Don't IM me; I'm smelting ore.

You know how that goes.  
I don't need to tell you twice.

Scorpions beware.

Once I think I recall it having been fun
or rewarding to fix computers, program
ass-lickations and smelt ore.  Now, my
memory has faded.

scott@codecrunchers.com

Yes, Yes it is.

Then, when I was riding my trusty burro
down the valley he turns to me and says:

"It's quite a nice day for a donkey
 ride, old chap."

"Ass", Said I.

Promptly my burro climbed upon the back
of another donkey horribly breaking all
its legs.

The moral of the story being:
Don't attempt to erect the tower of
babel using foul animals; it won't work.

Not because of language barriers, of
course. Their bones are only so strong, 
after all.

         .    .    .

Days later I was pulling up on the
scene in my 1974 Pinto hatchback when
my burro exclaimed to me, "You really must
pull over; I feel I may burst!"

I had planned on stopping anyway.

         .    .    .

Once it was said that burros have the
ability to remedy colds with simple
machinations of their hooves.

This has never been demonsrated in
any believable manner.

         .    .    .

The farmer was puzzled:  Why had all the
geese suddenly taken up residence in his
model ten gallon hat?

A stately creation thirty feet high and
twenty wide (disregarding the brim, of
course) it was the largest model hat in all
of Brewster county.

Geese and not tourists flocked from miles
around, not to marvel at it, but to take
up residence!

"I couldn't tell you", Snickered my burro.