Tuesday, November 24, 2015


      I am what, in some circles, is called "a Birthright Friend."
     Which means that I was born into a family that believed in the teaching of the Society of Friends - aka Quakers.
      Not that anyone in my family looked like this:

      Although there was my Great Uncle Hayes who spoke in the manner of his forebearers like:
      "How is thee today, Johnny?"
       "Would thee like to help me milk the cows."
      Which reminds me of the only time I  heard my Uncle Hayes use profanity.
      It was in the barn where my Uncle Hayes was milking his cows - a mandatory chore given the horrible suffering a cow would endure if it went un-milked for too long.
       Unable to afford the cost of an electric milking machine, my Uncle Hayes milked his cows by hand by squeezing their tits in a in a rhythmic fashion that would cause them to ejaculate mike into a bucket.
        Some cows accept the squeezing of their tits more than others.
         Fact is, some cows flat don't like any pulling or squeezing down there.
         Which is how and why some cows will try to kick either you or your bucket at milking time.
           And this particular cow had already missed Uncle Hayes once and hit his  milk bucket twice.
           So when the cow kicked Uncle Hayes' bucket a third time, he stood  up, walked around to the front of the cow and punched it between the eyes, causing the cow's knees to buckle.
            And with that, my gentle Quaker Uncle said:
            "That will teach thee, thee damnable cow!"
            Then, mortified, my Uncle Hayes turned to me and said:
            "Thee must not tell your Aunt Catherine what I just said to this cow!"

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