How To Call The Police When You're Old and Can't Get Around Like You Used To

True story, this!

This happened in Meridian, Mississippi. George Phillips called the local police one night to report a burglary in progress. He told the dispatcher that thieves were stealing things from his shed, and he could see them from his back door. The dispatcher asked, "Is someone in your house?" George said "No, but..." He was cut off by the clipped voice on the phone. The dispatcher then told him that all patrol units were on calls, and that an officer would be there when they would be available.

George said "Okay", then hung up the phone. He looked out the window, looked at the phone, took a deep breath and called the police again. This is what he said. "Hello, I just called you a few seconds ago because there were people stealing things from my shed. Well, you don't have to worry about them now because I've just shot them." Then he hung up the phone and smiled to himself.

Within just a few minutes, an Armed Rescue Unit, three police cars, and an ambulance responded. The surprised burglars were apprehended.

One of the officers wondered out loud, "I thought the homeowner shot them..."

George leaned on his cane and shouted from his doorway, "I thought you said there was nobody available!"

Jazz Funerals...and all that jazz

It's this kind of stuff that makes me homesick...

For those who are unfamiliar with the concept of a New Orleans Jazz Funeral, here's a quote from a memorial to Tuba Fat's funeral:

"For us in New Orleans, death is the ultimate celebration of a life well lived. It is a time to rejoice. It is a time to celebrate. For we believe that if we do not mark the passing with one final party, then the creator will never know how much the person was appreciated and loved."

To read the rest of this tribute, and for visual (and audio) treat, visit Cajun Images: http://www.cajunimages.com/jazz_funerals.htm

The panther that wouldn't die...

I was about to call it a day from working the "back forty", and was thoroughly exhausted... It was pretty near slap dark, and there just beyond the dark edge of the swampy side of the woods, was the biggest panther I'd ever seen. Why, its evil eyes were glowing, and it was crouched ready to spring.

I fired my shotgun, and saw that I made a clean kill, for the panther fell dead where it stood... Cautiously, I ventured closer to find....

I had made toothpicks outta an overturned roots-up kinda stump with my shotgun. The evil eyes turned out to be the last rays of muted sunlight filtering between some of the roots...I was so sure it was the old panther that had been prowling the property like clockwork...

That was the first and last case of mistaken identity I ever made with a firearm. A memorable lesson learned.