I'm enjoying our stories about encounters with squirrels, which proves it doesn't take much to keep me entertained.
Here's one from Joan Waguespack Barre, of Metairie:
"My husband, Carl, fed the squirrels every evening at about 5.
"He placed pecans on the ground near the kitchen door, stood at the open door and tapped two pecans together. The squirrels came scurrying from all directions to feast on the pecans.
"One day he called me into the kitchen during feeding time. He had placed pecans on the floor in the center of the kitchen.
"He said to me, 'Watch this.' He stood inside the kitchen and tapped two pecans together. In came two squirrels. They snatched the pecans and hurried out of the door.
"Seems his two pet squirrels had been feasting in the kitchen for quite a while. Only the same two ventured into the kitchen. The others remained outdoors. He seemed to be able to tell the squirrels apart."
Gene Duke, of Baton Rouge, has a different kind of squirrel story:
"I kidded my son that the squirrels with small brains keep outsmarting him and eating his bird feed.
"Finally he solved the problem. He installed a clay pigeon tossing machine that launches the squirrel.
"However, the houses are close and he cannot shoot the airborne thieves."
Kathy Gibbs, of Mandeville, adds to our "fun with GPS" tales:
"My daughter, who lived in southern Maryland for a while, had a GPS voice that would direct her to 'Buckee Doctor' (aka Buckeye Drive).
"And when I first moved to the New Orleans area about eight months after Hurricane Katrina, I was given a cell-phone-style GPS system that had no visual component — just audio.
"So, for example, the voice would tell me, 'Turn right on Poydrus Street.' But at that point in time, many street signs were either twisted to the wrong position or even completely missing.
"And since I had never been to New Orleans before, I'd have to literally drive around in circles until the voice would say, 'Take the next right onto Poydrus Street.'
"I wasted a lot of time and gas trying to figure out which way to go!"
Band on the levee
Vincent Tortorich joins our conversation about the dedication of the LSU marching band on football nights:
"In the late '50s, when I played with the Tiger Band under the direction of drum major Charlie Roberts, I knew all about staying in the stadium late.
"We practiced in an old building behind what's now the P-Mac, and left from there to go to the stadium.
"In those days the ferry boats on the Mississippi River got us to the west bank, and we often had to sleep on the levee if we missed the last ferry crossing in Darrow — because the band stayed until the last fans left."
J.B. Castagnos, of Donaldsonville, says, "A friend told me when he was young he would visit his aunt and uncle.
"They had no children, and he said they were very strict and generally intolerant of typical kids' behavior.
"On the way home from one of these visits his brother told him, 'At least they saved two other people from a miserable marriage.'"
Ernie Gremillion tells of a household with only one adult in it:
"A member of our neighborhood website recently posted a notice that her pet chicken had gotten out and asked if anyone had seen it.
"I was in the process of posting 'It was delicious' when my wife caught it and kept me from posting. She has no sense of humor."
Cornell Tramontana says he's "inspired" by Algie Petrere's bad jokes, puns, etc., in the column, and seeks to emulate her with "a bit of this tasteful humor which I saw on the Facebook page of a local restaurant.
"Have you heard about the oyster that went to a disco? It pulled a mussel."
Marvin Borgmeyer has evidently caught the same fever:
"Why did the cows return to the marijuana field?
"It was the pot calling the cattle back!"