Well – the radio is playing “Fijian Girl” and let’s see what develops here. Well, they have changed to “Two Little Boys” which reminds me of the time Old Man Tom Ott showed up at the quarter horse races with an eight year old paint stallion he called Johnny.
The old horse had never been raced so the bookies gave 100 to 1 odds on him. Old Tom promptly places his whole wad, more’n a thousand, on his stud. Which causes more’n some discussion. The thought of paying out more than a hundred grand on a horse nobody had a line on gave the bookies the jitters.
Come the start of the race Johnny was first out of the box and made it to the finish line about the time the pack was at the half way point. Naturally, the stewards and the bookies were mighty suspicious so they summon the owner to the offices for a conflab.
“You had this horse for eight years,” they wanted to know, “How come you never raced him before?”
“Well, to tell the truth,” sez Old Tom, sheepish like, “we couldn’t catch him until he was seven.”
He collected his money, too. Of course, Tom was another one of those old wolves you didn’t mess with too much. Yessir, that man was off the same bolt as Lane Cooter, Senior.
Although Lane Senior didn’t hold with gambling. Especially on horse races. He used to say there wasn’t a horse in the world that can go as fast as the money you bet on him.
Which is true. I heard a couple of guys in Omaha talking about the races at Ak-Sar-Ben.
“Did you have good luck at the races yesterday?” sez one.
“I sure did,” sez t’other. “I found a dime after the last race so I didn’t have to walk home.”
Of course, it depends a lot on your viewpoint. Elwyn Sproat used to swear he was down in the stables and he heard the horse that won the big stakes race bragging about it.
“And I not only won the race, I got two extra bales of hay. And brother, that ain’t money.”
If you have priced horse feed lately you know there is more truth than poetry to that statement!
Well – the ABC, Aussie Broadcasting, has changed to an interview. They are interviewing a Rupert Murdoch type moneybags
about how he made his fortune in opals.
“I nevah hesitate to give full credit to my wife for her invaluable assistance,” sez the mining magnate.
“You give your wife credit for your success?”
“Yes, I was curious to see if there was any income she cannot live beyond.”
I ‘spect that fellow would be easier in his mind if he’d been like Jimmy Ottar. Jimmy takes a gal for a ride, and asks her to marry him. And gets a laundry list of what the gal wants in a husband.
Jimmy takes it all in, turns his car around, and heads for her house. As he lets her out he sez “If I had all the qualities you want in a man I’d have proposed to someone else.”
Jimmy was pretty lucky, though. He was ready to get married so he proposed to Alice Townes the very next night. It was the shortest romance on record. He asked her “wilt though,” and she wilted.
Well, the radio is looking up! “The ladies of the harem of King Caractacus were just passing by.” If that won’t wake you up you might just as well mosey on down to funeral parlor and slide into a box.
Things were different back in King Caradoc’s, to give him his Anglicized name, time. Men were men and ladies were expected to be ladies. Nowadays women are expected to look like girls, think like men, work like dogs, and still behave like ladies.
Which, the behavior expected of ladies has also changed. But you can still find wives who spend two hours every night fixing their husband’s suppers. Some of the cans are tricky to open.
Of course, modern living is confusing. A friend of mine was puzzled the other day. He couldn’t tell whether his wife was coming or going. The only thing he knew was she had not been shopping. And wives aren’t the only family members that have changed.
A friend of mine was telling his college age son off for being just hard down lazy. “Son” he sez, “When I was your age I worked sixteen hours a day learning the machinists trade.”
“I’m very proud of you, Father,” sez the boy. “If it had not been for your ambition and perseverance, I might have had to do something like that myself!”
That boy’s grandfather just turned 88, and you talk about somebody being tighter than the paper on the wall! He was raising Cain about the price of groceries the other day. He insisted there is no reason at all to spend more’n ten bucks a week to feed a family. I remember those days, myself, but I do buy groceries occasionally.
“Can’t you persuade him,” his daughter in law asked his wife, “That he can’t take it with him?”
“Why, dear,” sez his wife, “I can’t even persuade him that someday he’s going.”
Geneology is all the rage these days. I knew an old boy that hired a private investigator to trace his ancestry. A few weeks later I asked him if he had heard from his private eye.
“He uncovered so much,” he sez, “That now I’m paying him hush money!”