June’s Mystery Hour show is this Friday night! It is the Season Finale! Of Season 3?! That is crazy. Here’s the info——————->>>>>>
Here’s a picture of the original show nearly three years ago.
Speaking of landmarks, we passed the 1,000 hit mark since we started the website 3 weeks ago. Booyah. Sorry about the ‘booyah’ part I just wrote.
Yesterday, I asked: What was the name of your fourth grade teacher?
I am selecting Grant’s suggestion:
“Mrs. Comstock was my fourth grade teacher. She had an identical twin, and when I saw her twin around town, I always wondered why “my teacher” didn’t know who I was.”
Thank you for the suggestion, Grant. Allan, another good comment, with good details and emotion, but I had to select Grant’s suggestion. Because. Because. I don’t need a reason, I’m your father. Because I said so. How’s that?
It is just plain weird to see your teacher outside of school when you’re in elementary school. In the child’s mind they stay at school on the cot in the nurse’s office. I spent time on the nurse’s cot three times. One, when I broke my wrist and had a bloody face and had to wait for my mom to arrive to drive me to the doctor. Two, when I peed my pants in the library (the only carpeted room in the building) and I had to wait for my mom to arrive to bring me a new pair of shorts. Three, when a stray tiger followed me to school and ate four second graders and I had to wait for the cops to arrive to read me my Miranda rights. One of those is made up.
What I find even weirder is being an adult and knowing teachers now. I had always thought that they were perfect. Except for the 5th grade German class substitute who had her fly down on her white pants the whole time. Silly subs. But teachers are not perfect, they drink, they smoke, they swear, they are unruly when in an audience, and they gamble illegally on underground possum fighting. They basically do all the things they tell students not to do. This came as a shock to me. I had known for awhile that of course they are just normal people, but I thought normal, like still really good normal. Nope, according to a Reuters 78% of all violent crime is done by teachers. I know, it shocked me too.
Grant, your suggestion is full of good stuff. My wife is an identical twin. People’s first reaction is always, “Have you ever kissed the wrong one?” My answer is “No. What’s wrong with you? Can I just have my McFlurry?” There is always a big mystique surrounding twins. Can they communicate through ESP? Do they feel things the other one is feeling? Do they ever trick anybody and pretend like the other person? The only mystique with twins as far as I can tell is that people are afraid to approach them because they don’t want to get the name wrong. When I say people in that scenario, I specifically mean me. I will avoid twins like I avoid “Gossip Girl” just because I hate hate hate getting names wrong.
There were a few sets of twins in my high school. One set each got a perfect on the SAT. One set had the last name Triplett, oddly enough. One set I never ever knew which one I was talking to so I just learned to never speak to them. From what I could tell they are very nice girls. Their names are Agra and Venice. They are very nice and sweet and talented, yet my fear of getting a name wrong outweighed my fear getting to know Agravenice. If you say that fast it sounds like an off brand men’s cologne A-Grav-enice. But, here’s what I found out. People say the wrong name to my wife all the time. It’s no big deal to twins.
So, life lesson of the day is say hello to twins, even if you aren’t sure which one they are, unless of course they’re teachers. Then you should run. They is violent sons of guns.
Next prompt: What is a brief summary of your latest dream?