Blind Mumbling

A compilation of writings that never got anyone excited.

Name:
Location: N. Huntingdon, Pennsylvania, United States

Former teacher, co-editor of Total Football and the author of more than 20 books and over 200 articles, most about sports history. His credits include Pro Football: When the Grass Was Real, The Hidden Game of Football (with John Thorn and Pete Palmer), Baseball Between the Lies, The Importance of Napoleon, and the Battle of Stalingrad. He is presently Executive Director of the Pro Football Researchers Association.

Monday, June 26, 2006

MY HELPER

(Submitted to PETA by Anonymous)

Few people realize the dependability and reliability of boa constrictors as working animals. My boa Slinky is a great help to me in my pig-raising business. Pigs are very intelligent, but they don’t always use their minds for worthwhile purposes. As a matter of fact, if you don’t keep an eye on them, they can make a real mess out of things.

Because of other commitments, I’m sometimes away and unable to keep an eye on the sty myself. Left to their own devices, those pesky pigs would quickly be off roaming hither and yon. On two occasions when I was out of town, I left Slinky in charge. The first time, he was new to the duty and one of the pigs escaped. We never did find her. Slinky felt so bad about losing that pig that he didn’t eat for a week. I really felt sorry for him.

The second time, I decided to give him a mentor, an animal to show him the way to keep watch. I brought in a small Irish Sheep Dog who I was assured had an excellent record. As it turned out, the dog was totally untrustworthy. When I returned the next day, he had run off to Lord knows where. Even though my pigs were none the worse for the dog’s dereliction, I could tell Slinky was unhappy with the way things turned out because he went several days before he ate again. My heart went out to him.

I am growing a bit concerned about Slink’s high sense of duty. His constant fasting when things don’t go perfectly could weaken him so that he might be unable to fight off a predator. I’ve assured him again and again that he is not to blame for the errors of other animals, but it’s hard to tell from the expression on his face or his hisses whether he agrees.

Tomorrow I’ll take my pigs off to the fair where I’ll exhibit them for several days and hopefully conclude a few sales. While I’m there, Slinky will stand guard over my empty sty against the vandals in the neighborhood. My wife has promised she’ll stop by in a couple of days to feed him.

Friday, June 09, 2006

AN APPEAL FOR HELP

Johnny M. was a happy little boy with a loving family, a dog named Glurge, and an Elektromatik-Football Game. One day Glurge got run over by a semi. Smashed him flatter than Aunt Ethel sang hymns.

Johnny tried to keep Glurge under his bed, but that left no place to keep his Elektromatik-Football Game. Besides, his mother kept getting fleas in her dustmop when she cleaned under Johnnny’s bed. She decreed Glurge had to go.

Johnny’s father took the flattened pooch to a little-used field to bury him. He took along the box from the Elektromatik-Football Game to serve as a coffin. The reason the field was little-used is that it had served for many years as an army firing range and there were still many unexploded shells lying around. Sure enough, when Johnny’s father dug in his shovel, he found one and blew up.

For weeks afterward, Johnny’s mother went out to the range to sift through the dust, hoping to find some of her husband’s missing pieces. She found a few chunks of the box for Johnny’s Elektromatik-Football Game but no sign of Johnny’s father. Unfortunately, an old prospector spotted her one day and thought she was panning for gold where he had staked a claim. He jumped on his burro and raced to her. He spurred the poor animal so enthusiastically that the prodded burro made no effort to stop when it reached her. Johnny’s mother was trampled into what didn’t turn out to be paydirt.

Johnny went to live with his Grandma, a religious woman. Johnny’s Grandma worked as a handy-grandma for her church and lived in a little building attached. She installed Johnny and his Elektromatik-Football Game in a sideroom set aside for unused statues. Johnny often accompanied her when she took the ancient church van and ran errands for the minister. One day, just after she had gassed up the church van, she lit a candle in memory of Johnny’s parents. Woosh!

While the medics were treating Johnny for smoke inhalation, it was discovered that he was suffering from a rare disease that was causing his ears to grow. Within a month of the discovery, his ears had become so huge and heavy that he had to put a crutch under his chin to hold his head upright. The only other known victim of this disease was a Nebraska boy who, by coincidence, also owned an Elektromatik-Football Game. He and Johnny exchanged condolences and even played an Elektromatik football game by mail.

Johnny’s Nebraska friend was always upbeat. He hoped to one day get a job with a circus. Sadly, on his tenth birthday, he broke into a little clown dance, stepped on his left ear, lost his balance, and fell out of the hospital window. Tragically, the hospital was the only multi-floor building in Nebraska. Johnny was brokenhearted that his friend would never be able to finish their Elektromatik-Football Game. Johnny was ahead by a field goal at the time.

As the days passed, Johnny became more and more depressed. Many days he just sat in a corner wrapped in his ears. Only a very, very expensive operation could cure him.

A very, very rich man who wishes to remain anonymous (his name rhymes with “Fates”) heard about Johnny’s illness. He has offered to pay for the operation but only if Johnny receives ten thousand e-mails at
www.johnnywithgreatbigears@aol.com . To prevent duplicates, all e-mailers should include their name, address, and social security number.

Won’t you help?

Friday, June 02, 2006

MORE MUMBLES

Dog owners should always carry pooper-scoopers so the rest of us won’t walk down the street and step in the Reverend Phelps.

I believe everyone should get a second chance. It’s your best shot to really rub their nose in how they screwed up the first time,

Marry in haste. You get to the honeymoon part quicker.

Better to light one little candle than to torch your business with a gallon of gasoline if you want to fool the arson cops.

That which does not kill us makes us stronge; that which does kill us doesn’t.

One man's meat is another man's veggieburger.

“What do you call a framework of parallel or latticed metal bars for blocking an opening, particularly in a stove, furnace, or fireplace?”
“That’s a grate question.”

On 3rd-and-4, our quarterback asked, “What would Jesus call?” Then he forgave the other team and was sacked for a nine-yard loss.

The difference between Niagara and Viagara is one falls and the other riises.

After she was mauled by a German shepherd, Cynthia stopped dating European sheepherders.