Alright, listen up here. Earnie's been looking over my shoulder, reading his daily dose of G&H mail. Likes to keep tabs on some of the trouble-makers, like Little Laura, Gemma, and a few other Feminazis he feels inclined to straighten out regularly. Earnie wishes to point out that just keeping the feminists under control is a lot of work. Takes a fair portion of his time. Remember, he lives with Becky and Peggy Sue, too. Talk about Feminazis! Becky regularly kicks his blond bottom all over the house for orneyness. She can be really Bitchy. Peggy Sue has been known to bite him on the nose when he trips over her in hot pursuit of a wayward tennis ball. That nose of his is a big target. Living with bitches isn't easy. So--imagine his depression, the utter dismay when he spotted the post warning people of the dangers of the **sinister** tennis ball once again. He thought we buried that issue once and for all about 6 months ago. Some of you may remember he went into a blue funk, went slinking into the basement and refused to come out until we guaranteed him we weren't going to take away his tennis balls. His *beloved* tennis balls. Earnie now strongly suspects that someone on this list works for OSHA or some other Governmental branch designed to keep an uninformed public in a high state of hysteria over safety issues. These people commute to work in black Helicopters. They have no Social Security numbers. They live to stir the pot. Getting people hysterical over tennis balls takes their minds off things like bombing Yugoslavia, and other insignificant stuff like that. These are the people who are instrumental in the evolution of such things as the present day Power Lawnmower. Anybody out there purchased a Power Mower lately? You need an engineering degree just to figure out how to start the damned thing, let alone keep it running, for all the safety junk the manufacturers have had to install to keep them moron-resistant. Signs that say such things as "Keep Feet, Hands, and other Necessary Appendages Out From Under Mower While Cutting the Grass". "Males using Lawn Mowers are warned to wear Jock Straps during operational periods, and wear long trousers!" Right. OK. Enough, he says. Tennis balls are Earnies *LIFE*! What, oh what would he do with all the time he now spends sliming tennis balls, and stuffing them under your chair so he can dig them out? What would my wife do with her spare time if she wasn't spending half the day shouting "NO DIGGING" at Earnie as he tries to extricate those slimy chartreuse suckers out from under the armchairs? The detergent companies would go broke if Earnie couldn't slime the crotch of your trousers on a daily basis with a really repulsive tennis ball, thoroughly and lovingly coated with lugubrious saliva, rolled in lawn clippings, and plunked in your lap? The whole economy could go under! Think, you guys, before just jumping on that turnip truck [BTW don't feed your dog turnips, either] with the other tenny-ball nay-sayers! The implications here could be staggering! Earnie also wants to point out that the same people who want to remove his balls, tennis balls that is--probably feed their dogs rawhide chews, nyla-bones, bull-peters and other assorted diabolical things **known** to kill dogs with some regularity. He reminds you that statistically, very few dogs have died as a result of tennis balls, as compared to rawhide chews, or the splinters from those boiled beef bones sold in all the doggie catalogs! So, hey, live a little! Take a chance! Let your dog play with his tennis balls! Supervise if you must, but the problems associated with tennis-ball withdrawal are far more severe than the risk of injury from playing fetch with them! Ever price a dog Psychiatrist?

Becky [Played with them all my life. Keeps me young.]
Peggy Sue [One cannot properly Roo-Roo without a tennis ball in ones mouth!
Earnie [I'll surrender my tennis balls when they pry my cold, dead jaws off of them--and I'm going down with 5 in my mouth. Watch me. Goldens, everywhere--unite! Don't let them take our balls!]