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So UFO is what we are call it now?? Unidentified Female Object?
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town my sister lived in, niece grew up in was in the news the other day, but it's political, so I won't go to that one. this one is intriguing & still holds true 50 years later

there were 11,000 people in East Hanover Township, NJ according to the 2020 US census, & counting just one cemetery in EH has 81,000 graves

The Living Flock to a Town of the Dead


anyone else know if their town has more people buried there than live there?
 
Our town has a population of 1597. There is only one cemetery. The cemetery population looks to be 7446.

That's a similar ratio. It must be a function of the age of the town.
 
Some years ago we had an owl come down our chimney. I was upstairs and heard a shriek from my wife downstairs. She had heard a noise in the fire place, so went and opened the glass doors. The owl flew out past her head.

It was a small owl, only about 5 inches tall. It was obviously also scared, and I found it hiding behind a couch. I dropped a plastic bucket over it, slid a piece of plywood under the bucket, and took the owl outside to release it.

Brew on :mug:
 
Some years ago we had an owl come down our chimney. I was upstairs and heard a shriek from my wife downstairs. She had heard a noise in the fire place, so went and opened the glass doors. The owl flew out past her head.

It was a small owl, only about 5 inches tall. It was obviously also scared, and I found it hiding behind a couch. I dropped a plastic bucket over it, slid a piece of plywood under the bucket, and took the owl outside to release it.

Brew on :mug:

We've had this history a few years running where birds have nested on the wreath on our front door in spring. Which is sweet to see a bunch of little baby birds hatch and then start their lives. (At least until they all leave for good and I have to clean all the bird $#!+ off the door.) The mama bird of course would always fly away as soon as the door was opened, of course, and then return when we were out of the area.

Well, one night I was going to take the trash out. Apparently mama bird went to flee the nest but headed straight for the light--inside the house. I didn't notice so I went right out to the trash cans. I heard what sounded like people having a party a few houses down, and made my way back inside.

Uhh, yeah. My wife is screaming, she's holding the dog who is freaking out, and tells me "I think Jake [the dog] bit its head off!" So I walk over to where the bird is and it is, of course, intact. And it's freaked out. And the dog is freaked out. And my wife is freaked out. So then I open the front door and the back door, and try to shoo the bird out. Of course, however, it's in a bright area and doesn't understand that "outside" where it is dark is where it's supposed to be. Anyway, eventually we get the bird out of the house and all is well, except for my wife who is "Didn't you hear me screaming! I could have been getting murdered!" Yeah, so that was fun.

Same thing happened the following spring, but with a lot less freak-out involved.

I'm not gonna lie. When we switched to a new wreath recently, and it didn't [so far] attract any birds, I wasn't upset.
 

Adult smokers with mental illness consume the most caffeine in the U.S.


"Adult smokers with mental illness"

a lot of words just to say "navy enlisted"
Some say the U.S. Navy runs on steam. Some say nuclear power. Some say #5 bunker oil.

Those of us who have “been there, done that” know that the Navy runs on coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. Strong, heavy, thick, steaming coffee.

I probably could live without beer, but I doubt I could exist without coffee.
 
Some say the U.S. Navy runs on steam. Some say nuclear power. Some say #5 bunker oil.

Those of us who have “been there, done that” know that the Navy runs on coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. Strong, heavy, thick, steaming coffee.

I probably could live without beer, but I doubt I could exist without coffee.
My Grandpa retired from the navy in the late 70's. To this day he still talks about how bad the Navy's coffee was, way too strong and thick. Now he makes fairly weak Folger's for himself to drink. :D
 
My Grandpa retired from the navy in the late 70's. To this day he still talks about how bad the Navy's coffee was, way too strong and thick. Now he makes fairly weak Folger's for himself to drink. :D
1969 I was a 3rd Class Midshipman aboard the USS New Jersey, BB-62. My duty station was on the O4 signal bridge, led by a crusty old First Class Petty Officer as the LPO. During a mid-morning sweep down, the LPO tasked me with filling the 50 cup percolator coffee pot with water from a nearby scuttlebutt (‘spigot’, for all you land lubbers or erstwhile members of the Army and/or ‘Chair Force’).

Anyway, with a cleaning Field Day in progress and a bunch of coffee-starved sailors in need of caffeine, the pressure was on me to carry out the task of filling this urn Ricky-tick. But many of the normal passageways and ladderways (stairs and halls) were secured (closed) for cleaning.

After searching in vain for a source of water, I finally found a water valve on an open deck and proceeded to fill the large coffee pot and haul it back up to the signal bridge. Carefully the huge coffee maker’s basket was filled with fresh grounds, and the long percolation process was begun.

Finally, following a seemingly never-ending wait, the nectar was finally ready for consumption. The crusty Leading Petty Officer strode up to the pot, drew off a slug of ‘Joe’ and took a first sip. Immediately a look of disgust came across his face as he spit out a mouthful of unconsumable witches brew.

Seems like the water spigot I’d found was not fresh water, but rather a salt water wash down spigot! Needless to say, I was never again tasked with filling the coffee maker.
 
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1969 I was a 3rd Class Midshipman aboard the USS New Jersey, BB-62. My duty station was on the O4 signal bridge, led by a crusty old First Class Petty Officer as the LPO. During a mid-morning sweep down, the LPO tasked me with filling the 50 cup percolator coffee pot with water from a nearby scuttlebutt (‘spigot’, for all you land lubbers or erstwhile members of the Army and/or ‘Chair Force’).

Anyway, with a cleaning Field Day in progress and a bunch of coffee-starved sailors in need of caffeine, the pressure was on me to carry out the task of filling this urn Ricky-tick. But many of the normal passageways and ladderways (stairs and halls) were secured (closed) for cleaning.

After searching in vain for a source of water, I finally found a water valve on an open deck and proceeded to fill the large coffee pot and haul it back up to the signal bridge. Carefully the huge coffee maker’s basket was filled with fresh grounds, and the long percolation process was begun.

Finally, following a seemingly never-ending wait, the nectar was finally ready for consumption. The crusty Leading Petty Officer strode up to the pot, drew off a slug of ‘Joe’ and took a first sip. Immediately a look of disgust came across his face as he spit out a mouthful of unconsumable witches brew.

Seems like the water spigot I’d found was not fresh water, but rather a salt water wash down spigot! Needless to say, I was never again tasked with filling the coffee maker.
Now that's a good story.
 
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