Childhood Memories

What a let down. Here I was thinking that, on top of all your other achievements, you were an Olympic swimmer as well with an unusually low drag coefficient.I grew up in a small ghost town in Southern Ontario with about 16 dead people for every living person. There were 2 churches, 3 cemeteries, a 3 room schoolhouse and a stop sign. There were 6 of us kids and we could be accurately described as a roving band of hooligans.The churches and schoolhouse roofs provided an excellent location to hurl apples (from the adjacent orchards) down on unsuspecting motorists who had to stop for the intersection or for our 180lb Newfoundland dog (Schooner was his name) who used to sleep on the warm tarmac in the middle of the road. Never got caught once. Not even when we dropped a pumpkin on some poor bastards hood from about 30ft up.Another source of amusement was hurling insults at the catholic school kids whose bus came by before ours. I remember my oldest brother filled up a squirt bottle with urine and sprayed the faces of the catholic kids who were swearing at us as they went by. That one had some repercussions.When I was about 7 my mom accidentally poured water on our tv and wrecked it. Dad said we didn't really need one anyway and so it was books for the next few years. The house was full of them. C.S. Forester's Hornblower series really had me captured and I have loved to read ever since.Then we were teenagers, licensed to drive and all hell broke loose. It is truly miraculous that none of us were killed.So Dr A, my anecdotes are true. Why don't you tell us about yourself. Where did you get that flimsy wit of yours?

Flimsy? I think it means floppy and limp. Generally not up to the task and prone to bending under pressure. The exact opposite to your obviously razor sharp mind.It was sarcasm and I thought that it would provide a chuckle. I am surprised that you missed it.My apologies.There is plenty about my childhood that I choose not to dwell on but there were some good things too. For example my alcoholic uncle slapped my mother one time when my dad wasn't around. My 3 older brothers aged 12, 14 and 16 commenced to beat the living shit out of him. I learned a lot from that episode.

Ah, I see. You are saying that I should have referred to you as dim witted.

Well now that I have brought you up to speed feel free to carry on. I will probably enjoy it as much as you.