Bunny Snacking


The purchase of some “Green Goddess” salad dressing lead me inevitably to looking up Annie’s Homegrown — they make those organic Macaroni and Cheese packages with the cute pictures of bunnies all over them — on Wikipedia. Their symbol on the stock exchange is BNNY, and isn’t that adorable? So anyway besides learning about their various corporate takeovers and food recalls was this recent bit of corporate news:

On April 3, 2014 Annie’s opened their doors to their first bakery manufacturing plant purchased from Safeway Inc. located in Joplin, Missouri, that currently has an estimated 100 employees. [53079]

So I took that sentence to my seventh-grade English teacher, the one who made me, as best I can determine, the latest-born person to ever learn how to diagram sentences. She examined this soggy pile of words and explained that the “53079” is the ASCAP registration number, used to sort out royalties for when the sentence is played over the radio, so I’m glad to have that straightened out.

Robert Benchley: The Editor’s Drawer


[ I offer here another piece from Robert Benchley’s Of All Things, as I’m embarrassed to admit I didn’t have the time to prepare something wholly my own. Please don’t tell Mr Benchley. But this offers a neat send-up of the sorts of cute little kid anecdotes that I assume still line the pages of magazines I don’t read because I think they carry items like what this parodies. ]

LITTLE Bobby, aged five, saying his prayers, had come to that most critical of diplomatic crises : the naming of relatives to be blessed.

“Why don’t I ask God to bless Aunt Mabel?” he queried, looking up with a roguish twinkle in his blue eyes.

“But you do, Bobby,” answered his mother.

“So I do,” was his prompt reply.


LITTLE Willy, aged seven, was asked by his teacher to define the word “confuse.”

“ ` Confuse’ is what my daddy says when he looks at his watch,” said Willy. The teacher never asked that question again. At least, not of Willy.


LITTLE Gertrude, aged three, was saying her prayers. “Is God everywhere ?” she asked.

“Yes, dear, everywhere,” answered her mother.

“Everywhere?” she persisted.

“Yes, dear, everywhere,” repeated her mother, all unsuspecting.

“Then He must be like Uncle Ned,” said the
little tot.

“Why, Gertrude, what makes you say that?”

“Because I heard Daddy say that Uncle Ned was everywhere,” was the astounding reply.