Neliganville

Happy Chinese New Year. We're taking a break to shoot off fireworks and run down the street with paper dragons.

2008-02-07T07:40:00.000-06:00

. . . actually, we are going to spend the next 15 days (the length of the Chinese New Year) retooling and refocusing the site with a week dedicated to actual home improvement thrown in there for good measure.

As a result, I won't be putting any new posts up for a couple of weeks.

Meanwhile, Sheriff Itchy is safe and sound. The talented and brave cast of the Case of Ken's Pecked Pompadour will renew their mystery and intrigue right where we left off when we return. Rest assured, they will not have to spend two weeks in the cold damp cave. They are going to take a little break, shower, go out for a nice dinner, see a movie, etc.

So bear with us, dear reader, while we do a little Neliganville touch up. The Sheriff and I look forward to seeing you after our renovation is complete.

Of course all you loyal readers who receive each day's wildly entertaining post via email will know we've started back up when our e-postman comes by.

Nothing today but thoughts and prayers for those affected by southern storms

2008-02-06T09:04:00.000-06:00

We were lucky last night in Neliganville.

Took shelter in the basement once with the family and Sheriff Itchy.

Note from Barb N: Sheriff Itchy hates storms, by the way. Not that he's afraid of them, because he's not. He just hates them.

Got up at midnight and two a.m. when tornado sirens cranked up, but all in all we came through unscathed and for that we are grateful.

As news of the damage came through it seemed so surrreal, and our thoughts and prayers go out to those who were harmed.

From AP's YouTube channel:

The mystery continues: Next photo puts our pistol-packing-opossum in a very bad mood

2008-02-05T09:18:00.000-06:00

My heart broke when I saw the photo of Sheriff Itchy's love interest, Ms. Verbena, getting off the train. The time stamp showed her leaving the boxcar just two minutes after the squirrel jumped (or got snatched) and, if Miriam was sending the photos in sequence, just seconds after the opossum waddled his way down the stairs.

I stood there trying to decide whether it would be best to acknowledge the situation and offer comfort to our three-legged law dog or to just leave him with his own thoughts. I was still trying to make up my mind when the message alert on Itchy's phone beeped again.

The opossum, the long thumb claw on his back leg curled around the sheriff's phone and his tone dripping with pure meanness, purred, "Goodness, what could this be? It will be hard for any photo to be more delicious than the one showing the lovely Ms. Verbena in those very questionable circumstances."

Itchy responded with a low, controlled growl and lifted his lips to show his canines.

The opossum leveled the gun the sheriff's head. "My but we're grumpy today. I suggest you simmer down sheriff."

The opossum pressed the button on Itchy's phone and the photo started to load. He held the phone high, did a little dance step and began humming the theme to Laverne and Shirley in a nasally, sing-songy voice.

We heard the beep indicating that the photo had loaded, but we could not see the screen. What we could see was the opossum's head snap up, then twist to look right then left then behind him. If you've never heard an opossum scream, it is bone-chilling. This one started in his belly and rose up through his throat. He lifted his rear leg, the one in which he held the phone with his opposable thumb. He cocked his elbow (or knee, I guess) like he was going to hurl the cell into the cold, dripping cave wall. Then just before he let it fly, that little switch of awareness reminding him of his time and place and present company must have flipped, and he stopped stone still.

For a moment he moved nothing but his eyes. He looked at the phone, he looked down at his body, he looked at us. Then he gave a little nervous laugh, exhaled sharply, and dropped the phone in the pocket of his fur.

"Well . . . (another little nervous laugh). I believe it's time for us to move on."

***

Just joining us? Need a refresher? Here's a recap of everything that's happened so far in the "Case of Ken's Pecked Pompadour: A Sheriff Itchy Mystery."

The mystery continues: Pistol-packing-opossum pens us in. Miriam sends next photo.

2008-02-04T09:52:00.000-06:00

As Sheriff Itchy listened to the opossum recount his overblown coffee order, he rolled his eyes and said, "Oh, for the love of God." Then he caught himself and turned to Mr. Jesus (the action figure) and said, "No offense."

"None taken," the Neoprene Nazarene replied.

"Enough with the chit chat," the opossum said. "Sheriff, Ms. Mayor, slowly set down your guns and put your hands in the air. Mr. Jesus (the action figure), please join your friends."

We all complied. Amazing how staring down the barrel of a gun simplifies your options. We stood side-by-side in front of the opening leading deep into the interior of the cave. A blast of frigid air punched me in the back just as the message alert beeped on Sheriff Itchy's phone. I just about jumped out of my skin.

Our pistol-packing-opossum pointed his gun at Itchy and sneered, "Don't even think about it, sheriff." He waddled over to Itchy and reached into his pocket with a rear leg. I took this as a direct attempt to insult our favorite three-legged lawman and, I have to tell you, it REALLY irritated me. My disdain must have flashed across my face because the opossum noticed and said, "Oh, relax, will you? We only have opposible thumbs on our back feet."

"Hmmph," I replied.

The opossum pulled the phone out of the sheriff's pocket and used the aforementioned opposible thumb to punch the buttons needed to open the message. He pulled back his lips in a wide smile, showing his pointy teeth and said, "Oh look, it's a photo from Miriam. Well, well, well, you'll be particularly interested in this sheriff."

The opossum held the phone up where we could see the photo.

I gasped.

Mr. Jesus (the action figure) said, "Oh, no."

Sheriff Itchy just stared at image, his face like a stone.

***

Just joining us? Need a refresher? Here's a recap of everything that's happened so far in the "Case of Ken's Pecked Pompadour: A Sheriff Itchy Mystery."

2008-02-02T08:39:00.000-06:00

Friday's fun fact. Things I learned on my trip Dinasour World

2008-02-01T09:50:00.000-06:00

When this big fella gave me the humongous heads up that I had just blown by my chance to peek into the paleontological past in Cave City, Kentucky, I turned that car right around.

Although the lady in the gift shop assured me that most days are very busy, I was lucky enough to have the place all to myself. I learned a few things as I strolled down a path in the woods and "walked among" the lifesize replicas of these ancient critters. For example:

Some dinasours had tiger stripes

And some were spotted

If you are a dinasour, you definitely want to stay on the good side of the person who writes your bio. He or she can get a little snippy and make you look like an idiot.

Living in a trailer and taking care of the dinasour park is a career option. I don't think it's as good as selling hand-crafted fishing lures out of the back of a pickup, but it's not a bad back up plan.

Eavesdropping: Cracker Barrel just south of Louisville, KY

2008-01-31T07:47:00.000-06:00

As I mentioned earlier I stopped at a Cracker Barrel just south of Louisville during my recent travels.

As I studied the Bit 'O Honeys and the Twizzlers on the back wall near the hostess stand, I heard a voice behind me say, "Ronelle, here's you another one of them dogs. You need to get that for Gordon for Valentine's Day."

Ronelle said, "Press the button on that puppy's paw," which her friend must have done because I heard tinny male voice launch into a rendition of I Got You Babe complete with synthesized soundtrack.

I turned around as the girl puppy joined in with her part.

"Look at that. It's a coon dog duet! I've never seen one that's a duet!" Ronelle clapped and laughed and said to her friend.

A small group of fellow Cracker Barrel gift shoppers gathered around and watched the dogs do their number. After the dogs hit the high note on their big finish, there was a spattering of applause.

The dogs powered off and were completely still again. That is always so weird when they just stop dead after they've been singing and dancing like a monkey's uncle.

The crowd returned to their retail browsing, and Ronelle said to her friend, "You know if I was going to use I Got You Babe, I would not have used coon dogs. I would have made Cher an Afghan Hound--one of those real tall pretty dogs with the long hair. And I would have made Sonny one of the little Shitszus with a black mop of fur on his forehead like he used to have. Now that woulda been real cute."

Ronelle's friend asked, "Does Gordon still have that one you got him for his birthday? The one dressed in the white silk jumpsuit like Elvis that sings, Hound Dog?"

"He brings it out when the grandkids come over. You know the little baby is walking now. He dances every time he hears that Elvis dog."

Note from Barb N to GPS: I know that you do show Cracker Barrels in the list of restaurants under your "attractions" view. I did not know it when we were together, but I know it now. Hope all is well.

The mystery continues: Annoying coffee snob opossum corners us in cave

2008-01-30T07:40:00.001-06:00

Although Mr. Jesus (the action figure) assured us he'd come to cave to help Ken, Sheriff Itchy kept his gun aimed at the 7.75 inch chest that had caused so much trouble. He held it steady while our missing friend's self-proclaimed-savior told us what he knew about the taunting call Ken received the night before his rampage and kidnapping.

"I begged the reporter to not compare my chest measurements to Ken's in the story. Begged her to just leave him out of it completely. I told her we have completely different target audiences. No need to rub it in the guy's face. She told me that Ken was the standard by which all male action figures are judged and that the toy business was a tough one and I'd better learn to keep my personal relationships out of it."

Jesus (the action figure) wept. "That reporter gave me her word that nothing in the story would be leaked. That I would have plenty of time to give him the heads up before the first edition came out in the morning. Like an idiot I believed her."

Sheriff Itchy said, "Now Mr. Jesus, (the action figure), don't be too quick to judge. The reporter may not be the culprit here."

"Whatever," the action figure said as he sank to the ground on his fully articulated knees. "It doesn't matter now. By the time I got through to him, he'd already gotten the call from the guy asking if the toy company was going to come out with a Jesus (the action figure) Can Kick Your A** Ken Doll. He'd already decided I betrayed him and he'd already started down the path to destruction."

"Was your interview with the reporter a phone interview?"

"No, we met at a Starbucks."

"When did you call Ken?"

"I called him on my way home, after I finished with the reporter."

Sheriff Itchy bore down. "Mr. Jesus (the action figure), I need for you to think very carefully. During your interview, did you happen to notice an opossum having a cup of coffee at a table near yours?"

A voice from behind Mr. Jesus (the action figure) said, "It wasn't just coffee. It was a triple venti latte, pumpkin spice. 4 pumps. Extra hot, prefererably 180 degrees. Caramel drizzled down the sides of the cup, but not poured into the drink, to be exact."

Then an opossum stepped into view at the cave entrance and put a period at the end of his description of his very annoying coffee order by pulling back the hammer on his gun.

***
Just joining us? Need a refresher? Here's a recap of everything that's happened so far in the "Case of Ken's Pecked Pompadour: A Sheriff Itchy Mystery."

Yes, I know we're in the middle of a mystery, but I need to talk with Sheriff Itchy about some personal stuff

2008-01-29T07:40:00.001-06:00

Yes, we're in a freezing cave and we don't know where Ken is. And yes, it's a pretty safe bet that his pompadour infection is getting worse. And yes, Mr. Jesus (the action figure) has just shown up. And yes, we know the opossums are up to something. And yes, we've already got one dead squirrel on our hands, but I just can't seem to let this GPS thing go.

So, I say, "Mr. Jesus (the action figure), will you hang on for one sec?" and turn so only the sheriff can hear me. "Itchy, I can't stop thinking about the GPS. It is just so frustrating. It should have worked. Am I crazy?"

Sheriff Itchy put his front paw on my shoulder and looked me square in the eye. "Ms. Mayor, you know I usually keep my opinion to myself, but since you asked, I'll tell you. No you're not crazy. You are an idiot."

He continued, "That GPS was totally wired into that car. Did you really believe that it would break that connection and go with you? Not a chance."

Funny how your mind only sees what you want it to see.

"Ms. Mayor, your I-Pod goes wherever you go. You have similar interests. You walk together. You travel well together. It helps you block out distractions while you are working. Plus, you seem to take for granted how interesting it is. You share books and music and movies. The battery is still strong on that relationship, not to mention the fact that you haven't even begun to max out the memory."

Sheriff Itchy wasn't telling me anything I didn't know, but I needed to hear it. He kept on.

"Yes, the GPS was something new, but it's one dimensional. I know you. Two weeks and you would have been bored out of your mind. Ms. Mayor, as your friend, I am telling you to put your focus back on what you have."

"Thanks, Sheriff Itchy."

"Your welcome. Now, let's get back to business shall we?"

"Absolutely."

Sheriff Itchy turned to Mr. Jesus (the action figure) and said, "Okay, Mr. Jesus (the action figure), tell me everything you know about the taunting call Ken got before the article came out in the paper."

***
Just joining us? Need a refresher? Here's a recap of everything that's happened so far in the "Case of Ken's Pecked Pompadour: A Sheriff Itchy Mystery."

Dear GPS, hope your travels are safe and happy

2008-01-28T08:00:00.000-06:00

The GPS is back at work at the rental car company this morning. I'm guessing its getting ready to go on the road with someone else. I have to be honest, I'm a little sad. I know we weren't right for each other, but in the beginning when it was good, it was great.

Listen, I know a lot of the blame for the relationship crashing falls to me. I learned a lot, and I think next time I'm travelling with a GPS, I'll know how to communicate a little better and avoid some of the wreckage we experienced.

Okay, I just have to say this one thing. The GPS portrays itself as being "NeverLost." That is just not realistic. No one can honestly promise to possess the skills needed to navigate the road of life without a false turn. Maybe that's part of where the trouble began. I like getting lost sometimes.

So that's the end of a crazy couple of days. We probably would have been okay if we had stuck to the simple business arrangement we started with, but the personal stuff just happened. Anyways, I wish the GPS all the best. We made no plans to try to stay in touch. We both felt it was best to make a clean break.

Back to listening to my I-Pod. The I-Pod and I've logged a lot of miles together and we do all right. Merle Haggard, the contemporary southern poet, captured it when he wrote, "No, it's not love, but it's not bad."

Todays guest blogger: GPS

2008-01-27T09:17:00.000-06:00

It just wouldn't be right for you to be left with only the mayor's version of the 578.58 miles we travelled together. With all due respect to the mayor, I feel you have been misdirected and I would like to take this opportunity to point the story back onto the highway of truth.

This is a straight ahead case of a relationship hitting a rough spot in the road because of expectations not being clearly communicated.

I am not the inflexible killjoy the mayor mapped me out to be. I am also not a mind reader. At the start of the trip home, I asked whether she wanted the route with the shortest time, shortest distance, or least use of interstates. She said she wanted shortest time.

Great. I took her at her word and moved ahead.

Well, then she changed her mind and wanted to meander. But did she let me know she wanted to adjust the route? She did not. Things took an ugly turn because I'm going along thinking we're in agreement and enjoying a shared goal while she is starting to get irritated and projecting feelings and attitudes onto me that are just not a part of my program.

For example, I didn't sigh. I never sigh. That is a clear attempt to mislead you. I did not say, "Whenever possible make a legal u-turn," because I think she always makes illegal u-turns. This was our first trip together. How would I know about her driving habits? I say that so drivers don't just cut across traffic the minute I tell them to make a u-turn. That would be irresponsible of me. The mayor seems to be under the impression that it's all about her and it's just not.

You know I like to explore local color as much as she does AND if she had just switched views on my monitor she would have discovered that I have a number of roadside attractions stored in my database--attractions she totally missed. Could have been fun if only she had taken the time to punch the right buttons.

But she did not. Instead, we spent a very frustrating 5 hours together and the mayor felt compelled to write a post yesterday designed to punch a different kind of button, and now, she's right, we're headed due south.

Honeymoon period over. Relationship with GPS goes south.

2008-01-26T10:49:00.000-06:00

Oh sure, it was great at the beginning. The GPS portrayed itself as being so helpful, so knowledgeable, so concerned that I reach my destination. I would think, "Hmmm . . . I wonder how far before I need to exit?" Not even say it outloud, just think it. And the GPS would answer my thought in a pleasant voice and say, "Prepare to exit right in 2 miles." It was magic. It was perfect.

My goal during the first half of the trip was to get to Indianapolis as quickly as possible. I left late, had an early morning meeting, and just wanted to get to my hotel and go to bed. Oh, how the GPS loved me in that glorious early phase.

As I headed back to Neliganville, though, it became clear that we were woefully mismatched. On the return trip I had time, and for me having time usually translates into wandering around, checking out the roadside oddities, seeing something shiny in the distance and following the path until I find it.

Well, didn't that bring out the bossy, inflexible side of the GPS?

First I get off the freeway to have lunch at the Cracker Barrel. Well, I'm no more than a hundred yards off the exit and the GPS starts with the passive aggressive talk. "Recalculating route." It says. I know it sounds innocent enough, but you wouldn't think that if you heard the tone of its voice. I swear that little update from our navigational nag started with a huge sigh. I know it only said, "Recalculating route," but it implied, "I've already calculated the route. I guess I'll just recalculate it. I'll guess I'll just do extra work because you always have to to go wandering around."

Whatever. I blew it off and didn't say anything. Then when I was leaving the Cracker Barrel I saw this very blogworthy mailbox and turned the car in a direction away from where the GPS thought I should be going so I could get a better photo. Oh, then it really started. "When possible make a legal u-turn."

Oh, snap! You don't have to peel back the shell on that one too far to uncover the unspoken sentence, "Don't make an illegal u-turn. You always make illegal u-turns."

And that was the beginning of the end of the affair. It's okay though. We can travel together when the goal is to get from point a to point b as quickly as possible. I think we'll remain friends but we'll never do any unplanned wandering together.

Friday's fun fact: Baby, it's cold outside . . .

2008-01-25T06:12:00.001-06:00

. . . in Indianapolis, which is where I am at the moment.

Right now it's 6 degrees and, according to weather.com, feels like negative 7. Yes, that's negative 7 and, yes, I agree with that assessment.

Here's another fun fact from the road. I've always scoffed at people who use GPS systems--too dependent on technology, turning into robots, losing their ability to function, blah, blah, blah. Well, my rental car has one and I stand here before you and everyone and say, "I was wrong." They are a big stress reliever if you're not familiar with the area in which you are driving.

Note from Barb N: And actually, I'm not standing before you or anyone else for that matter. I'm sitting in front of my computer, facing guess what? A big a** mirror on the wall behind the desk. Why do they do that? I don't know why they do that. No one looks good after a long drive in that lighting. Particularly in this arctic weather. Does my skin look dry? I think my skin looks dry.

And the final fun fact for this Friday: If you are listening to the biography of Mark Twain as you drive across the big river, you will a) feel like you are in a movie, and b) fantasize about leaving it all behind and being a riverboat pilot.

Note from Barb N: Actually, if you're like me, you'll only fantasize about being a riverboat pilot for a few minutes until you remember that you really don't much care for sleeping anywhere except your own bed. Plus, there just aren't that many riverboats these days, at least real ones. Railroads squeezed them out. It's all in that Mark Twain book.

The mystery continues: Mr. Jesus (the action figure) tells us he's here to help

2008-01-24T08:42:00.000-06:00

Sheriff Itchy�??s gun was out of its holster and pointed at Mr. Jesus (the action figure�??s) head before the Neoprene Nazarene knew what happened.

Mr. Jesus (the action figure), held his hands up with palms facing out, which was a very natural look for him.

�??Sheriff, please don�??t shoot. I came here to help.�??
The three-legged law man stared down the barrel of his revolver at the plastic plaything with a glare more steely than the polish on his gun. �??What have you and your gang of opossums done with Ken and GI Joe?�??

�??My gang of opossums? Oh, no, no, no. you've got it all wrong!�??

�??So it�??s coincidence that you rolled into town the day before Ken and Joe were kidnapped?�??

�??No it�??s not coincidence! I knew Ken was in trouble and I came to help."

"I don't believe you." Sheriff Itchy shot the words back at the action figure like they were bullets.

"Sheriff, you have to believe me! Look, I knew the reporter was going to make a big deal about the fact that my chest circumference was bigger than Ken's. I called him to explain before the paper even came out, but I was too late."

"What do you mean you were too late?" Sheriff Itchy asked.

"Apparently news had leaked, and someone had already left him a voice mail taunting him and asking if they were going to come out with a Jesus (the action figure) Can Kick Your A** Ken Doll."

"I can see where that would get under his skin," I said.

"Well, we don't really have skin, but it definitely was a thorn in the guy's plastic. He just lost it. I couldn't calm him down. I told him, �??Ken, dude, I�??m a talking action figure. They had to make my chest big because that�??s where the bible verses are stored. He wasn't listening. You know how he gets. He hung up on me. I knew he'd come here to blow off steam. I was very worried about what he was going to do so I hopped on the next train to Neliganville to find him.�??

***
Just joining us? Need a refresher? Here's a recap of everything that's happened so far in the "Case of Ken's Pecked Pompadour: A Sheriff Itchy Mystery."

Coffee shop commentary: Okay, now that was funny.

2008-01-23T09:31:00.000-06:00

"Hey Dodie, read me the part about Mac's momma again."

Dodie Gill looked at his noteboook computer and read from the CNN website,

"John McCain on Monday dismissed concerns about his age raised by action-film star Chuck Norris, former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee's most famous backer."

"Not that part, Dodie! Read that part," Grainger Dibbs said poking Dodie's computer screen with his finger. "The funny part!"

"Gosh darnit, Mr. Impatient Britches, you're gettin' syrup all over the screen. Now if you'll just back off a little, I'll read the rest." Dodie cleared his throat,

"McCain sighed theatrically when asked about that remark Monday. 'I'm afraid I may have to send my 95-year-old mother and wash Chuck's mouth out with soap,' he said."

Grainger slapped his knee. "Woowheee! Now that's funny! Hey, you think they'll ask Fred to be VP?"

"Naw, too grumpy."

"Lord, Dodie, you're thick. If grumpy was a deal breaker, rootin,' shootin,' underground-bunker Dick Cheney wouldn't have lasted for the last eight years."

"Hey, has anybody seen that guy lately?"

"Saw him on tv behind George when he was talking about how our economy is tanking. He looked really, really old."

"Older than John McCain?"

"Older than John McCain's mother."

Dodie and Grainger fell off their counter stools laughing.

The mystery continues: Sheriff Itchy and I go into cave

2008-01-22T09:16:00.001-06:00

Sheriff Itchy and I stood next to the Peak Performance, Inc. sign at the entrance of the cave by the river.

"Sheriff, did you go into the cave when you visited the opossums here before?" I asked.

"Naw," he told me. "When I walked up, they met me right here and never asked me in. I came down on nothing more than a hunch that something wasn't right so I didn't have a warrant. This is as far as I got." Then he said, "I still don't have a warrant, but I've got a lot more than a hunch that something isn't right. Do you still have the gun I gave you?"

"I do."

"Get that in a spot where it's real handy and let's see what our Peak Performance, Inc. opossums are cooking up inside this cave."

"Got it," I whispered pulling the gun out of my bag. Sheriff Itchy dropped to all threes and went through the stone door. I crouched and followed.

We stepped through the entrance into an area about the size of the big booth at the Neliganville diner. (For those of you who've never been to the diner, the big booth is one of those round ones in the corner that will seat eight.)

Itchy pulled out his flashlight and turned it on. I shivered and cussed under my breath. The walls were dotted with cave crickets--those spindly-legged, speckled monsters. If you've never seen one, you'll just have to take my word for the fact that they are creepy. Or you can click here, but no way I'm going to post a photo because new visitors to Neliganville would be grossed out and never read the story.

Anyways, I wanted to swallow hard, but I didn't for fear I'd swallow some icky cave cricket essence. (You know how you do in a situation like that.) I did my best to calm my nerves by focusing on my breathing.

Itchy swung the beam of the flashlight to an opening that led deeper into the cave and headed toward it. I cussed under my breath again and got behind him. When we got to the opening, a blast of arctic air hit me so hard I felt like I'd fallen through a thin spot in the ice in a northern Indiana pond.

"What in the Sam Hill!?" I hissed, not even trying to keep my cussing under my breath, which I was having a hard time catching anyway. "I've never been in a cave this cold!"

"That's because there are no other caves this cold," Sheriff Itchy said shining his light into the opening. "It's not natural."

"Well, I'm just about to darn freeze to death!" I told him.

A voice from behind us said, "That's not exactly the point, but it's close."

Itchy and I turned around.

"Jesus!" I said.

"Mr. Jesus, the action figure," to be precise.

Chuck Norris claims John McCain will age 12 years in the next 4 if elected president

2008-01-21T09:33:00.000-06:00

"If John takes over the presidency at 72 and he ages 3-to-1, how old will he be in four years? Eighty-four years old--and can he handle that kind of pressure in that job?" Norris said, as Huckabee looked on.

When I read this quote on CNN from American icon, Walker Texas Ranger, I thought it was pretty weird so I decided to check with Professor Sage. Not only is Professor Sage Neliganville's leading expert on all things political, she is is also a dog. She actually does age seven years for every one that humans do, and as such, is uniquely qualified to talk about this issue. I stopped by her office.

Me: Professor Sage, I've heard that the presidency accelerates the aging process, but I've never heard it quantified as a 3 to 1 ratio. Is there any scientific basis for that claim?

Professor: No, I think Chuck Norris just made that up. Put it in context, though, Huckabee discounts the theory of evolution and adheres to the theory of creationism. The definition of a year is pretty fluid with that group.

Me: Professor, Mike's main frontman is a washed up action star that now peddles exercise equipment on late-night tv. Does that seem helpful to you?

Professor: It's very helpful in appealling to the squirrel fryin', grits eatin', confederate flag flyin' base he is trying to reach. The question is how big is that base?

Me: Well, I know one thing, Chuck Norris is no Oprah Winfrey.

Professor: Ummm . . . Ms. Mayor, that's kind of the point.

Me: I'm going for a walk now.

I do a little checking. It wasn't the squirrels that beat Mike Awshucksabee in SC

2008-01-19T10:42:00.001-06:00

I laid in bed last night unable to sleep. I kept up with the news all day and I heard nothing about a possible plot by the squirrels to take out the SC transformers and, in doing so, sabotage Mike Awshucksabee's chances in the primary.

So, if there was nothing on the news, how did Thelonius know about it? It didn't make sense. I love the T. Rat, but he's not as well connected as he would lead you to believe and I just couldn't imagine how he became aware of the plot before the media.

So I began to wonder if the South Carolina law enforcement agencies actually did receive a tip a about transformer sabotage. Sheriff Itchy has a cousin down there--Detective Dashberry--that I'm pretty close to. Close enough to pick up the phone and ask. So that's what I did.

Me: Detective Dashberry, it's your good friend the mayor from Neliganville.

DD: Well isn't this odd? I was just getting ready to dial your number.

Me: That is odd. Why in the world were you calling me?

DD: Well, we received an anonymous tip yesterday about a possible squirrel attack on some transformers here. The tipster believed the attack was designed to keep Mike Huckabee from winning the primary.

Me: That's why I was calling you. Detective, was any information about that plot leaked to the media? Did anyone know about it outside of your agencies?

DD: No one Ms. Mayor. We kept a tight lid on it.

Me: Well then that is odd. Thelonious told me about it yesterday morning.

DD: Well, that's why I was calling YOU. The anonymous tip came from a phone in Neliganville.

Me: Oh, for heaven's sakes! Detective, I think the tip came from Thelonious. Sorry he bothered you. I think it's just a part of a negative campaign he is waging against the squirrels.

DD: Really appreciate the information. That will be very helpful in the future.

Me: So it wasn't the squirrels that cost Mike Awshucksabee the win in SC?

DD: No, actually, it was Fred Thompson. Looks like a lot of voters in those very conservative counties went for the Fred rather than the Huck, and that gave McCain the win.

Me: Dectective Dashberry, speaking of plots, do you think there is any chance that the Republicans supported a big play for Fred in SC to just take votes away from Mike Awshucksabee to secure the win for John? Do you think they are that organized?

DD: Hmmmm . . . interesting thought, Ms. Mayor. Interesting thought. So you're saying maybe Fred, who's pretty much phoned in his campaign so far, really had one task, to win SC for John McCain?

Me: I'm just wondering.

DD: Ms. Mayor, I've learned one thing, in politics anything is possible.

Me: I guess so, detective. I guess so. Glad everything went smoothly yesterday.

DD: Thank you. I'm glad it's over. Kind of like a ghost town around here this morning.

Me: Well, I hope you get a chance to relax. Detective, one more thing. You've lived in South Carolina your whole life. Have you ever or do you know anyone who has ever fried squirrel in a popcorn popper?

DD: No, Ms. Mayor, that was a little bit of a stretch on the Mike Awshucksabee's part. Not the way most South Carolinians like to be portrayed.

Me: I guess not. Well, thanks so much.

DD: Thank you.

We said goodbye and hung up. That Thelonious. What a mess.

Mr. Rat tells me law enforcement agencies tipped off about possible plot to sabatoge today's South Carolina primary

2008-01-19T10:34:00.000-06:00

When Thelonious T. Rat's number came up on my caller ID this morning, I sighed. Given his general grumpiness over the past couple of weeks, I didn't figure he was calling to talk about what a beautiful day it is. I picked up the phone and said hello.

TTR: Good morning, Ms. Mayor. Have you heard the news!

Me: What news is that?

TTR: The news about how South Carolina law enforcement agencies received a tip about a plot to sabatoge to transformers in major voting areas. A plot that would bring down the electronic voting machines and derail the primary.

Me: I had not heard that.

TTR: Well, it seems pretty obvious to me what's going on here! The suicide squirrels are trying to prevent Mike Huckabee from winning. They are going to crawl into the transformers and blow the power. I am telling you, Ms. Mayor, you need to be cautious about getting too chummy with them. They are domestic terrorists! You know how they do!

Me: Thelonious, first of all, I don't believe you. Second of all, if Mike Awshucksabee had fried your grandaddy up in a popcorn popper, you might not be so excited about the prospect of him being elected president either. Third, there hasn't been any news about this. How did you hear about it?

TTR: That's not important. What is important is I feel it is my civic duty to warn you of this threat. I think you should invest in extra security for the Neliganville transformers between now and the Tennessee primary on Super Tuesday.

Me: I will take that under consideration Thelonious. Is there anything else?

TTR: Just be careful, Ms. Mayor. Be careful. And remember, I've got your back.

Me: Much appreciated, Thelonious. Thank you for calling.

I hung up. That Thelonious. What a mess.

Friday's fun fact. Despite what Huckabee says, not all southerners eat squirrels

2008-01-18T08:36:00.000-06:00

Was he kidding? Seriously, he had to be kidding. Someone PLEASE tell me he was kidding.

The story that Mike Huckabee told an MSNBC reporter that he can totally relate to the good people of South Carolina because he knows all about frying up and eating him some squirrels is showing up on a number of sites. Here's the one from Raw Story.

Huckabee spoke to MSNBC's Joe Scarborough from Columbia, SC, saying enthusiastically, "South Carolina's a great place for me. I mean, I know how to eat grits and speak the language. We even know how to talk about eating fried squirrel and stuff like that, so we're on the same wavelength."

So, to recap, if you want to speak "the language" of the South you need to talk about fryin' you up some squirrel meat and smotherin' and coverin' some of them there grits. That's new. That's fresh. No one's done that before. That's not pandering.

So here's today's fun fact. I was born in Tennessee and have spent most of my life here. I did not and I have never known anyone who fried squirrels in popcorn poppers in college.

I can't stand it. I CANNOT stand it.

The mystery continues. More photos. Sheriff Itchy and I ponder who or what did not want the squirrel to get on that train.

2008-01-17T09:55:00.000-06:00

Sheriff Itchy and I studied the photo Miriam had just sent us.

"What do you think spooked that squirrel and made him jump off the stairs like that?" I asked the three-legged law dog.

"We don't know that anything spooked the squirrel."

"That squirrel is three feet up in the air!"

"Exactly," Sheriff Itchy said.

Sometimes the silent part of the sheriff's strong, silent type personality makes it awfully hard to figure out what he thinks about a situation and, I have to be honest, I was not following him. So I said,

"Sheriff Itchy, I'm not following you."

"It's possible something snatched the squirrel."

"Phht!" I phhted, signalling my disbelief. "I think if a helicopter had come in and grabbed him, things would be blowing around like crazy in the photo. They are not blowing."

"I'm not thinking helicopter blades, Ms. Mayor. I'm thinking wings."

"Oooooooohhhhh. So the pigeon grabbed him."

"Might be the pigeon. Might be the vulture. We don't know."

"Why would the pigeon OR the vulture want to hurt the squirrel?"

"Ms. Mayor, you sure do make a lot of assumptions," Sheriff Itchy sighed. "We don't know if the squirrel was snatched and, if it was, what the snatcher's intentions were. All we know is that either the squirrel or something that could fly decided that it was very important that the squirrel not get on that train."

The message alert on the sheriff's phone beeped, the next photo came through, and we looked at it.

"Well that doesn't' tell us anything" I said.

Another beep. "Maybe this one will," Sheriff Itchy opened the message.

"Hmmm," the sheriff said. "Looks like the squirrel's not the only one who decided to get off that train right before it pulled out."

***
Just joining us or needing a refresher? Here's a recap of what's happened so far in the Sheriff Itchy mystery.

Sheriff Itchy mystery. Here's what's happened so far.

2008-01-17T09:14:00.000-06:00

Squirrel is victim of hit and run

One day, while I was working on my Lego model of the Parthenon, a squirrel lost his or her life in what appeared to be a hit and run accident in front of my house. In reporting to you how a huge vulture quickly disposed of the evidence, I confused the terms "vulture" and "buzzard." This snowballed into a series of inadvertent gaffes resulting in the Grand Potentate of the Vulture Club, Miss Fish, a pack of hyenas and Mr. Pigeon all giving me a piece of their mind. Mr. Pigeon, initially critical of my Lego rendering of the Parthenon, stayed to help me with the proportions. Sheriff Itchy, on his way down to the river to check on some suspicious opossum activity, stopped by to ask me about the unusual traffic pattern at my door.

News report that Jesus, the Action Figure, is more buff than Ken sends Ken into tailspin

The Tennessean did a feature article on the Jesus Action Figure doll, in which the reporter highlighted the fact that Mr. Jesus, the Action Figure's, chest is "1.75 inches thicker than Barbie's ex-boyfriend Ken."

Oh, boy. Ken has family in Neliganville and comes here when he needs to blow off some steam. As soon as Sheriff Itchy and I saw the article about Ken's chest circumference being surpassed by Mr. Jesus, the Action Figure's, we knew he would go off.

Sure enough, shortly after the bars closed in Neliganville the next morning, Sheriff Itchy picked up Disturbing the Peace Ken downtown. He had not committed a crime yet, but Sheriff Itchy brought him to my house for a cooling off period as a precaution.

After Ken destroys Lego model of the Parthenon. Mr. Pigeon threatens to "peck the pompadour off his plastic head."

Ken didn't cool off. Instead he went on a rampage and used my miniature Louisville Slugger to wipe out my Lego model of the Parthenon. He ranted the whole time about how, "The only way Mr. Jesus the Action Figure could have changed his body type so drastically after 2000 years was through steroid use."

I was SO mad I couldn't see straight so I went for a walk. When I got back, Ken was gone. Sheriff Itchy came over to evaluate the scene. While he was there Mr. Pigeon, my Lego Parthenon model consultant, flew in and found all our hard work in pieces on the card table. Mr. Pigeon took that VERY personally and threatened to peck the pompadour off Ken's head.

Sheriff Itchy and I find Mr. Pigeon standing over a pompadour-pecked Ken

Itchy and I went to Ken's room and discovered that he had taken his cowboy boots and vest with him when he left--a sure sign that he went looking for a fight. We found a business card for Peak Performance, Inc. with a logo of an opossum playing opossum among the loose change and breath mints on Ken's dresser. It matched a card Itchy picked up when he went to check out the suspicious activity down by the river.

We went to the river, but we were too late. We found Ken with his pompadour already pecked and Mr. Pigeon standing over him.

Sheriff Itchy gave me his revolver and took Mr. Pigeon to jail.

While I waited for the ambulance to arrive, Ken gave me a camera and a small pigeon gave me a packet of powder that he said Mr. Pigeon, my Lego Parthenon model consultant, dropped.

Mr. Jesus the Action Figure arrives on afternoon train while Ken is in surgery

Sheriff Itchy came by the hospital while Ken was still in surgery. I gave him the camera Ken gave me. I did not tell him about the white powder the little bird said Mr. Pigeon dropped.

Sheriff Itchy's people spotted Mr. Jesus, the Action Figure, getting off the afternoon train. As we were leaving the hospital to pay Mr. Jesus, the Action Figure, a friendly visit, we spotted a medium-sized, furry animal scurrying down the hall. We didn't like that one little bit, so the sheriff called on GI Joe to guard Ken.

When we got to the Lincoln Log Lodge where Mr. Jesus, the Action Figure, was staying, he was already gone. However, Itchy's love interest, Miss Verbena, slipped the sheriff a letter that Mr. Jesus, the Action Figure, dropped in the hotel bar the night before. In the letter, Action-Packed Toys, Incorporated told Mr. Jesus, the Action Figure, they were cancelling his contract before heading into the Christmas retail season.

Ken develops pompadour infection, is then kidnapped along with GI Joe

We called GI Joe to check in and he told us Ken had developed a pompadour infection. Then we heard the sound of something hard on plastic and the phone went dead. We raced to the hospital, narrowly missing hitting an opossum darting across the road carrying a suitcase. At that moment, a vulture flew overhead.

When we arrived at the hospital, we found a breath mint and a packet of white powder (like the one the little pigeon gave me) in Ken's bed. Ken and GI Joe were gone.

An interview with the on-duty staff, Nurse Trundle and Nurse Bed, revealed that no one except GI Joe and Neliganville General staff had visited Ken. but that the Naugahyde chair in his room had been moved.

Sheriff Itchy asked Nurse Trundle if they had an opossum on staff. She told him they had one--Peter Opossum, the anesthesiologist. Nurse Trundle saw him go into Ken's room earlier. When Nurse Trundle tried to find the opossum so the Sheriff could talk with him, we discovered that he turned in his resignation, cleaned out his locker and left at about the time Ken and GI Joe were kidnapped.

CSI Miriam identifies packet of powder on bed

Miriam, the CSI, told us the powder on the bed was Perlite and that she found the same powder when she processed the camera Ken gave me before the ambulance came. I know Perlite is used in gardening. Miriam explained it is also used as insulation--holds up really well in extremely cold temperatures.

Then a member of Miriam's CSI staff discovered an 18.9 inch square of Naugahyde cut out of the back of the moved chair. The sheriff asked me how tall Ken is. "12.9 inches," I answered, but don't know why it is important.

Mr. Jesus, the Action Figure (who recently lost his contract and presumably his source of income) is seen driving new Ferrari

Sheriff Itchy and I raced to the car and were flying down the river road when Miss Verbena called to tell the sheriff that Mr. Jesus, the Action Figure, just left the hotel driving a brand new Ferrari and wearing hiking boots.

Sheriff Itchy and I find Peak Performance, Inc. headquarters and photos from Ken's camera reveal train trouble

Sheriff Itchy and I went down to the river and found the cave in which the opossums set up the Peak Performance, Inc. headquarters.

Miriam, Neliganville's head CSI, begins sending photos from camera Ken gave me right after his pompadour got pecked. They reveal:

The squirrel was getting on the train.

And then he wasn't.

Latest photo reveals that squirrel is not the only one who didn't leave town on train. Sheriff Itchy and I go into cave. Mr. Jesus (the action figure) is right behind us.

The sheriff and I stood outside the cave wondering did the squirrel jump? Was he (or she) grabbed from above and, if so, was the grabber's intent to hurt or help the squirrel? Then Miriam sent a photo showing an opossum getting off the train right before it pulled away from the station.

We crept into the cave and discovered some unnaturally cold air coming from a tunnel. Then Mr. Jesus (the action figure) came up behind us and just about scared us to death.

Based on the circumstantial evidence leading up to that point, I'd assumed that Mr. Jesus (the action figure) was in cahoots with the opossums, but he told us he was there to help. He said Crazy Bar Hoppin' Ken called him the night after the article came out. The next morning a worried Mr. Jesus (the action figure) took the train into town to help Ken.

Pistol Packing Opossum pens us to the cave wall and Miriam sends more photos

Itchy questions Mr. Jesus (the action figure) and discovers that he met the reporter at a Starbucks and that an opossum sat at the table next to them, possibly eavesdropping.

Then an opossum sneaks up on us in the cave and has us penned in when Miriam sends a photo showing Itchy's love interest Verbena getting off the train.

And that's where we left it.

In related news

A man is arrested in Nashville for beating up his girlfriend's pig.

Naugahyde can be used to build a "portable, lightweight and reasonably inexpensive" tank in which you can pack a human body in ice. Very useful when you are trying to lower the patient's body temperature as rapidly as possible in order to protect the brain" for cryonic suspension.

All politics aside

2008-01-16T10:03:00.001-06:00

Seriously, fellas, take a nap, go for a walk, do yoga, WHATEVER IT TAKES to lighten up your sourpuss selves. I understand you are running for the highest office in the United States. We ALL understand the gravity of the situation, but you don't have to be all snippy about it.

A conversation with Thelonious T. Rat, in which he goes negative on the squirrels

2008-01-15T09:29:00.000-06:00

I got a call early this morning from Thelonious. It was not unexpected. Given the fact that our guest bloggers seem to be using this forum to attack one another, I figured it was only a matter of time before he appealed to me directly. I wish I could just get them to stick to the issues and not go negative on one another, but it's like they just can't help themselves. Odd.

Anyway, here is a transcript of my conversation with Thelonious T. Rat.

Phone rings

Me: Hello.

TTR: Ms. Mayor, it's Thelonious.

Me: Well, hello Thelonious. To what do I owe this unexpected
surprise?

TTR: Oh, no real reason for my call . . . just checking in . . . wanted to say hi . . . haven't talked with you in a while . . . touching base . . . reconnecting . . . wanting to make make sure there haven't been any power outages in Neliganville.

Me: What? Power outages? Why no, Thelonious. There have been no power outages. The weather's gotten a little cold, but no storms, snow, or ice. Why would we would have power outages?

TTR: Oh, no real reason. I know you have real open door policy toward squirrels (Who do not have a place in the Chinese Zodiac) in our fair city, and just doing a little online research about them. Did you know there is quite a bit of information out there about how those cunning little devils are responsible for many of the power outages in the United States?

Me: First of all, let's not stoop to name calling like "cunning little devil," and secondly . . .

TTR: Yep. according to Wikipedia, took down Nasdaq twice. USA today did a whole article about how these fuzzy little Einsteins . . .

Me: Thelonious, stop with the name-calling!

TTR: What? I can't call someone an Einstein? Einstein is not pejorative. Einstein was a genius. Everyone knows that. I think you're being a little oversensitive. Anyway, USA today did a whole article entitled, "Suicide squirrels driving utilities nuts" about how, these "rascally little varmits" (their term, not mine) are always going into transformers looking for acorns. Then they step the wrong way and, according to a utilities guy, "That completes the circuit and bammo!" That's the night the lights go out in Georgia . . . or Nebraska . . . or Oklahoma . . . or NELIGANVILLE!

Me: I've read that article. It portrays the squirrels as being pretty darn smart. It says "these guys are awfully clever." It also quotes a utility company representative as saying, "Whenever we think we've got them figured out, they try something else."

TTR: Ummm . . . no offense, Ms. Mayor, but how smart can you be if you spend all your time trying to figure out how to get an acorn out of something that has a bazillion volts of electricity running through it?

Me: Bazillion is not a real number.

TTR: Did you read the part about how, "Hundreds of gallons of raw sewage poured into Mobile Bay in Alabama after a squirrel cut power to a sewage lift station there."

Me: What in the world is a "sewage lift station?"

TTR: I don't know, but they cut power to it. Do you think they are spies or terrorists?

Me: Thelonious, I'm hanging up now.

TTR: Well, I just felt like it was my civic duty as a citizen to alert you to the fact that your friends may not be what they seem to be and potentially help you avoid a citywide disaster.

Me: Gooddbye, Thelonious.

TTR: Goodbye. I'll keep you posted if I get any new information.

Me: I'm sure you will.

Then I hung up.

Guest Blogger: A squirrel from our yard who read yesterday's blog

2008-01-14T04:52:00.000-06:00

Well, Mr. Rat certainly has his little hairless tail in a knot, doesn't he?

Just curious. Have any of you ever heard of the squirrel park the Chinese built because they just like us so darn much? Yes, that would be 1.33 hectares (which if I've done my math right, is a little over 3 acres) dedicated to creating a space where squirrels and people can enjoy some quality time together.

Funny, though. I've looked and looked and they do not appear to have built a rat park. Hmmmm . . . I guess the Chinese like to be around squirrels in the here and now and keep their rats off in a mythological world where they don't actually have to see them or talk to them.

I'm not trying to draw any conclusions or cast any aspersions. I'm just saying.