Talk of the Town Ernie Anderson

Poop ball
As some of you may know, a potentially record-setting poop ball was recently removed from the hindquarters of one of my cats. I’m so proud of that accomplishment, you’d think it was my own. I have the X-ray and everything, fit for framing. What I DON’T have is the poop ball itself, so I have no way of approaching the good people of Guinness World Records to see if we really have something historic on our hands. Do those things come with cash prizes? Because I could sure use a little something to offset the veterinarian bill. That bill was the only thing more astounding than the poop ball itself, and that’s saying a lot.

Deep frowns and hovering fingers
Heh. This poop ball business has been the gift that keeps on giving. I just KNOW that as I write, a frowning editor is sitting with his fingers hovering over the delete button as he frantically debates whether “poop ball” is fit for a family newspaper. In my defense, it was the very term used by the veterinarian himself, so it must be proper medical jargon. If it helps, concerned editor, I shall translate it into Latin. Behold, my friends, the record-setting puppis pila, which any day now is going to earn me a big, fat check.

Adjust your playlist accordingly
I get so melancholy this time of year, there are several common songs I can no longer listen to, lest they shove me right over the edge and leave me weeping openly in public. After mid-August, I will go out of my way to avoid “Boys of Summer” by Don Henley; “Summer’s Almost Gone” by the Doors; “California Dreamin'” by the Mamas and the Papas, and “Summertime” by The Sundays. Also anything by Steve Miller, but that’s mainly because I cannot stand Steve Miller no matter what time of year it is.

Your vote matters
Kamala Harris and Tim Walz continue to inundate my inbox with note after note begging me for money and support, and not once have they asked about the health of my cat. The guy from the other side, meanwhile, hasn’t written me at all, so I guess he has plenty of dough and doesn’t need any support from me. Not that he’d get any — I ain’t voting for any of them. I’m going to write in Puppis Pila for President and maybe get some yard signs printed up. Let’s make it happen, people. In your hearts, you have to know that it would be an improvement.

Such great heights
You know, in the woods of Winthrop, if you hike to the summit of Mount Pisgah, you’ll be treated to a 60-foot fire tower that can be climbed all the way to the top. The views are amazing! Views of the tower from the ground, I mean. I didn’t climb it. Do I look crazy to you? Someone had to stay down below to get pictures of the elderly women, toddlers and show-off wives who climbed the tower. When you get right down to it, I was pretty heroic out there.