The Slice: Hoops’ version of a foul ball?
Maybe they need to start calling those.
June Dickmann’s elderly mother enjoys watching basketball on TV. And she knows the rules. But her hearing isn’t what it used to be.
So when an announcer alluded to a possible technical foul, Dickmann’s mom was dubious.
“Testicle foul?” she said. “I think they’re making that up.”
Long ago but not far away: Tom McArthur was listening to the radio last week when he heard an invitation to call a phone number – 1-800-NAT-PARK.
“Nat Park, of course – to oldsters from around here – means Natatorium Park, the long-gone amusement park that once existed down by the river, on the west end of Boone Avenue,” he wrote.
It was the original home of the Looff Carrousel. And McArthur produced a KSPS-TV special on the local landmark back in 1996.
As it happens, that phone number belongs to the National Parks Conservation Association.
But for a moment, McArthur entertained the possibility that 1-800-NAT-PARK was some sort of mysterious hotline connecting callers with Spokane’s own version of “Brigadoon.”
Spokane is the kind of place where … : Those invited to attend an “Alternative Transportation Fair” get sent parking passes before the event.
Just wondering: Why did you eventually bail on your book club?
Agree or disagree: “Beaver brand horseradish is WAY too hot to actually eat,” wrote a friend who lives in Colville.
Slice answer: Marie Christensen’s 8-year-old granddaughter answers to seven names: Megan, Meg, Megs, Meggy, Moo, Meggy Moo and Meggy Moo Moo.
Let’s move on.
One local man’s reply to an invitation to attend a Royal Wedding viewing party later this month: “No thanks. We are painting a room that day … and I have to stay home and make sure the paint dries OK.”
Today’s Slice question: Who holds the local record for hours spent watching cute animal videos online?
Write The Slice at P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210; call (509) 459-5470; fax (509) 459-5098; e-mail email@example.com. Mary Johnson’s young grandson was at an estate sale when he held his thumb against the bulb on a small wall thermometer and soon reported that he was “52 hot.”