———- from Christopher Coughlin of Colorado Springs, CO
Were you born after 1950? I detect in your question a kind of “the world owes me a living” whine that’s so prevalent in people of that generation. Instead of feeling gratitude for the fact that you have a bicycle, or two legs to ride it, you complain that bike riding moves you through the sea of air, producing the effect of a wind on your face. If you rode your bike in a vacuum, the troublesome wind would vanish, but the cumbersome life support system you’d have to wear to accomplish this would make a little headwind seem like a blessing.
———- from Karren Guthrie of Colorado Springs, CO
Love and war are essentially the same activity, so whatever rules apply to one also apply to the other. The protocol differs. In love, you kneel and slip a ring on someone’s finger, while in war you lie prone in a ditch and fire a rifle at someone a hundred yards away. Once hostilities have reached a certain level, you need outside help. In love, this involves seeing a therapist, but in war, it involves UN troops. Often the end result is the same, helicopters hovering over your house, your dirty laundry aired on the nightly news, and a financial hit that impacts everyone involved for years to come.
———- from Greg McVerry of San Francisco, CA
Only if she was drinking milk at the time someone told a joke. The stupider the joke, the greater the force and volume of the effluviant. They say that Wisconsin Public Radio refuses to carry my show just so cows in that most dairy of states will stay on task, and avoid nasal regurgitation. Most cows can’t stand milk. They much prefer a highly carbonated, caffeinated soft drink. Many cows simply refuse to give milk without first drinking a few gallons of the stuff. Often you’ll see a beverage truck parked outside a dairy barn, delivering case after case of sweetend bubbly water that will just end up being snorted onto the hay once the cow realizes the inherent absurdity of her condition.
Since being elected to public office, I’ve found that I enjoy running. Problem is, little rocks find their way into my running shoes. I never had this problem before I got involved in politics. What can I do to stop this from happening?
———- from Tom DeWolfe of Bend, OR
Appoint a committee to spend a year studying the problem, then an hire an outside consultant to spend another year reviewing the committee’s findings. Take a year or more to study the consultant’s review of the committee’s work, then put the whole matter on the back burner while you devote all your energies to getting re-elected. Once you’re re-elected, this whole gravel in the running shoe thing will be old business and neither you nor your constituents will have the slightest interest in dredging up something they were bored by four years earlier. If you’re going to take up running, wear huaraches, like the Tarahumara of Northwestern Mexico. The pebbles slip right out while you run and, since they’re made out of old tires, they last forever!
———- from John Shivey of Hendersonville, NC