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Date:         Mon, 9 Jun 2014 22:54:22 -0500
Reply-To:     JRodgers <jrodgers113@GMAIL.COM>
Sender:       Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@gerry.vanagon.com>
From:         JRodgers <jrodgers113@GMAIL.COM>
Subject:      Re: Horton Hears a Hiss--gleaned from the bathroom walls of
              Felder Indusries
Comments: To: Jim Felder <jim.felder@GMAIL.COM>
In-Reply-To:  <CAFnDXk3ty4_yk2R=TKntpqxsEReNA964eJQnFLY5242kjNWA5A@mail.gmail.com>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=UTF-8; format=flowed

We have a new LIST Laureate! Nicely done Unca Jim!

John

On 6/9/2014 6:38 PM, Jim Felder wrote: > At Felder Industries, we all wear many hats. I recently broke short a > design session, where we were attempting to increase the complexity and > cost of an outdoor lantern holder for the Westy, to examine for myself the > situation in our Men’s Room, of which many complaints have come to my > recent attention. I will not delve into the outcome of my visit, to turn a > pun, but I was bemused by a rhyme I found written on one of the stalls in > the style of a popular children’s author whom I cannot place exactly. Maybe > Mark Twain? > > > I thought I would share this before the employee who wrote it—a chap with > entirely too much time on his hands at the expense of yours truly—is made > to scour it off. > > > We at Felder Industries hope that it elicits the mirth among the Vanagon > faithful as it did among those who toil so relentlessly for them. > > > *Broken Things Are Everywhere* > > > Hop. > > > Hop on top. > > > Hop on top, said Mom to Pop. > > > I cannot do that now, said Pop. > > > I have to go into my shop. > > > I cannot do that right now, Mom. > > > I’m working on my Vanagon. > > > ——————————————- > > > This never stops, said Mom to Pop. > > > You work, work, work, work, work, work, work, > > > Then hear a ping, or poof, or WHOP! > > > Heater valve or Westy top, > > > A zip, or rip, or flip or flop. > > > We never go, we only stay. > > > Our vacations are delays! > > > The burning insulation’s shot! > > > These seats are ugly! They look awful! > > > And they smell just like Falafel. > > > Another smell much like like a wok > > > Is coming from behind the clock. > > > The sweet perfume of antifreeze > > > Will cause the trees to drop their leaves > > > If it’s not stopped! > > > And yet you say it can’t be fixed > > > Till you return it to the hicks > > > That weld upon it in the sticks. > > > The driveway’s flooded—thanks a lot! > > > It’s all a dusty, rusty rot. > > > I’m tired of this, go find a cot. > > > ———————————————— > > > Why won’t it start? Why won’t it start? > > > We should be driving to the park. > > > The heat is cold. The lights are dark. > > > Just replacing every part > > > Should make it start. But yet > > > It won’t. I want to cry. > > > But yet I don’t. Those tears are not > > >>From sadness but from parts so hot… > > > What could be the cause of this? > > > I do not know. > > > Go ask the List. > > >>From there to here > > >>From here to there > > > Broken things are everywhere! > > > ————- > > > Every weekend I have shown it: > > > If it works I do not own it. > > > I can’t afford the things that work. > > > I only work where gremlins lurk. > > > I buy on eBay from a man > > > Who has a rusty salvage van > > > With a rating now of three > > > And all his sales are thanks to me, > > > With parts no better than the ones > > > With which I’m having all my fun. > > > I promise that I will not buy > > >>From him again. But it’s a lie. > > > I need so much, but cannot purchase > > > Good parts to raise this van from worthless. > > > All that work. What have I missed? > > > I do not know. Go ask the List. > > >>From there to here, from here to there, > > > Broken things are everywhere. > > > ————————————— > > > > All our money goes for tools > > > and cleanup where the motor drools. > > > Where oil and water mix in pools. > > > It does not work. I do not learn. > > > I’d rather see our money burn > > > Than let the dealer have a turn. > > > But that would take more than I earn. > > > The dealer knows but will not say > > > He would not touch it anyway. > > > Holy cow! We have brakes—Oh No! > > > That means the clutch is next to blow. > > > The two are worked together so, > > > If you fix one, the other goes. > > > Oh, no, it did not start with me! > > > That plan was hatched in Germany. > > > But now it runs. What was that hiss? > > > Stinky steam or piston mist? > > > I do not know. Go ask the List. > > >>From there to here, from here to there, > > > Broken things are everywhere. > > > ——————————- > > > See me underneath the car? > > > Hurling tools and curses far? > > > Do you see my arms with scars? > > > I’m soaking wet! > > > I’m oily-oiled. My dreams are smashed. > > > My plans are foiled. > > > I cannot see. My yard is soiled. > > > And not with dirt that flowers grow in, > > > But with things you cannot go in. > > > Nowhere is it safe to mow in. > > > Turn up the sound! Where is the knob? > > > The neighbors cannot hear me sob. > > > They must not, should not hear the throb. > > > I cannot let them hear me so, > > > Whose yard is stacked around with parts > > > In plastic bins and garden carts, > > > Not to mention row on row > > > Of Vanagons that will not go. > > > They think I am a fool, I know > > > I do not let on that it’s so. > > >>From there to here, and here to there, > > > Broken things are everywhere. > > >>From everywhere and everyone, > > > Broken parts of Vanagons. > > > I will not live to see them run > > > or ever have the funny fun > > > I imagined that I *would* have > > > in the Vanagon I *could* have. > > > —————————————— > > > I heard somewhere that there is one > > > That always runs, and runs and runs. > > > All day long, and hour on hour > > > it conquers hills with lots of power, > > > With sensors Oil, Temp 2 and Hall > > > That never heard the rollback’s call. > > > It runs as quiet as a mouse > > > And costs more money than a house. > > > But I am stuck with what I own. > > > I shake my head. I cringe. I moan! > > > My children smirk. My wife berates > > > As my van coughs and hesitates > > > Before retuning to its berth. > > > I try to calculate its worth > > > In windshield, bumpers, tach and parts > > > But when I do, that’s when it starts. > > > It starts and runs, it runs and starts! > > > Come, honey and come, kids! Run! > > > Let’s hit the road, let’s have our fun! > > > Hooray, hooray, my work is done! > > > Now it’s time to go, and play, > > > With spares and tools and Triple-A, > > > The German monster’s underway! > > > What’s sounding like a pounding fist? > > > I do not know. Go ask the List. > > >>From there to here, from here to there, > > > Broken things are everywhere. > . >


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