All right everyone out there in Blog Land, the Treasury of Laughter is back. Cue the appropriate scene:
Used here under the fair use doctrine for educational purposes. Advance film to about 4:06.
And yeah, if this blog had any audience at all, I’m sure they’d be giving me the same stunned-bunny looks those Lake-Men give Thorin when he pops out of that barrel. But no matter. I’m back, and that’s what counts.
We're back now from a quick trip south, so you burglars who were watching this blog in order to do your burgling as soon as we were gone, neener-neener.
But we came back to about two inches of snow. Now, it wasn't exactly tropical where we went (we voyaged as far south as Payson, Utah) but there's no snow there, the grass is greening and my sister-in-law's daffodils and crocuses were blooming. Heck, even the grain outside of Pocatello is greening. Here, all is white and I had to start a fire in the fireplace because it's just too durned cold here. Oh well. So our return wasn't as greatly anticipated as was Bilbo's return to Hobbiton. It wasn't snowy when he got back. He did have to deal with the Sackville-Bagginses, however.
So you can probably tell I'm not even going to try to match March's all-time record for Blog droppings. Just got a bit enthusiastic. Time will tell if such enthusiasm will continue.
To the City of Idaho Falls: Do what you want with the D Street underpass. Just don't ruin Bilbo's house.
For the vast majority who do not know, D Street in Idaho Falls passes under the Union Pacific Railroad, using an underpass that was built in 1910 (it was installed because horses didn't like crossing the railroad tracks). Because the crossing went below grade to get under the tracks, the city and railroad had to provide for a pump to keep the underpass dry. They housed the pump in this little castle-like building next to the underpass. The underpass was long ago connected to the city storm drains, so the pump and the pumphouse have been idle. But, to me, it's a landmark, and not just because my brother Jeff told me that's where Bilbo Baggins lived. I believed him. Oh, how I believed him. To this day, I can conjure up the picture my seven-year-old mind created of Bilbo inside the little structure, pumping at a water pump so he could have his afternoon tea. (Yes, the Rankin-Bass Bilbo, since I was a big fan (still am, actually) of the cartoon.)
So I'll say it now: Leave Bilbo's House Alone.
Mr. Spock wants you to leave it alone, too. If you don't he'll sing:
Indy and Harry
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We're heavily into many things at our house, as is the case with many
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Here at the End of All Things
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And another book blog is complete.
Oh, Louis Untermeyer includes a final collection of little bits -- several
pages of insults -- but they're nothing I hav...
Here at the End of All Things
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I’ve pondered this entry for a while now. Thought about recapping my
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to roast he...
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Read in 2026
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Mogo's Flute, by Hilda van Stockum. 87 pages.
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Possum that Didn't, The; by Frank Tashlin. 64 pages.
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Relativity: The Special and General Theory, by Albert Einstein. 164 pages
Social Contract, The; by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. 188 pages.
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Three Against Hitler, by Rudi Wobbe and Jerry Borrowman. 164 pages.
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Ze Page Total: 9,726
The Best Part
Jingo, by Terry Pratchett
Jabbar gave him an appraising look.
The sniggering stopped.
"Then it is true that you can see further than most," he said.
"So can this food," said Vimes. "My father told me never to eat anything that can wink back."
There was one of those little hanging-by-a-thread moments, which might suddenly rock one way or the other into a gale of laughter or sudden death.
Then Jabbar slapped Vimes on the back. The eyeball shot off his palm and into the shadows.
"Well done! Extremely good2 first time it have not worked in twenty year! Now sit down and have proper rice and sheep just like mother!"