Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Zee Burglaire of Banf-f-f-f has returned.

Something turned up missing the other day. I knew it was gone and had already made a mental note to replace it. My shipmate noticed the item was gone and asked me rhetorically where it went.

"I think he were robbed by Zee Burglaire of Banf-f-f," I replied.

He's an old salt and grinned. "I haven't heard about him in eons," he replied.

The younger guy furrowed his brows and thought. "I've heard of him and I can't remember where I heard of him," he said.

With a deadpan straight face, my shipate replied that he used to work out west somewhere but it looks like he's working around here these days.

The youngster furrowed his brows. Then his face showed understanding. "You guys," he said. "How do you remember all of that crap?"

Zee Burglaire of Banff-f-f-f

I don't know how I remember things from my childhood but I do. It's stuff like what I had for breakfast that seems to elude me constantly.

What is interesting is that there are a boatload of 60 something year old men that have not heard or thought of Ze Burglaire of Banf-f-f-f in decades but if you bring it up they will all say, "Ze Burglaire of Banf-f-f-f" out loud with a big grin on their faces.

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY

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