Overhead at the cafe

“I feel bad when I feel better because I know I’m going to feel worse.”

A favorite nursery rhyme

I see the moon and the moon sees me. The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see. God bless the moon and God bless me. God bless the somebody I’d like to see.

Marital melee

I try to listen to everything my lovely bride says, but sometimes I just can’t do it. It’s not my fault. It’s a scientific fact that it’s not my fault. Studies have shown that women are capable of talking more than men are capable of listening. That’s why we have those “I told you that” and “No, you didn’t” discussions. A long-wed woman told me that no man is truly married until he understands every word his wife isn’t saying. I have a lot of listening to do before they take me to the Hartland Home for the Permanently Bewildered.

The barbershop

I stopped at The Barber-Q to get my ears lowered.

My neighbor’s neighbor Still Bill (he makes more dust than miles) was in the chair. He was expressing concern over his perceived decline in the barber’s abilities.

“I’ve been having Conan the Barber cut my hair all my life,” said Still Bill. “He was a good barber once. He didn’t used to leave a bald spot on the back of my head.”

The news according to Hartland Harold

In a small town, Hartland Harold is the one who knows what is going on. Here are the headlines according to Hartland Harold.

NRHEGBOMSCBHTLHCGFVMBLSO High School Class reunion postponed until former homecoming queen lost a few more pounds.

City mime dies. Townspeople hold a moment of loudness in his memory.

Soleful Shoe Store has wide selection of loafers. The problem is trying to get one of them to wait on you.

Rookie opens a barbershop. “We sell hats, too,” said the new clipper.

Record high bowling scores were reported after earthquake.

No one heard about hearing aid recall.

Pat Pending, local inventor, comes up with a camera that subtracts ten pounds.

Randy Warhol, Andy’s long-lost cousin, said that in the future, everyone would have his or her 15 minutes of healthcare coverage.

City Council decrees that anyone can chew tobacco within the city limits, but they must go out of town to spit.

The Masochists’ Club reminds everyone that Monday is just around the corner.

Ask Al

Customers of this column ask great questions. I provide answers of dubious quality.

“Do two wrongs ever make a right?” No, they make either a weather forecast or an economist.

“What happened after man invented the wheel?” A deer ran in front of it.

“I put up one of those wind turbines, but it doesn’t work. Any suggestions?” Have you tried blowing on it?

“What is the best thing to use to repel Minnesota mosquitoes?” A crucifix.

“What is the last bird to migrate?” The wingless warbler.

“Why are so many people afraid of snakes?” It saves them from having to go camping.

The good old days weren’t always that good

“They don’t make cars like they used to.”

I hear someone say that almost every week. They don’t make cars like they used to. I owned a series of cars that could be started only by opening their hoods. Some claim that the cars had personalities in those bygone days, but I don’t miss having to give my wife instructions such as, “Pump the foot feed twice. Don’t do it any more than that or you will flood it and then you won’t be going anywhere. And don’t use second gear. It sticks.”

To put 100,000 miles on some of the old cars was a near miracle. Putting 100,000 miles on new cars is breaking them in.

They don’t make cars like they used to. Thank goodness.

At the end

I was on my way to a funeral when I thought of another late friend. I do a lot of thinking about the dearly departed.

Gilma Armstrong worked as a cashier at Sibilrud’s Cardinal Grocery Store. Sibilrud’s had three aisles for my shopping pleasure.

I would grab an experienced shopping cart and begin my grocery-grabbing journey. My cart of choice had one wheel that veered to the left, another which turned to the right, one that squeaked loudly, and one wheel that refused to roll.

Short of time and money, I’d make my way through Sibilrud’s. As I came around the near turn and headed for the finish line, I looked at the end of the aisle and saw Gilma.

She was smiling.

That’s something we can all hope for at the end — a smile.

Hartland resident Al Batt’s column appears every Wednesday and Sunday.