I had a father-in-law that was small in stature. He was solicited to transfer from the army to the army air corp. He turned it down because he didn’t want to become a ball turret gunner. He slogged ashore at Normandy instead.
I seem to remember Dave Winfield, then with the Yankees, having an arrest warrant issued to him for killing a pigeon with a throw from center field while playing in Toronto against the Blue Jays.
Beware of the Blob!
It leaps and creeps
And slides and glides
Across the floor.
Right through the door
And all around the room.
A splotch, a blotch.
Be of careful of the Blob!
Its Howdy Doody time.
It isn’t worth a dime.
It looks like Frankenstein,
And smells like turpentine.
There’s ole Buffalo Bob.
He can eat a cobb.
As for Clarabelle,
He can go to hell.
I’ve always been amazed that Murphy would make a war movie. My dad saw combat in the South Pacific during WWII and would not talk of it. His stories were only about his buddies and funny stuff.
Proud to say that I was working at Manned Spacecraft Center (later Johnson) during the Apollo program. We’ve been there. Nothing there. No reason to go back. Enormous waste of money.
When I was a kid (long before velcro) we threw cockle burrs at each other. They stuck to clothing. I never bothered to examine them and see the tiny hooks but you could pinch them between you fingers and they did not penetrate the skin.