Rick Ranson

“Hey! What’s that disease makes you afraid of heights?”
“Aracnaphobia?”
“Naw, that’s the fear of ants.”
“Kleptnomania?”
“Naw, that’s the fear of stealing.”
“Paul’s got that. He’s steal the pennies offa dead man’s eyes.”
“I know! I know! There was an Alfred Hitchkopp movie about that!”
“Oh yeah. They hang from their fingernails from Mount Rushedmore.”
“Hey there’s Robbie the Apprentice, he’ll know.”
“Robbie! What’s that Alfred Hitchcopp movie about falling.”
“Vertigo. 1952. Kim Novak starred in it.”
“Yeah! That’s why Terry can’t climb. He’s got vertigo!”

 

“You know, you are an interesting guy. You are a native, commercial fisherman, Journeyman Boilermaker, and a trained hypnotist.”
“That’s nothing, you should meet my buddy. He’s an exorcist. Did it for ten years. Had to give it up though, it was too hard on him.”
“What, too many ghosts in the closet?”
“How’d you know?”

“I was driving down a country road and a duck flew up and cracked the windshield. So I drove the truck into the Insurance Claims Department.
The Adjuster took one look at it and said.”
‘That’s not an animal hit; that’s been done by a rock or something sharp. The crack pattern in the windshield is too defined. The cracks all radiate out from one spot.’
“Too sharp?”
“Yeah, too defined. like it was hit by something pointed. I can’t allow that.”
“It was a duck! Maybe he had a rock in his pocket but it was just a duck!”

“My buddy was doing time at the local Pen. So he and a couple of other inmates decided that they would do the perfect heist. They all had been inside for a while so they requested individual day passes and would come into town and case out places to hit. They would come back to the pen after their pass and report what they had found to the other guys.”
“So the day of the planned heist for the first time they all requested day passes from the Pen together.”
“The job went like clockwork. First, they got a pretty good haul from a jewelry store. Then they jumped into a stolen car they had waiting. Next they drove out of the city to where a second stolen car was hidden under the trees in an empty field.
“They parked the first car under some trees and started running across the field with all their loot, to where the second car was.”
“Right into the arms of a whole platoon of cops who had decided to train their police dogs in that field, on that day, at that exact time.”

 

Woman Welder
“When I was just about to divorce my husband I’d wait until he was asleep and then quietly reach over and pluck one hair out of his beard. He’d wake up, think it was a mosquito and swat it. I could keep him half awake for hours. He’d always get a terrible sleep.”
You notice I didn’t say she was a nice woman welder.

Two trappers were talking …
“If you kill a magpie or two and leave them hanging by your kill the other animals won’t go near your kill.”
“Same as Crows or Ravens.”
“I guess the animals figure that if whatever killed those magpies and your animal is still around I’m sure as Hell not going to eat it.”

‘Three hots and a cot.’ Convict expression meaning three meals a day and a bed.
Or ‘Doing time.’

Ah, the priceless things you learn in a northern construction camp.

It’s bad luck to talk about your next book. But seeing as I didn’t win yesterday’s $35,000,000 Lotto anyway I’m going to do it.

I’m half way through a book about my Grandmother coming to Winnipeg and all the crazies that lived here a hundred odd years ago. The story is filled with gossipy anecdotes and scandal laced chapters so that (for want of a title) I’m calling it The Coronation Street History of Winnipeg. Guaranteed this next book won’t be taught in any classroom.

For example one chapter is about the man who was the first to build a store right out in the middle of the bald prairie  away from the safety of the fort. He and his half brother built right on the crossroads of what was called The Portage Trail, and The Main Road. Which today is downtown Winnipeg. But he was the first.

Just to make sure everybody knows about this guy I’m calling this chapter…

Henry McKenney Was Crazier Than A Shithouse Rat!

 

First Biker
“I was riding my Heritage and got a bumble bee up my nose. I blew and blew, but I couldn’t get it out. So grabbed it with my fingers and threw it away. But it stung me up my nose – right up my nose. Jeez it took about three hours for the thing to stop stinging.”

Second Biker
“Never mind, I got hit by a seagull.”

Third Biker
“I got hit by a couple of hornets and couldn’t stop. So I drove until I could get off the road and stop. All the while those hornets are stinging me. There were four or five huge welts on my back when I finally was able to take off my shirt.”

Fourth Biker
“Never mind I was driving in the hills in Maine and I come around the corner and there was a long line of cars stopped on the highway. Turns out they were stopped for a family of turkeys crossing the road. By the time I saw them I couldn’t stop.

I drove right through that family of turkeys. I looked in my rear view mirror and there were a couple of turkeys flopping around on the highway. But I couldn’t stop. I guess I must have perpetrated the biker stereotype.”