An explanation, and an apology.

As you regular readers (bless you all!) know, I like to carry on conversations with you in my posts. Sometimes those conversations extend into the comments, but quite a few of you also send me emails to continue the conversations “off line.”

More than a few emails (more than the couple who commented comment on Tuesday’s post about the pun regarding the “Dukes of Hazzard”) said they didn’t get it and asked about it.

That puts me in a slight dilemma. A famous comedian (I think it was Bob Hope) once said, “Never explain your jokes. If they don’t get it and you explain it they won’t think it’s funny. If they DO get it and you explain it, it’s not as funny because you’ll seem patronizing.” (My paraphrase. You get the idea.)

On the other hand, some who emailed me asked for the explanation, saying (like Michelle in South Africa) that they’d never watched the show.

OK, here it is. (If you “got”it, don’t read this. You’ve already decided if it was funny or just painful.)

A main character in the TV show was the sheriff. He was the comic foil to Beau and Luke Duke, the “Dukes” of Hazzard County. When their car (the “General Lee”) would roar up a ramp and sail over a creek, the sheriff’s car, lights flashing and siren wailing, would always fall short of the far bank or otherwise end up wrecked.

The Sheriff’s name, always spoken by him with great pride, was “Roscoe P. Coltrane.” Hence the reference to a “Roscoe P.” on the tracks beside the road.

Hey, I SAID I was sorry at the end of the post! I told you my daughter groaned all the way to the next state (and it Texas, that’s a L-O-N-G way.)

You asked! (Well, some of you did.)

Next topic. Moving right along.

My daughter Joy called today from Florida. She and the doctor she works with now have a regular routine in which the doc will empathize with a patient for the long wait, comment that, “Well, we’re ready to spend some time with you now,” then turn to look Joy in the eye and add, “Finally.” They just smile at each other. It’s an “in joke” at that practice. When they refer to “the F word” they’re talking about the word “finally.” (Don’t worry, they don’t talk about “the F word” in front of patients, who might just not understand!)

Good news as well from my other daughter Amy and her husband Tom who moved in June to Chicago. She works from her home, so can live anywhere in the country, but Tom just started a new job in July in an office building downtown. He has completed his first placement (sale—he works on commission) well ahead of the schedule they had set forth as “normal” and has more deals pending. I think he will do very, very well.

So, no angst in this post other than that caused by the explanation at the top. I promise I won’t do anything like that again any time soon!

Of course, that promise is meaningless, since sometimes I just can’t help myself.