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                                                                     Hogspore News
                                                        By Clet Litter from the Ozarks
                                                         Valentine's Day is date night

   Deep Pockets Valentine’s Day is acoming. It lands on a Friday, which is also a date night.
There goes your discretionary adult beverage money. We don’t have many warnings for you
this year. If you haven’t learnt by now, then you’re gonna be alone on February 14. As my
uncle says when folks complain about the roast beef at the supper table. “That’s alright. That
just means there’s more for me.” That last part was a hypothetical example. What sane person
would not like roast beef?
   So, if you buy your girl a 50-cent package of candy from the clearance shelf in the hardware
store, your ugly best friend will sweep her off both feet with a ten-dollar box of gooey
chocolates, flowers, and a romantic mushy card.

   I just realized that I might be leaving out a good portion of womanhood with my advice to
men about Valentines. Here’s my disclaimer, (at my wife’s suggestion). Don’t get flowers or
chocolates if you think your loved one may wonder if you were defaulting to a stereotypical
Valentine gift. Punkin helped with that stereotypical word. I thought a stereotype was a brand
of Hi-fi.

   If you want to show your inside feelings, you’re gonna have to do something that most
fellers can’t do, and that is, give some serious prolonged thinking about a gift. I can’t offer
much more cause I’m still working on how to do any lengthy ponderings about anything for
more than a minute.

   Whatever you come up with, you also still gotta get her flowers, candy, and a romantic
mushy card.  
   Ol Slewfoot wandered into town again this week. He’s that bear that Old Doc Muley
performed a cataract operation on a few years ago. There was some speculation that Ol
Slewfoot was coming in for an eye recheck. Turns out, he was only doing what a big bear
does, doing anything he wants to do. His eyes must be sharp cause he saw a sign for honey
for sale down in Winslow’s Holler and took off with about four bee hives in a little red wagon.
No one knows who taught him to read. It does seem mighty peculiar that the elementary
English teacher was enjoying a basket of fresh wild Juniper berries left on her porch. There’s
talk that she uses them to flavor her rheumatism medicine. A basket of berries, who would’ve
thought of a bear as a teacher’s pet?

   Overheard at the Come-On-Give-Us-One-More-Chance Diner during breakfast hours:
“I’ll feel better after the waitress brings me my bacon.”

   You can contact Clet Litter at


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   No one will ever know that you read this kind of stuff.

   Largo, Florida
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