|Joe Friday and his buddy Spike -- just umbel cops, but they always get their man.|
About the author: Punster Extraordinaire John Baxter grew up in Burns, a very small town in the Chalk Bluff country of southeast Wyoming. He used to tell us there was a statue of him there; I think he was joking but I still haven't checked. John started his education in the one-room school in Burns (he and his brother were the only pupils one year), and went on to become Professor of Mycology at the University of Wisconsin in Milwaukee. His other claim to fame was that he was the father-in-law of a Talking Head.
When I met John, he was retired, living in Laramie with wife Jane, and busy with mycology projects at the University. The state biological inventory where I worked was tucked into a corner of the Solheim Mycological Herbarium ... thus our paths were destined to cross. We became very fond of John and his wonderful irrepressible sense of humor. It provided a bit of sunshine to our underfunded under-appreciated existence.
John Baxter passed away August 23, 2002, but he lives on in our memories.
|Burns, Wyoming, at about the time of John Baxter's birth. Original source unknown.|
Guest post by John “Barney” Baxter, sent from parts unknown.
|this guy came in with a pistil ... so I gave him all the cash|
We hoped that Sadie’s change of heartwood mean that she wouldn’t stele anymore. She took us to Pete’s hideout, a sleazy apartment that he had rented from those notorious slumlords, Phil O. Dendron and his wife, Rhoda Dendron. “Culm awn out, Pete,” I yelled, “You ought to see the nice nucellus fellows have for you. Yew won’t pine away -- yew’ll spruce up fir a change when you cedar cell.”
His only anther was to fire a pistil from a window. We let him rachis with fire for awhile, then we broke down the door. He had exhausted his ammunition, and the floor was littered with Brassicaceaes. “Boys” he said, “I’m glad it’s over. I lost my shoes, and mitosis cold.”
|I lost my shoes, and mitosis cold|