Keeping a whirlygig duck from rotting seems water related.
Generally, the idea is keeping the duck dry - like "water off a duck's back."
Research indicates that baby ducks, hatched from an incubator, do not float.
It takes several days for their oil glands to generate enough oil to secrete enough oil to coat the feathers. Then they will float. Baby ducks hatched by the mother duck float because they get coated with oil from rubbing against the mother duck. Maybe wood products should be oil-finished prior to painting or else rubbed against a live duck.
Another possibility is antifungal alternatives. On the assumption that rotten wood is the result of fungus, perhaps the initial wood finishing should be done with an antifungal oil/grease .... something like Athlete's Foot cream? Does "soaking in hydrogen peroxide" stop wood rot?
Quack, Quack
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I wonder if baby skunks float or if they have to rub against their mother? Trixie tried to waterproof herself by rolling on a dead skunk last time we went to the P-A-R-K. To a beagle, dead skunk smells just like Chanel No. 5!
Cheers!
Maybe you (or maybe Steve) might write a parody/tune something like "rollin on a river"
"Rollin on a dead skunk"
MAybe "Born Free"?
"Dead skunk, as free as the wind blows ...."
They have a gas leak in NYC today.
Quack, Quack
Parities are hard because you have to recognizably reproduce the original music. That's tough! Maybe I'll start fresh with the "Dead Skunk Blues." I could use the dead skunk as a metaphor for my life but I'm not sure if I could make it sound genuine. My life doesn't stink. Maybe I'll keep it light and just write about a dead skunk in my crawl space. I think I could pull that off even though my duplex is on a slab.
Writing a song is a big challenge for me, but I'm encouraged by the huge poetry success I had yesterday. Did you catch it?
I tried to write a poem,
But found it very hard.
Searching for the perfect meter,
I found only a yard!
Dave
Believe it or not, this is the first peom I've ever written in all my 36 years! It's not for a lack of trying; I just wasn't born with the poetry gene. Anyway, I'm going to ride this new wave of confidence as far as it will take me--hopefully till I finish the "Dead Skunk Blues!"
Cheers!
Parodies; not parities... When it comes to all these musical terms, You're playing chess and I'm playing checkers!
Cheers again!
You forgot Andrew Jackson’s Big Block of Cheese with nary a macaroni in sight.
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