The laaady with the Flehmen and the stuff and the...

I'm sorry, but I can't quit saying "Flehmen response," after seeing it on Ugly Overload this morning. It sounds like something Jerry Lewis would do, but it's a real phenomenon in the animal kingdom.

Now, the neventy-flavin response, that's pure Lewis.

I'm kinda sheepish about admitting this, but I used to be a huge Lewis fan. Now, before you cross me off the cool list forever, let me explain that "used to be" refers to when I was barely in the double-digit category, age-wise. I'm talking about the era when I'd run to the TV every afternoon to catch "Gilligan's Island," people, so cut me some slack. To a young feller such as myself, Lewis was the pinnacle of funniness.

So, besotted as I was with Lewis, I was pretty much enraptured to see Jerry Lewis' name on a jukebox at a restaurant in Florala, Alabama. (It's right on the Florida-Alabama line, see, so it's Flor-Ala, which I'll admit rolls off the tongue easier than Alaflor, which sounds like a prescription antihistamine.) I can't remember what the restaurant was named, since it's gone through several incarnations over the years, most of them with Dairy in the name, like Dairy-Viscount, Day-Ree-Dreem, etc. It's still there, right near that corner. You know, that corner where that one street intersects that other street. See? Now you remember it.

Anyway, back then, my rule was "When you see Jerry's name, you don't think, you just act." And act I did, somehow begging a dime or nickel (told you it was a while back) from some adult to punch B17, then wait a few seconds while Jerry was cued up. And that's the day I figured out that Jerry Lewis and Jerry Lee Lewis were two completely different people. The world is a cruel place. You want comedy, you get rockabilly.

That shock was almost as bad as when I found the hidden Evel Knievel Stunt Cycle and Van, and figured out that Santa Claus...well, you know. I still don't like to talk about it.

Moving on, the weather service has cancelled the Arkwatch for today, so perhaps we'll have some sun in the sunny South. I know Jacob would appreciate being able to cavort on the back patio/slab.

The little goob pulled off a heck of a trick yesterday afternoon. Mama Dunn was cooking supper, and I was walking through the kitchen when I noticed that he had crawled out of his diaper, while somehow remaining fully snapped into his onesie. As I Tweeted yesterday, that's a cooler trick than a woman taking off her bra without taking her top off, if you ask me. The boy's not yet one year old, and he's already a better magician than David Copperfield, not to mention looking a lot less like Robby Benson, which you can't stress enough, if you ask me.

What's that you say? I haven't posted a weird MP3 in a few days, and the world economy may shut down as a result? How about a selection by another beloved funnyman from my youth, Roger Miller? Here's a sub-two-minute slice of silliness titled "My Uncle Used to Love Me, But She Died."