Hogspore Community News
                             By Clet Litter as told to Bob Simpson
                            Celebrating Mother’s Day in Hogspore

The report has a religious theme this week. I apolergize. I’ll try to give the
Devil his due next week.

Yesterday was Mother’s Day. We had my mother over for dinner, which is
somewhat of a treat for my wife, Punkin. I can’t write that without sounding
a might sarcastic.

Punkin is probably just jealous cause Momma Litter is still alive and kicking
whilst Punkin’s mother died a while back.  She did say, “Clet, I sure wish your
momma could enjoy Heaven as much as my momma is enjoying it ... right

Mumford Pickens told me he had a disturbing dream. “Clet, I dreamed it was
the year 2216. I had stopped by City Hall. I saw a sign on the door ‘Closed for
the Hollerday.’

I asked a man walking by, ‘I didn’t know it was a hollerday. What day are we

He said, ‘You shouldn’t be asking that kinda question in 2216. You’re gonna
get us both in trouble. I’ll tell you, but don’t look at me and don’t talk to me

He looked around and then he whispered, ‘It’s St. Trump’s Day.”’

It was National Prayer Day last Thursday. I thought I heard Jimmy
Suspenders whisper off a prayer asking for a loving and understanding

Right then, a loud voice come from the clouds, “Jimmy Suspenders. Verily,
I have already bestowed upon you a loving and understanding wife.”

The voice sounded like something out of the Old Testament. It continued.
“Thou needs to cease performing as if thou were a Schmuck.”

This column donates its proceeds and joins with the Columbus News-
Report’s own continuing support of our troops.


Out of the goodness of my heart and several major arteries, not to
mention the many capillaries that are employed in the peripheral
regions, I am willing to add your e-mail address to my weekly column
e-mail. It's particularly enjoyed by agoraphobics, who still want a good
laugh once a week.

I won't sell or rent your e-mail address ...
because I don't know how to do that.

Just click on my e-mail address below and ask for the weekly column
to be delivered to you each week. No one will ever know that you read
this kind of stuff.

Bob Simpson
Largo, Florida

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