Dear Smiley: A golf championship was held this past weekend at a club where I am a member.

The winners may wish they hadn’t played so well.

We received an email with the results and the following announcement:

“All flight winners will receive a plague commemorating their accomplishment.”

Boils for first place, lice for second and locusts for third?



The cowboy way

Dear Smiley: After many Saturdays spent in 25-cent cowboy matinees, I realized several things:

The good guys always wore white hats and sometimes white shirts — the bad guys’ hats and shirts were always black.

All posse members rode slow horses and were terrible shots.

No one ever ran out of bullets unless the script said, “He runs out of bullets and throws down his gun.” (We called their Colt revolvers “36-shooters”).

All of the main bad guy’s minions were always eliminated by capture or gunshot near the end of the movie, but only the good guy could catch the main bad guy after a long chase followed by a face-to-face exchange of blows.

And during the Epic Fight, neither of them ever loses his hat.



Thrill of the chase?

Dear Smiley: Continuing the discussion on cowboys and old cowboy movies, has anyone ever wondered why the bad guys, when preparing to rob the stagecoach, always wait high up on the hill until the stagecoach has passed them by before setting off in pursuit?

I know that doing otherwise would do away with the necessity for the thrilling chase across the desert, but did none of the outlaws ever think about that while tossing down their rotgut at the local saloon?



Country living

Dear Smiley: A fond memory of the 1950s was when I would visit my Aunt Hattie and cousins on a farm in Batchelor.

My grandmother and I took a train from Shreveport to Melville, where my aunt would pick us up to ride the ferry across the Atchafalaya River. The rest of the way, we traveled on a gravel road.

Across from her house was a bayou with beautiful moss-covered trees and birds of all kinds. My cousins and I would walk along the country road to a family-owned grocery store called Schutz’s to buy a snack.

Aunt Hattie was very adept at canning. She would can figs from a tree in her yard and serve fig preserves with her buttery buttermilk biscuits and homemade sausage patties.

I had my first experience hearing the lamenting coo-ooing calls of Louisiana mourning doves on her farm. Every time I hear the same bird calls at my home in southeast Louisiana, I recall those wonderful, slow days that I experienced at my aunt’s house in the country a very long time ago.



Right awful story

Dear Smiley: One more “lefty” story? In 1920 or ’21, my dad (in first or second grade) was told to write with his right hand and not his left.

Eventually, the nun told him to bring a diaper from home. (These were the days when cloth diapers were the only kind available.)

The nun tied his left hand behind his back and to the chair back. (Let teachers try THAT now, and there’d be big trouble!)

Needless to say, he learned to write with his right hand. He had beautiful penmanship and received many compliments. Also, no speech problems!



Ask your doctor …

Dear Smiley: While watching TV, I see ads for lawyers saying, “If you or a loved one took (insert any medicine name here) and suffered from (insert any problem here), call this number. You may be entitled to compensation.”

Ads for medicines say, “Do not take (insert any medicine name here) if you suffer from (insert any problem here).

The messages go on to say that people who take the medicine should contact their doctor if they have (insert problem here) while taking the medicine. Never do they say the medicine may cause the problem.

Now, I am afraid to start taking any new medications and wonder if I would be better off stopping the ones I’m now taking.



Dear Doug: My policy is to avoid any medicine if, in the TV commercial, the list of bad things it can do to you is longer than the list of good things it can do …

Dealing with twins

Dear Smiley: When my cousin, Ellis, was a child, her two best friends were identical twins.

Asked how she could tell them apart, Ellis, age 4, replied matter-of-factly, “The one who looks like Annie is Fannie, and the one who looks like Fannie is Annie.”



Write Smiley at He can also be reached by fax at (225) 388-0351 or mail at P.O. Box 588, Baton Rouge, LA 70821.