I just read a book about glue. I literally can't put it down!

 I guess that's what you might call a sticky situation?

Dad?  Is that you?  Telling Jokes again?  Ok, so how about this one? 

I don't know about you, but this lady and I could be friends!



An old lady is doing some shopping at the local supermarket (during Covid times when things were in short supply)…

At the register, the cashier points to three cans of cat food, and tells her “Sorry, but we need proof that you actually own a cat, otherwise no sale”. The old lady begrudgingly goes home, and after some time comes back with her cat for proof.

The next day, it’s the same story except now she’s trying to buy three large bags of dog food. The same cashier gives her the same story about needing the dog for proof. Poor old lady goes home again, and this time comes back with her pooch.

The following day, upon entering the supermarket, the old lady holding a carton box with a hole in it, goes straight for the same cashier. “Could you do me a favor, and stick your hand in it?”, she asks. Hesitant but very curious, the cashier does just that, albeit very cautiously. “Umm, it feels like somebody took a dump in it”, says the cashier. “Exactly!”, exclaims the old lady. “I just need three rolls of toilet paper today.”

Air Fryer Teaches Rack To Eat Plantains

 I am an extremely active adult.  When I say I do a marathon a week, at current, that's what I do on a Sunday Morning on the bike.

All that "Round and Round" stuff takes a lot of time.

On my "off days" I have to prepare.  Food prep.  Meal Prep.

I welcome anything that shaves time off of that process. 

I also eat very clean meals.  More like Great Grandma made.  Basic foods, and a lot of it.  After all 3000 calories a day can come from junk or it can come with 90 grams of protein and high quality "fuel".

For example, this morning at an hour before dawn I was filling up the pressure cooker and making Chick Peas, Garbanzos, for Hummus later.

All this means that I am in the kitchen a lot.  That room gets slapped around and used worse than a tissue.

Even Rack the McNab SuperDog(TM) gets a benefit.  His food is prepared at a similar quality level with home made ingredients in bulk.  It's wholesome if a bit bland, I have even sampled it.

Yes, I've eaten "Dog Food".  More like High Protein Adventure Fuel but you do you.

My freezer is chock full of ingredients to save me time for the next round of making dog food.  Tomorrow.  After the workout.  *sigh*

So I have learned, at lunch, feed Rack first, then side dish, then get the chicken parts into the air fryer.

Having made the first step, I decided my side would be Plantains. 

• Peel the Plantain,

slice into coin sized pieces,
then lay out flat on a dinner plate.

• Sprinkle a teaspoon to a tablespoon of table sugar on top.
• Dust heavily with Cinnamon, to taste.

• Line the bottom of the air fryer with parchment paper.
• Place the coins of plantains on the paper.
• Turn on the air fryer to Air Fry (390F) and seal it.
• Check after 5 minutes.
• Check again every 3 minutes.
• Remove the Plantains when they look like they are done
  
  

While this is happening, Rack is watching, and finishing his own meal. 

I prepared two chicken thighs with Caribbean Jerked Seasoning by dusting the thighs heavily with spices, and setting them aside.

Still being watched, the Plantains are done, and I place on a plate.

The chicken goes in the Air Fryer for another 5 minutes on its own parchment paper.

This gets Rack closer.  He's not a Labrador of course, so he doesn't get in the way but you know he's looking for a sample of something.

I have had bad luck with introducing him to new foods.  Carrots are a treat for most dogs but he won't attempt a raw one.

Brown Eyes shooting Laser beams into my soul.

I take a coin and pop it in my mouth.  Hot! 

More Lasers, I won't get away with this.

Shake the chicken, flip it over, burn my hand on the side of the Air Fryer's bucket.

I cut a small portion of Plantain, fingernail sized, and pick it up.  Barely cool enough for me to handle I present it.

Rack sniffs.  Hmmm! We could be onto something here!

Here you go!

He picks it up and drops it on the floor, still a bit too hot for his doggy mouth.

Then he continues to lick the Cinnamon and Sugar and gets the piece in his mouth and chews.

SUCCESS!

The other piece of that coin is presented and has cooled a bit.  He takes it and enjoys it.

I have no peace.  I want my own food.  Check the Air Fryer and it's almost there, just shy of 165F and ....

More Brown Eye Laser Beams. 

*Sigh* Ok, Rack here's a little more.  That's it, all done!

He has the piece of Plantain and enjoys it and decides I need my room.  I had that last piece on the plate.  Chicken was cooked to 165F and I could have the rest of lunch.

There you have it.  My own need to speed things up, Air Fry the main courses, means now Mr Dog enjoys Plantains after all these years.

What next?  Carrots?

Wanna hear two short jokes and a long joke? Joke, joke, joooooke.

I have to say after being in one career for years, then retired, and doing other things, working on a car is quite entertaining.


 One day, a gynecologist got bored with his job…

So one day, I gynecologist got bored with his job. But he realized that he had spent many years training with his hands, and he decided he would switch to careers to something else that he could use his hands with.

Not wanting the stress of being a medical professional, he decided to attend vocational school to learn to be an automotive mechanic.

He worked really hard and studied day and night. When the results of his final exam came in, he was quite perplexed.

It showed that he got 150% on the test. The doctor figured this had to be a mistake so he called his instructor at the vocational school.

Doc: there must be some mistake. It says I got a 150% on the final exam. Could you explain that?

Instructor: well, for the first part of the test you took apart the cars engine perfectly. That counted for 50 points of your test.

Then you went and put the engine back together perfectly. That was another 50 points.

But those last 50 points? Well that’s because none of us have ever seen anyone do it through the muffler before.

Why did the alligator cross the road? To get the chicken.

 Hmmm.

Lately there have been a lot of chickens.  Joanne Worley would be proud.

Me?  Be "Topical"?  Naah!  Or am I?



 What does a brain weigh these days?

A man is laying in the hospital, waiting to be the first person in history to receive a brain transplant.

A doctor comes in and says, "Congratulations! But unfortunately, since this is a new procedure, your insurance isn't going to cover it all. So we're going to give you 3 choices for brains and you can decide which you can afford."

The man says to the doctor, "Okay, what are they?"

The doctor says, “Well, first there's the engineer brain, that's $100 an ounce. Then there's the astrophysicist brain, that'll cost you $200 an ounce. Finally, there's the politician brain. That's the most expensive at $1000 an ounce."

The man looks at the doctor, surprised… “that's absurd! Why is the politician brain so expensive?"

The doctor turns to him and says, “Sir, do you have any idea how many politicians it takes to get an ounce of brain?"

For food to be nutritious, it has to actually be chewable.

After I started making my own food, and in this case dog food, I came across a truism.

For food to be nutritious, it has to actually be chewable.

After all if you eat dry popcorn kernels, they're just going to pass through you and eventually try to sprout corn along the banks of the river. 

Or where ever that stuff goes.  I never got popcorn to sprout in my garden either up North or down here in Florida.  It must need more water or something.  I'll leave that to the farmers, I'm having too much luck growing Mango Trees.

I have four in pots, one in the ground.  I only wanted two.  It's a long story.  Neighbor's tree was a Special Variety from Thailand that had super thin skin and tasted like Mango Ice Cream no matter how eaten.  Neighbor moved away and any time one fell on the ground and into the street, I grabbed it.  So to preserve the tree, I have one in the pot.  To make sure I got one, I planted four.  All four sprouted. 

If you are nearby and want one, let's talk - based on availability and so forth.

Anyway, about the dog food. 

My usual recipe has been developed to keep Mr Dog, Rack the McNab SuperDog(TM) at a stable weight.  The vet thinks he looks amazing after all these years.  He's almost 13, I would have to check my records, and has been through all the issues of having sensitivity to fat, poultry, and grain. 

My recipe has none of that, or at least as little as possible.  Pancreatitis is avoided because the meat I use, burger meat, is boiled and the fat is skimmed before added to the vegetable mix.  Ladled out to a jar and then properly disposed of. 

Since that original recipe has been developed years ago, the actual ingredients have shifted along with the process.  I make the food twice a week, so I will have to re-master the recipe so the efficiency tweaks can be incorporated.

The de-fatted dog food is healthier than I generally eat.  But it has a what we will call the Pea Popping Problem. 

Start with putting the beef on the stove with water to get the mix to boiling to render out the fat.

Then, start on the Veg.

3 ounces of bulk frozen peas are put into the microwave for 2 minutes and 30 seconds. 

When the peas come out they are blisteringly hot.  But they are also frozen before I get them so they are uncooked.  I think I may even be able to get them to germinate if I threw them into the garden like so much popcorn kernels that won't grow.

That popcorn thing really annoys me.  When I want fresh, I prefer homegrown.  If it can't be then, peas or popcorn, I will have to settle for homemade.

After those 2:30, those peas are little green ball bearings.  I could get an electric blender or a food processor to blast them into a paste but that would not work for me because that means the dishwasher would be filled. 

Yes, I use great-grandmom's potato masher and try to turn them into mush.

Since I don't manage to burst all of them at once, and some remain un-popped, I end up with some that make it through the cooking process and are more like what was once called "Roughage".  Dietary Fiber.

How do I know?  Because I follow Rack around during the walks, "pick up" after him.  If I popped all his Peas, he would not pass unpopped peas. 

While this is getting too alliterative, the point remains, they are not nutritive if they aren't popped.

Three times a day, I feed him, and each time, the food goes into the microwave to take the chill off.  When it comes out, I reach into the food in his bowl and mix it by stirring with a finger.

Microwaves will leave your food with hot spots.  A hot spot will burn a dog's mouth just like it will burn your own.  This way you can be sure as you will burn your own finger just like testing baby bottles on your arm.

While I am stirring this and burning my finger, I stop when I spot an unpopped pea, and squeeze it between my fingers.  I don't ever get them all, but this is a partial solution and a good one.

I convert something that is not nutritionally available to a dog with not a complete set of teeth to something biologically available.  The peas are split, and his shorter digestive tract can process the green goodness into energy.

He may be older but he still has a lot of energy left.

So since I won't chew his food and feed him the stuff directly, this is a better and much less disgusting way to get him the food energy.

At least since they don't have doggy dentures to replace the molars he wasn't born with.

Why did the chicken cross the playground? To get to the other slide.

Oh bless, if you can't have a little rudeness on a Sunday, when can you have it?


  3 spies are captured and imprisoned.

An American, a Russian, and an Italian.

The guards come for the American, bind his hands and drag him off. The other 2 hear his screams for an hour, then nothing. In another hour the guards drag him back in, cut his bonds and dump him on a bunk. "All my training was for nothing, i told them everything."

They take the Russian bind his ha ds and drag him out. And for 4 hours the others hear screaming, then nothing. In Another hour, the guards drag the Russian back in, cut him loose crying. I thought after a life in Russia i had suffered the worst but it was nothing compared to what they did. I told them everything.

The guards then took the Italian, bound him, and dragged him out. All day, and all night the others listen to his screams. After what seemed like forever the guards dragged the Italian back in, cut him loose and dump him.

The Russian says"you must be the toughest man on earth!"

The American says "how did you not break?"

The Italian says, "i wanted to, i tried to tell them everything. But they wouldn't untie my hands!!!

Why did the chicken cross the ocean? To get to the other tide.

File this under "Malicious Compliance".   I love stories that comply, maliciously.



How to report a crime

George Phillips, an elderly man from Walled Lake, Michigan, was going up to bed, when his wife told him that he'd left the light on in the garden shed, which she could see from the bedroom window.

George opened the back door to go turnoff the light, but saw that there were people in the shed stealing things.

He phoned the police, who asked "Is someone in your house?" He said "No," but some people are breaking into my garden shed and stealing from me ."

Then the police dispatcher said "All patrols are busy, you should lock your doors and an officer will be along when one is available"
George said, "Okay."

He hung up the phone and counted to 30. Then he phoned the police again.

"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 just shot and killed them both; the dogs are eating them right now," and he hung up.

Within five minutes, six Police Cars, a SWAT Team, a Helicopter, two Fire Trucks, a Paramedic and an Ambulance showed up at the Phillips' residence, and caught the burglars red-handed.

One of the Policemen said to George, "I thought you said that you'd shot them!"

George said, "I thought you said there was nobody available."

Whack-A-Mole on a 23 year old Jeep Wrangler is never fun. Maintaining your old soldier Jeep is important.

Whack-a-mole.

It's the game you get to play when your car gets older.  My car, well, it's practically ancient.  Almost Antique.

I'm still enjoying the thing, I do like driving it.  I may be the "Little Old Lady" Driver who only goes to The Park three times a week, but I do enjoy the daylights out of the Jeep.

I must.  I've only driven Jeep Wrangler TJs since 1996.

But this one is a 2002.  That makes it, what, as of this writing?  23 model years old.

If I am off by a bit, it won't matter, I'm not replacing the thirsty beast.

It's a simple machine, as far as a vehicle goes. 
I've had 4 car stereos in it. 
Replaced the tires twice. 
I prefer to do my own oil changes, and besides, it gives me something to keep me honest when I do.

The rubber hoses can be old and cracking but I know where to look. 

If you have an old car, you will need to open your hood and look very closely at your hoses.  If you see any kind of cracking on them, the hose should be replaced.  When I did, I put a zip tie on the end to make sure it's "Good And Tight".

Last year I did a LOT of maintenance.

After an oil change:

I replaced almost all of the vacuum hoses under the hood and came back and did more later.

I replaced the "Oxygen Sensors".  There's a truly strange tool that looks like a socket wrench socket with a notch cut out of it for the wire to be avoided as you turn.  They're not easy, all the heat on them tries to weld them to your exhaust system.

I replaced the Fuel Injectors.

I replaced the "Coil Rail".

I replaced the Clutch Master Cylinder at the dealer since I was stranded at the dealer after a workout.  It was another 10K to ride the bike home since they couldn't get me here.  Turns out, that's a plug in replacement on a 2002 Jeep Wrangler.  Could have done that one myself if I had the part, and they didn't.  I had to wait a week without a car at home.

There is a bag waiting for me to replace the bearings in the driver's seat so it rolls back and forth smoothly.

I replaced the gas cap.  Twice.

I am sure there are other things.  I'm about to replace the roof and windows since they're held in by zippers and velcro.

There is no such thing as Security in a Soft Top or Convertible.  Period.  I had to remove the alarm years ago when it shorted out and blew one of those weird plastic fuses.

Mind you, this is over the years.  Not just "right now".   Maybe since 2015 or so.

I don't drive a lot.  The car rides great though, new tires help that.  I went from 10mpg to 16mpg which helps after all that maintenance.

Being bored on Covid Lockdown and "Peak Summer Workout Pause" helped.

This time it was the battery.  I got stranded this morning.  I was going to go to The Park to do my usual Maintenance Workout of 23 or so miles on the bike.  Got everything together and went to start the car.  "Rrrrr" said DJ the TJ.  Then "CLICK CLICK CLICK". 

What I said is unprintable.

We took Mr Dog for his second walk around town.  When I came back I had put the charger on the car and ignored it for 3 hours.  That gave me enough charge to get to Walmart for a warranty replacement.

A repeat also implies that I have a charging system problem or a "Parasitic Drain".

We will see.  I have a brand new battery in the car now.  If I get the "Rrrrr... CLICK" problem again, I'll have the portable jump starter under the back seat after Friday and will have to replace the alternator.

That's what it is right?  Alternator not charging?

*sigh* I have my appointments, Darth Jeep.  Better behave.

Why won’t crabs & clams share their food? They’re shellfish.

 Mmmm Shellfish!

Having lived with parrots for many years, I have to say that they definitely do pick up habits.  Mischevious habits, like nipping the dog and well you will see.




 A woman goes to a pet store to buy a parrot.

The clerk who sells it to her says that it used to live in a brothel that got shut down after a raid by law enforcement, and they picked it up for a song at a police auction. He warns that the bird might have picked up some bad language, but the woman says that if it has, she'll teach it not to say those things sooner or later.

The woman takes the parrot home. As it looks around, taking in its new surroundings, it says "New house, new madam."

Then the woman's daughters come home. When it sees them, the parrot says "New house, new madam, new girls."

Then the woman's husband comes home. On seeing him, the parrot says "New house, new madam, new girls, but the same old customers. Good to see you again, John."

A group of world class athletes and prisoners founded a consulting agency. They specialized in pros and cons

One of the most perfect descriptions I have ever read of this.  Oh and it isn't what you might think it is. 

Just play along, OK?




  She was trembling with expectation, biting her lip...

She was trembling with expectation, biting her lip, her face tense, and tiny drops of sweat on her body bore witness to her excitement, boiling underneath her clothes.

She grabbed it with both hands, strong fingers fixed in the right position. It rested in her palms, arching and quivering. She waited for the right moment and began her movement, accelerating and adjusting the rhythm without letting it slip out of her hands, confidently controlling and directing it.

With each passing moment, approaching the culmination, her expression became more determined. She was in complete control, and in that singular moment, with firm motion, she directed it to the right spot. Held tightly by her strong arms, it was secured in its position and elastically lifted her soaring, curved body.

For an instant, both of them froze at the highest point of their trajectory. And she, having used it, receiving all she could from it, let it go while it was still pulsating, unfinished in its movement, but no longer needed, useless.

Having been released, after giving it all to her without reserve, it humbly accepted its sudden loneliness and fell down, slowly but inevitably.

She continued her motion, but in a relaxed manner, letting go of all the tension that came from their union.

In such a state, the soft surface accepted her body, and everything about her spoke of the greatest pleasure from what had just happened. The women's world record in pole vaulting had been broken.

Athletic Training With Multiple GPS You Never Really Are Sure Where You Are.

I was out on the trail.  That's pretty common for me, I do that three times a week, 75 miles on average, marathon on Sundays.

That marathon isn't as big a deal as if I strapped on running shoes and did 26.2 miles (41 Point Something Km) and actually ran it.  It takes 2 hours on a bike to do that distance including water stops.  3 hours on inline skates.

I miss my skates, I'm strongly considering returning to them before the death apple tree threatens my titanium collar bones again this season.

Never mind that.

There is a lot of technology I strap onto myself to monitor my performance.  Probably too much.  They all talk to the phone as a central clearing house.  I have a "little man" talking in my ears thanks to Runkeeper.  He comes by every 3 minutes telling me my distance, heart rate, speed, and averages.  That kind of crap I keep a record of on a spreadsheet to tell me if I am training well.

I'm not really that focused though.  I do go, and enjoy the journey, but on a bike I am not competitive.  Inline skates yes, but a bicycle I am intermediate distance and speed.

I don't have sponsors to answer to and while I would welcome one, I'm not looking for it.  I was a sponsored inline skater Back In The Day, but that time came and went.

The thing is that every time Mr. Announcer clears his throat in my head, turns down the music, and fights with the wind noise, I pay attention.  Then I start taking note.

Nothing agrees.

Mr Announcer "lives" in Runkeeper.  Runkeeper talks to the phone.  The phone talks to the chest strap for Heart Rate.  But the phone does not talk to the speedometer on the bike.

I'm sorry, Bike Computer.  Meh. 

Runkeeper does not talk to the sport watch, that has its own software.

I check speed, and now there's a difference because while I am extremely stable at speed, I do speed up to avoid obstacles.  Just like those Death Apples which would puncture the tires, or landscaper's work, or worst of them all Karens who are Trail Hogs.  Trust me, Trail Hogs and Karens are the WORST!

Damnit! Keep Right Except To Pass!

Anyway, I look at the Bike Computer and the speed and distance are now varying from the phone. 

 

I check the watch.  Yes, I have a sport watch.  I have to.  That does a fair job, sometimes, of reporting to the phone and software current speed, heart rate, and other details.  At the end it tells me calories burned. 

Most importantly the software it runs with is semi-permanent.  I have details going back two years.  With the recovery I have had to go through with the broken clavicles and other issues through lockdown and so forth, those details are extremely useful. 

I rattled off everything that I get from the "cloud" of gadgets I have to the Doctor and he told me that I don't need a Stress Test (I'm quite over 40) and that a Resting Heart Rate of low 50s is excellent.

But nothing agrees.

I have to pick and choose what I believe in.

The watch has to be proven to synchronize to the heart rate.  It often reads at half speed when I am in a sporting event.  The first lap at the park is me checking and verifying and taking my eyes off the trail.  If the watch is "wrong" and does not have a heart rate that agrees with the chest strap by the first mile, I stop, curse loudly, take it off, threaten to back a Jeep over top of it, lather, rinse, and repeat.

To get this far, I have already restarted the watch at the trail head, and told it the sport I will do today.  Watch the heart rate reported after 3 minutes while I load the gear onto the bike.   Start the Body Camera because Karens exist.  Verify the heart rate is reasonable.

Now I have started Runkeeper.  Started the Body Camera.  Verified the chest strap heart rate. 

Finally on the trail and under power. 

I am an endurance athlete.  Decidedly in the Master Class of everything I do.  Master Class is a polite way of saying I'm an old duffer.  I could also out train most people a third my age so step off with the ageism.

Oh wait, I'm talking to myself again, never mind!

Three laps to an hour.  That's a half marathon.  13.6 miles on average, but it dips as low as 13.1 and as high as 14.1 depending if I do extra circles in the parking lot to verify the bike is in tune.

After three laps, water stop, and carbo-load in the form of a cookie.

Verify all the electronics are working.

Stop at the golf club pro shop for ice water.

Back on the trail.

Mid workout I have about 1/4 of a discrepancy between all three GPS.  Mutter to myself that GPS is supposed to be accurate.  Complain to myself until I get going.  Check speed.  Realize I have just rode another 2 laps and debate.

Is today a Marathon, or is the workout done?

I may not know exactly how far I have gone, but it's a good day to burn 1500 calories.  300 calories per lap, 18 minutes per lap.

Give or take.

Since GPS is questionable, I have gone so far as to measure the distance using cartography tools on the computer.  My own measurements come up as 4.6 miles per lap plus whatever I do to get to and from the Jeep and the water stop at the Pro Shop.

Average.

Bike Computer says it's a little less.
Apple GPS says its a little more.

Average.

I guess with multiple GPS you never really are sure where you are.

Nostalgia Radio used to be so much better, don't you think?

I remember my father telling me stories of how they trained the military pre World War II and this really reminds me of it.

Bang Bang!



A soldier shows up for military training but realizes he forgot to bring his gun.

The sergeant hands him a stick and gestures to the training field.

"You'll have to use this, soldier. If you need to shoot someone, just aim your stick at them and shout 'Bangity bang-bang'. If someone gets too close to you, poke them in the gut with it as though it was a bayonette and shout 'Stabbity stab-stab'. Now get moving."

The soldier thinks this is pretty ridiculous, but to his surprise, when he aims his stick at a fellow trainee across the field and shouts "Bangity bang-bang!" the other soldier goes down in a theatrical display. Then, another trainee tries to run past him, so he pokes the guy in the ribs and shouts "Stabbity stab-stab!" and he too goes down, pretending to be dead.

So, the soldier starts running through the mock-battlefield, shouting "Bangity bang-bang" and occasionally "Stabbity-stab-stab", until eventually he realizes he's the last man standing.

He's feeling pretty proud of himself until another soldier rounds a corner and starts walking toward him. Slowly. Stiffly. Menacingly.

The soldier takes aim with his stick and shouts, "Bangity-bang-bang!"

But the other soldier doesn't go down this time. He keeps approaching, arms stiff at his sides, boots stomping aggressively into the ground.

The soldier begins to sweat. He clears his throat, adjusts grip on his stick and hollers, "Bangity bang-bang!"

But nothing happens. The other soldier keeps marching toward him.

Now the soldier panics. He pretends to reload his stick and desperately cries out, "Bangity bang-bang! Bangity bang-bang! Stabbity stab-stab!"

But to his dismay, nothing works.

Finally, the other soldier reaches him, kicks him in the shin and knocks him onto the ground.

He stands over the fallen soldier and says:

"Tankity tank-tank."

Why does a chicken coop have two doors? If it had four doors it would be a chicken sedan.

 No snarls today, it's the weekend.  Got a storm threatening to be rainy here today and tomorrow, but no biggie because I have your cavalcade of stoopit to enjoy.


Now I am not certain about this dude.  Seems a bit shady to me but you be the judge.

 Two friends are walking in the square when they noticed a poker buddy of theirs sitting on a bench, waving at them.

"Hey Carson, I am having a terrible headache. It's ruining my day." says the acquaintance. "Do you have any medicine with you?"

Carson opens his fanny pack, takes out a pill, and hands it to him. "Here, take this and get some rest. Don't worry. You'll get better."

The two friends say goodbye to him, and continue walking. Until a lady, their neighbor, appears in their path. She is sitting on the floor.

“I’m glad you’re the one coming,” says the neighbor. "Tripped, I think I hurt my foot. Do you have anything that will help?"

Carson opens his fanny pack, takes out a pill, and hands it to her. "Here, take this and get some rest. Don't worry. You'll get better."

They help the lady get to a bank, say goodbye, and continue walking. After another stretch, they meet another acquaintance of theirs. Walking a dog that's is barking non-stop.

"Carson, I can't believe it's you," says the guy, pointing at the dog. "He's very nervous today. Do you have anything for it?"

Carson opens his fanny pack, takes out a pill, and hands it to him. "Here, give him this and let him rest for a while. Don't worry. He'll get better."

They chat for a while with him, pet the dog, then leave.

Further ahead, there is a guy selling hot dogs.

He sees the pair coming, and as they pass him, he says, "Carson, what a blessing to see you here. Do you happen to have anything for diarrhea with you?"

Carson shakes his head. He and his friend buy two hot dogs, and go back to walking.

"Carson, tell me something.", asks his friend. "How come you have medicine for everything, but not for diarrhea?"

And he replies, "For everything? My friend... All I have are tranquilizers."