BULLETIN! - Drink Beer After Exercising

The news from the medical front just keeps getting better and better. The latest is that after exercising, drinking beer is more beneficial than gulping water. So after jogging up and down the hallway just reach for a Bud or a Blue Ribbon. If someone objects , tell them it's doctor's orders.
The only problem with this is, it isn't news at all. Infantrymen have known as much for eons. For proof, listen to a few old dogface marching songs:
Rack up another beer, boys, the infantry's hitting the road,
Time for another beer, boys, to help us lighten the load,
There isn't a war in history that wasn't won by the infantry,
So rack up another beer, boys, the infantry's hitting the road.

Then there's this old classic:
The infantry, the infantry, with dirt behind their ears,
The infantry, the infantry, they drink up all the beers,
The cavalry, artillery and corps of engineers,
Could never lick the infantry in a hundred thousand years.

Still not convinced? This should do it:
Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he,
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl and he called for his privates three,
Beer, beer, beer, said the privates . . . and on and on through every rank in the Army. They all had something different to say, of course.
So there it is, proof positive that infantrymen are always a step ahead of the medics. Or in this case, centuries ahead.
# # #
Mystery writers are always looking for a new twist. Coming up with one isn't easy. My favorite is the woman who was sick and tired of having her husband hanging around so she finished him off by conking him on the head with a frozen leg of lamb. She then put the leg of lamb in the oven and cooked it.
The detectives couldn't find the weapon that committed the dastardly deed so they decided the killer had taken it with him when he left. The wife was off the hook. In the meantime the aroma of the lamb led them to tell her how wonderful it smelled. She then put plates on the table, sliced the lamb and the detectives sat down and ate the murder weapon.
It's embarrassing to admit I can't remember who wrote the story. That could be grounds for drumming me out of the Mystery Writers of America.

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