I meant to relate a small but amusing story about Mom:
This past weekend she was out visiting friends in her little corner of the Maine Coast. After having drink taken, the group moved off to dinner at the local hangout, a shack of a place on the main drag the next island over from her. Apparently, the subject rayther unsurprisingly swung round to the issue of politics, on which it is safe to say that Mom has some very definite opinions.
Mom says that she must have been talking louder than she realized, because suddenly the local librarian sprung up from her place at a table at the other end of the room and said, “Who? Who said that liberals don’t have any common sense?”
Mom half-rose from her chair, looked the woman straight in the eye, and said, “I did.”
After gawping for a moment, the woman sat down without another word.
[Insert Sergio Leone trademark "Ah-Ee-Ah-Ee-Aaaaaahh" here]
(Mom recounted this story to me with great glee. No offense to the dearly departed, but I get the distinct impression she is thoroughly enjoying herself since the Old Gentleman handed in his dinner pail.)

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November 4, 2008 at 1:20 am
Mrs. Peperium
Please send her my regards.
November 4, 2008 at 5:31 am
The Bovina Bloviator
God bless yer ma!
And in that last sentence, I assume you’re referencing this:
A brief suspense, and then at last
The waiting’s o’er, the vigil past;
A careful aim. A spurt of flame.
It’s done. You’ve pulled the trigger,
And one more gnu, so fair and frail,
Has handed in its dinner-pail;
(The females all are rather small,
The males are somewhat bigger).
November 4, 2008 at 8:47 pm
Robbo
Indeed, I was borrowing from Plum, although not that poem in particular – he used the image more than once.