[meteorite-list] Re: Meteor-doubtful (once more)

[Jerry A. Wallace]

Folks,

Well, I figure most of you wish this deal would go away...but, since the auction's
still open, I figure it's still 'in play'. It'll all be laid to rest soon enough, I suspect, but
for now, we can still kick a live mule. (And besides that- I didn't start it!)

First, for any of you that are still interested at all, you should check back on the auction
webpage. It seems that several folks have done went and caused 'handcannon444'
to become highly irritable. Turns out that someone has threatened to report him to the
"METEORITE POLICE" and he sure as heck ain't taking kindly to those sorts of threats.
HandCannon has added an addendum to the auction webpage that you really need to read.
I won't post it here for fear of lawsuits and/or 44mag bullets flying my direction. I don't
think you could pay somebody to make up nonsense any more outrageous than what he
has written. By implication, 'HC' (HandCannon) tells us that one of the rules for bidding
on his auction is that the bidder must have one eye covered and the other tightly shut
when viewing any details or photos on his auction page. It's hilarious!!!

You guilty parties out there (and you know who you are) need to quit aggravating that
'budding entrepreneur' like that!!! :-D

Second, after posting my letter last night, I layed down in bed and began to think on it some
more. I got to thinking about the picture of the 'object' once again and got back up and took
another 'blown up' view of it. The surface of the object has a fairly 'ratty' look to it. So, if
you would, bear with me through this scenario...

Picture this in your mind...

California farm folk didn't have a heckuva lot to do back in the mid-thirties except to raise
their meager crops and sit on the front porch in their rockers on Sunday afternoons, resting
and passing the time waiting for the Grand Ole Opry to play on their radios come evening.
And they would wonder how their brethren were subsisting in the 'dust bowl' drought that
had gripped the mid-west states; wonder they would, of course, at least about the brethren
that hadn't already packed up and moved to California, some of them stopping to look for
work at Grandpa's farm. These were the days that were some 30 years before TV's became
fairly common household items, and some 65 years before computers would wind their evil
ways into becoming a daily activity for many. So you see, back then there wasn't a whole lot
for a farmer to do on a nice Sunday afternoon but to sit and let the mind wander and let the
women folk go about their chores of preparing meals and washing dishes.

Grandpa is sitting in his rocker on the front porch of his farmhouse, back in the mid '30's,
sipping his fresh lemonade, spiked with a hefty splash of Old Crow, staring blankly at that
blasted rock lying on the table in front of him. He gradually focuses on the chink knocked
off of the corner of that devilish chunk of sky rock that destroyed his barn some years earlier,
and begins to realize that the inside of the rock is so much prettier than the outside- that is
mostly covered with that ugly dark brown crust.

Grandpa is thus inspired to remedy the situation, and saunters off to the new barn to get his
cold chisel and ballpeen hammer. When he returns, he sets upon his newfound task with great
gusto, and in a short while the table and porch floor under the table are covered with chips of
that nasty looking crust. The whole scene has been observed by Grandma, who has been
sitting silently across from him, giving him dirty looks, all the while knowing that the old fool
never cleans up his messes. She grunts as she finally rises from her rocker to go into the house
to get the broom and dust pan. When she comes back to the porch, she finds Grandpa
standing, holding the newly transformed sky rock, and grinning like the old fool that she thinks
he is. "Well, by gum," he tells her, " that cleaned up to look pretty nice. Think I'll keep it on the
chesterdrawers in the bedroom." As Grandpa wanders into the house to find a new home for
his prize, Grandma finishes the last half of his lemonade cocktail and sets about cleaning up the
old fool's mess.
________________________

Coulda happened that way. Who knows??? And if not in this instance, perhaps others.

Jerry




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