I was helping my neighbor dig last summer and you know what we found?
Rocks.
These weren’t any of those new-fangled rocks.
These rocks had to be fifty, sixty years old.
One rock looked like somebody had chipped it.
It was me.
Dang near hit my toe with that pick.
I sent it to the university.
They sent it back with a note asking if it fell out of my head.
Oh no, you’ve disturbed a cache of Native American throwing stones...
The Flintstones is what inspired me to want to take up archaeology. Or maybe it was what inspired me to work at a rib joint, I dunno.