We'll never run out

Over the years, we Americans have faced shortages with bravery and strength and kindness and resolution.  During World War II, food and metal and gasoline were needed for the war effort, so those items were rationed to make sure that everyone got no more than what they needed.

In the 1970s, owing to global politics, we faced a gasoline shortage in '74 and '79 that we dealt with by paying through the nose for gas after lining up to get it.  And suddenly, the oil companies felt no need to hand us a coffee mug or stuffed animal or deck of cards to get us to fill up at their station.   

I even remember Exxon running an ad justifying the huge price increase for gasoline by pointing out that catsup was much more expensive by the gallon than their gasoline, as if we needed to purchase catsup by the gallon anymore since the Exxon station down on the corner no longer hands out hot dogs with every tankful.

Now they are saying that this year's pumpkin crop will be a little short, and once the demand (?) for pumpkin pie filling is met, don't look for any can can can of Libby's Libby's Libby's pumpkin until next year.  This will mean more blueberry, cherry and lemon pies for me, so this is a plus.

One thing that we as proud Americans can count on forever is that we will not have a shortage of horse's patooties among us. You saw one the other day, driving a car with a shot suspension and a bumper sticker reading "My kid can beat up your honor student."  They are everywhere at the supermarket, elbowing their way into the express line with 47 items bulging out of their cart, and running their cart into your ankle just because they are in such a hurry.

And they attend ball games.  And they jump out of the stands and run onto the field, like this bozo the other night during the Sunday Night Football game with the Giants and the 49ers.  He was wearing a red jersey in 49ers colors, and as he made his way around the field, half a dozen New Jersey state troopers rounded him up like a stray calf and herded him to the exit.

It happens everywhere

But, since only a true horse's patootie can take this sort of foolishness to the next level, he decided that his next best move would be to headbutt a cop.  So he did that, and it led to him being toted away with one officer on each arm and each leg and schlepping him off the field and into a nice cozy cell.

I was at the Colts game in 1971 when a bozo ran onto the field and grabbed the football, only to have his timbers shivered by the forearm of linebacker Mike Curtis.

It's hard to believe that anyone would undertake this sort of behavior while totally sober. But whatever fuels it, don't worry.  There's plenty more of it.