On the other hand, my father was a field veterinarian when I was born and a college professor when he retired. He often told me that getting sprayed with a pile of cow crap on a 30 below Wyoming winter morning while performing his job was preferable to some of the faculty meetings that he had to sit through.
Your father was a funny guy and a shrewd observer of academia. I salute him! There was a Scottish author who wrote, in a series of books about a vet with a large animal practice, where cow crap on a cold morning just went with the job.
posted on 04/29/2014 7:01:38 PM PDT
(*The butter acts as a lubricant and speeds up the CPU*ou)
Thanks. My Dad did a little writing in his final years, but gravitated more toward chickens, which can be very interesting critters and a LOT less strenuous than large animals.
posted on 04/30/2014 4:55:52 AM PDT
(Obama: Fake black man. Fake Messiah. Fake American. How many fakes can you fit in one Zer0?)
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