait ... it had to be the ghost of ... SLOUGHFOOT!! ... Luther and Lamar raced down that path screaming like a couple of scalded chimpanzees, with whatever that thing was that was chasing them gaining on them at each footfall ... they hightailed it down that treacherous footpath in record time, Lamar leading by a nose for most of the way ... and more than once, Luther thought he felt something's hot breath and wet nose brushing against the back of his hand ... finally Luther's daddy's house came into view just as they thought they couldn't run another step further... in total exhaustion the boys landed on the front porch as Luther jerked open the door, and they came to rest up against the living room wall!

Luther's daddy was standing there arms folded in a state of immense dismay and perturbation, "What's wrong with you crazy boys?" he demanded! ... Luther breathlessly proclaimed that the ghost of Sloughfoot had chased them all the way down that dark and dreadful path from Grandpa DooLittle's house to the front door, and that Sloughfoot's wet nose had brushed against his hand more than once during the horrible pursuit ... then Lamar chimed in ... "Yes indeed Mr. DooLittle, it's true ... ol' Sloughfoot is standing out there on yer front porch right now a waitin' fer us ... look fer yerself!" ... Luther's daddy opened the door and peered out ... and there it stood ... he slowly closed the door, then turned and looked at the daffy pair lying there on the floor ... "Boys, I don't scare that easy ... now go take ol' Blue back up to your Grandpa before he misses him ... and take your Grandma's fresh washed bedspread off him too!"

--sja

Lamar Goes Green ...

I've often told of the many overtly hapless inventions of one extremely innovative young man by the name of Lamar Beefeater ... such as the time he and Luther DooLittle blew the roof clean off Henry Beefeater's corncrib ... consequently, Henry had sternly advised the boys that they would be responsible for the cost of material and labor for the repair and/or restoration of that entire roof, and demanded that work commence at once ... more pressing was the prerequisite that the job be completed within two days, or else ... it was "or else" that had Lamar and Luther more than a bit concerned for their immediate bodily safety and future well-being ... anyhow, those boys gave it their best shot, but by noon of the second day, realization that they were no where close to completing the job within the prescribed time frame began to simmer in their young minds ... along with desperation, which was nearly at the boiling point ... Lamar had to think of a way to speed things up and get that roof done, and fast ... if they just had one of those fancy pneumatic nail guns like real carpenters use, they just might be able to pull it off ... but they didn't have one of those fancy pneumatic nail guns ... so Lamar decided to invent one ... he went in the house and retrieved his daddy's prized Winchester Supreme Field double-barreled, over and under 12-gauge shotgun ... took two 3-inch magnum shells loaded with buckshot, pried open the ends of those shells and emptied out the buckshot onto the ground ... he then inserted those 2 shells still loaded with gunpowder into the chambers of that big shotgun and slammed it shut ... then he took a box of galvanized roofing nails and dumped the entire boxful down its cannon-sized barrels ... he then yelled up to Luther DooLittle, who was perched precariously at the top of a wooden extension ladder which was leaning against the edge of the roof ... "now hold that sheet of metal roofin' real steady while I nail'er in place" ... before Luther had time to declare any protestations, Lamar raised the old Winchester and squeezed both triggers ... I reckon you fellers don't need me to go any further with this story ... but I will say that it took the fire department and paramedics nearly an hour to pry ol' Luther off the side of that corncrib ... both boys would have been much better off had they simply settled for Henry Beefeater's "or else" ...

That brings me to this ... Lamar's latest brainstorm ... the windmill ... Lamar informed his daddy how he had been hearing all these discussions about global warming, destruction of the ozone layer and overall polluting of the environment worldwide ... so he had settled on the conclusion that he should do his part to help conserve our non-renewable natural resources, and produce sustainable free and clean energy, thus saving the planet from total and utter destruction ... Lamar Beefeater was going green! ... he had engineered a grand plan to construct a big windmill just adjacent to the barn for the purpose of producing enough energy to power all the lights and small electrical appliances in the entire neighborhood ... at first, Henry Beefeater had his doubts, but thought maybe his son just might be onto something positive and productive for a change, so he granted Lamar permission to proceed with the project ... and with the reluctant assistance of his friends Luther DooLittle and little Ansel Poteet, Lamar worked nearly day and night for 2 straight weeks before finally finishing the 30-foot-tall behemoth, and was now ready to reveal the contraption to anxious neighbors ... and to his daddy Henry ... so Lamar had everybody gather round his newly constructed apparatus while Henry Beefeater just stood there staring up at its huge green blades -- blades which were not moving ... then Henry asked ... "so Lamar, how much wind does it take before those blades turn enough to produce electricity?" ... with a wounded look on his weary face Lamar replied ... "what do you think I am, stupid? ... I've got that figured out too ... if the wind can't turn those blades, this will! ... just take a look inside the barn" ... as he proudly flung open the barn doors to reveal a 1000 gallon capacity diesel fuel storage tank, which he had painted green, and a 600 horsepower Caterpillar diesel engine, also painted green, with green wires and green gearboxes and green rods and green axles and green pulleys all of which were running out the side of the barn all the way and connected to ... the green windmill ... in his own unique way, Lamar had sincerely gone green! ...


--sja