Long thought to have been built by the first Norwegian loggers to reach the area following the 18th Century exodus of everybody who smelled like rotten fish from Minnesota,  these documents prove that Snooseville was established as a trading colony in 734 AD by Sven Svenska of Guttenbladder, Sweden. 

An itinerant Lutefish manufacturer known by his Viking name, Sven the Stinky, he found the Northwest Passage during a period of global warming caused by the lutefisk fumes in southern Sweden.

With temperaturs rising to an average of 20 below zero, every icelandic cod in Sweden's fiords melted that year, causing the bottom to drop out of the lutefisk futures market, and melting all the glaciers in the northern hemisphere.  Mr. Svenska packed barges of rotten fish over the Bloorgenskooten Mountains to  Norway.

He made a killing, and since nobody in Norway had to go fishing that year, bought two hundred boats from retired Viking raiders, stuck their gunnles together with lutefish glue, and set out across the North Pole in the belief  that he had found the water passage to Vienna, and could sell the craft for wood to make zithers.

Since at that time there had been a magnetic pole shift, and it was so cloudy, he inadvertantly sailed west instead of east, and with the higher sea levels, made landfall at what is now Snooseville, sixty miles from the present day's Pacific coastline.

Since the local inhabitants, the Whatchacallit Indians, had never even heard of a zither, he modified his original scheme, and sold them to locals as long wooden umbrellas.  It took thirty Indians each to hold them upside down in the air, but it was the first time any Native American in what was to be known as Oregon had ever experienced being dry, so the idea was a big hit.

But, since the local tribes dried their fish instead of rotting them in salty water, they had nothing to trade for the boats except Minnesota, which they had abandoned because none of them liked accordian music or people wearing leather shorts with suspenders.

It was the best deal he could make, so Sven made the trade and headed for Minneapolis, which he reached just as the Moors conquered Spain for the first time.  After trying to figure out a profitable use for it for ten years, he finally gave up and walked to what is now Nova Scotia, hailed Eric the Red on his way back from Vinland and two years later returned to Oslo with a distinct distaste for paddling. 

They call him "Lefty" because he was born with his feet on backward.  For years, everybody thought he wouldn't ever hunt because when you throw something for him to fetch, he always runs the wrong way.

Being that he is a Labrador Retriever, it meant that any time you took him to the lake, you'd come home with an empty bag and the lake surface would be littered with dead ducks.

After several failures, she found the solution. A small helmet with a rear view mirror hanging from the bill.  Lefty headed for the images he saw in that, which were behind him. 

He thinks he is running forward because the floating dead ducks get larger as he goes backwards.

Still to be solved is the retriever function, although Phyllis is working on a set of mechanical jaws which strap to Lefty's hindquarters and respond to signals send by a sensor device wrapped around his muzzle.

The present rear jaw design is a bit heavy, and being under the surface the instant he hits the water and since dead ducks float, has so far retrieved only three carp and an old golf club.

Meeting Announcement

The Peg's Bottom Geneological Society will meet Thursday next as somebody has located a relative who is willing to admit they're related to somebody who lives here.

Man Bites Dog

Hubert Hollister-Crotchworthy broke out his mobile hot dog stand which with the good weather will once more motor up and down the streets offering his unique highway franks made from fresh road kill.  Selecting from the finest quality possums and windshield collision collectibles (insects are a fine source of protein), he stuffs the paste into old Schwinn bicycle inner tubes, then boils them until they swell up and you can just read the air pressure requirements.

Eaten with a dab of hot musterd, they slide down like a torpedo, preventing acid reflux problems for six months.
 

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This page is dedicated to Dave Bascom.