Dear Tubby,
After being the butt-end of your endless Hoosier jokes and never able to muster up an equally witty or clever comeback, I am chagrined and resigned to the prospect that I will never be your equal in making light of Kentuckians, as you are extracting laughs at mine and my fellow Hoosiers' expense. You are the King.
Tubby, my dear Bluegrass friend, this epiphany came to me as a calamity of events unfolded as I met with your fellow Kentuckian and our mutual friend "Dutch" Foster for lunch at a steakhouse on the Indiana and Kentucky state line.
Dutch and I ordered our meal and I deftly manipulated the conversation to the events of the day when I asked very seriously and with a sense of amazement, "So Dutch, did you hear what they discovered on surface of Mars?"
"No", he asked rather inquisitively.
"Well, after equipping the Hubbell telescope with three Bray supercomputers, and complex computer software, they had in great detail digitized the entire surface of the planet Mars...and made a startling discovery."
"What?", he asked rather impatiently.
"It was quite distinctive. Plain as day."
"What?", Dutch now demanded.
"There, on the surface of Mars - - was an old pick-up truck - - with 1997 Kentucky license plates...looking for Toyota"
Now, Tubby, this was the to be the part of the plot where I would have had a well deserved laugh at your and Dutch's expense. But that didn't happen because before I could get a "ha-ha" out of my mouth, a burly, surly, Mike Dikta-looking fellow, stepped up to the table and angrily said, "Me and my family has lived in Kentucky since the days of Andrew Jackson and I don't see one thing funny about your little joke."
"Look here Mr. Steakhouse-brawler," I said with a false confidence, " I wasn't talking to you, and quite frankly, it is none of your business... so If you'll just move along..." and at this point he leared at me in a Love-child-from-the-movie-Deliverance sort of way and said, "I got something in the truck waitin' for you...juusssssst waitin'. I'll see you in the parking lot little Hoosier man"
It sunk heavily into me that I had missed a golden opportunity to keep my mouth shut, but I quickly analyzed the situation and realized I had the element of time on my side. Yes, Tubby, time would save me! He was leaving and I was just starting to eat, and surely he would become bored waiting for me in the parking lot...and hopefully move on.
I ate slowly. Very slowly. I went back to the salad bar twice, built an elaborate ice cream sundae, dawdled at every chance, read the newspaper from front to back, every comic, every obituary, and finally determined the coast must be clear. I paid my bill and left.
And then, much to my horror, in the parking lot, was this still very perturbed and offended Kentucky fellow, leaning against his truck and menacingly waving in a back-and-forth slashing motion...... a razor!!.
A Razor!!
For a moment, Tubby, I was in complete terror,.... but then ...very much to my relief,.... I saw there was no electrical outlet for him to plug it in.
Hoosier Regards,
Harvey
