Good news from Texas

especially the bone rattling ones. On my 2018 trip to Africa I had a little health problem and John Abraham, my PH and good friend for almost 30 years, took me to a town (AKA small African village) 80 miles away called No Hope and to a white witch doctor who ran a combination doctor's office and funeral home. He checked me out and told me to drop my pants. I wondered if he was feeling frisky or was serious. While I was dropping my pants he pulled out a syringe that had to hold half a quart of his home brewed pooka juice. He gave me the shot and within about 30 minutes the old native ladies walking down the street with the baskets on their heads began to look good to me. John told me later that I propositioned one old lady at a stop sign and he managed to get me out of there before I ended up married to her.

Anyway, let's not bad mouth all witch doctors. The one I met helped put a little shazam in me and got me back hunting.