Posted on 09/29/2006 11:09:26 AM PDT by rock_lobsta
You pretty much have to land the palne when something's out of Gere...
I think that's an urban legend.
True. Didn't a British Airways 747 fly across the pond with a dead engine recently?
We were standing on a dock waiting for a boat to take us on a summer trip. Vanessa, the scientist, had packed all her animals including her favorite hamster. Our over-zealous golden retriever got tangled in his leash and knocked the hamster cage off the dock. We watched as Licorice, the unlucky hamster bubbled down to a watery doom. That might have been the end of the story. But my dad jumped in, grabbed an oar, fished the cage from the water, hunched over the soggy hamster and began to administer CPR. There were some reports of mouth-to-mouth, but, I admit that's probably a trick of memory. He was never quite right after that, but Licorice lived. Like I said, it may sound silly. We still laugh about it today. But, to us it was serious and that's what mattered to my father.And now, the hamster's story (from http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/1182240/posts)
My name is Licorice, and I am a hamster.
I have never shared my story before because, frankly, sometimes all a hamster has is his privacy. Thursday night, however, Alexandra Kerry described the circumstances of my rescue by her father after I had fallen off a pier in Massachusetts.
I have come forward now to set the record straight.
I was the hamster of Alexandra's sister, Vanessa, and she, on balance, was a good person, although a bit of a tickler. On this occasion, as the family gathered on the pier to depart for a vacation, somebody - I'm not saying it was Alexandra; I'm not saying it was on purpose - "bumped" my cage, and the next thing I knew, I was in the water and sinking fast.
I saw my whole life pass before my eyes. My life has not been all that interesting, so it wasn't exactly like watching "The Godfather I and II." I mean, I'm a hamster. I could see a bright light, but I seemed to be on a wheel that rotated as I ran, so I never got any closer. But I was aware of a shining, all-loving divine rodent presence telling me: "It's not time yet. You have more to do on earth."
"Like what?" I asked, but I could already feel myself back in my body, could feel strong hands yanking open my cage and pulling me upward to safety.
Yes, it was John Kerry. Help was on the way. Yes, he did perform CPR. Yes, he did perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. There is no doubt that I owe him my life. On the other hand, the water went up to his chest, O.K.? I mean, this wasn't exactly PT-109.
It's also true that I wound up suing the family. I have continuing health problems, including a partial paralysis on my right side that makes it difficult for me to drink out of a regular water bottle. And let's just say there aren't going to be any Licorice Jr.'s. One of the small pleasures of hamster life denied.
There was a settlement. I can't talk about it. I got enough to pay for a daily home health aide.
How do I feel about John Kerry? Mainly, I'm grateful he wasn't married to that Heinz woman when this happened. You think she would have allowed him to jump in the water in his J. Press poplin slacks? Food pellets wouldn't melt in her mouth. I'd have drowned and been eaten by lobsters.
And I'm glad I wasn't a Bush family pet. Their hamsters probably have to rescue them, from the looks of things.
I might wind up speaking at the Republican convention, though. I'm opposed to stem cell research. With any kind of research, hamsters always wind up taking it right on the chin. And we barely even have chins.
Every week there is another story proving what pussies Europeans are. It reminds me of an incident at a San Francisco restaurant where some friends of mine worked. It was after closing and the staff was cleaning up. A rat came out of nowhere and started running around. Everyone freaked and stood helplessly, spazzing out, except for my friend who was one of the line cooks who happened to be from Kentucky. He deliberately cornered the rat and then stomped it to death with his boot. Everyone was stunned (and a couple were horrified at his "cruelty"). He calmly went back to his beer, leaving the rat there where it met its end. Someone asked whether he was just going to leave it there and he just said "Yep" and kept sipping. They talked about that night forever, always the theme being what a primitive he was. He didn't care.
I'd be glad to this applied to terrorists. Corner them, stomp them to death, and let others dispose of the bodies as they wished.
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