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Humor April 2018

Strictly Humor

Dear Witbones

By B. Elwin Sherman

Stop buying groceries and remove your car battery. Start a naked tuba and bagpipes band and have nightly rehearsals at your house. Fake a few heart attacks. Start talking to dead people at meals.

Dear Witbones:

I'm a senior living alone, and confined to a wheelchair. No complaints there, but I have two other nagging problems:

1 I need to find a way to dog hair-proof the wheels. Eventually, it wraps around the axles so badly that it slows me down.

2. Worse, because of my rolling hairball, when I'm out and about in public, dogs will follow me, and sometimes come over and "mark their territory," if you know what I mean. Later, when I get home, my dog goes nuts over the smell, and he does the same thing! He's long been house-trained, but dogs will be dogs. What can I do?

                                                                                              — Doggie Don’ts in Dover

Dear Doggie:

Whenever I’m flummoxed by a submission like yours, I turn my fieldwork to the home of our collective lowest common denominators. Google. I asked: "How do I remove dog hair from wheelchair wheels?" and I found a chat room with the following answers:

"I use drain cleaner and a hacksaw."

"Try a cigarette lighter, CAREFULLY, and it works fine if you don't mind the smell of burning dog hair." The next comment took that a step further:

“Have you tried a blow torch?"

Lastly, my favorite: "A very high-powered vacuum should do it."

I can't help you much with the doggy urine smell problem, though I did find (again, using my crackerjack research skills) that you could try an application of tea tree and bergamot oils. I don't know if it works or not, but someone on the internet said it did, and because they took the time to write-in about it on a public forum, I'm giving it both a thumbs and paws up. Maybe you should, too.

Thanks for Witboning, and please keep me posted.

 

Dear Witbones:

I am about to be a remarried woman heading into my late middle-aged years. When I tell my friends and colleagues that they’ll need to update their address books with my new last name, I am often asked (and rather aggressively, too): "WHY will you change your name?! You don’t have to do that, you know!" It’s really beginning to bother me. I have a hard time explaining it, and I’m tired of trying. Can you help me with a response? 

                                                                                              — Nom De Groom in Garden Grove

Dear Nom:

You’re in luck, because I too am “heading into my late middle-aged years” and have recently remarried. For the record, my wife calls me a “senior junior.”

Before we wed, I non-aggressively asked Diane Lillian Church if she was planning to change her name. She said yes, she wanted to be Mrs. Sherman. When I asked why, she said “because I want to be.” Reason enough. I sense that you’ve been giving your friends and colleagues a similar response, but it’s leaving you peeved and them unsatisfied.

These days, you do have other options besides a complete birth name surrender and new designation. You could use your maiden name as your new middle name. Or, in nine states, and yours is one of them, your husband could change his last name to yours. Or, (my favorite) you could legally “blend” your names.

If Diane and I had wanted, we could now be the Churchmans or the Shmurches, or we could’ve even anagrammed Church/Sherman and re-dubbed ourselves: Mr. & Mrs. Hunchcharmers. We actually discussed doing the latter as a way to create exactly the kind of thing you’re trying to avoid. I believe a little public spectacle on occasion is good for the soul.

“Hunchcharmers?  Party of two?”

Your call.

Thanks for Witboning,and please keep me posted.

 

Dear Witbones:

“My kids are all grown up but they won't leave home. I thought these would be my Golden Years but I'm still shelling out money for gas, buying milk by the barrel, and I can't find my phones or remote control. What can I do?”

                                                                                              — Witless in Wells River

Dear Witless:

If you’re in your “Golden Years,” then your kids must still be living at home in their 50s. I’m not surprised that you’ve finally lost your “remote control,” because that’s obviously the only kind of control you’ve had for some time.

If your middle-aged offspring haven’t gotten the hint by now, they never will. At this late date, the only way left for you to change their lives is by radically changing yours. I’d suggest the following:

Stop buying groceries and remove your car battery. Start a naked tuba and bagpipes band and have nightly rehearsals at your house.

Fake a few heart attacks.

Start talking to dead people at meals.

When you write in six months from now complaining that you never see your children anymore, we’ll deal with it.

Thanks for WITBONING, and please keep me posted.

 

Author, humorist, agony uncle columnist and poet B. Elwin Sherman writes from Bethlehem, NH. His latest book is THE DIOECIANS – His and Her Love. You may submit your Witboner at Witbones.com, or write to P.O. Box 300, Bethlehem, NH  03574.

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