You can't even get an original tale...this gets posted about once a week.
Brilliant.

CHRIS REICH
"Joe S." wrote in message
...
Once upon a time -- actually, back in the early 1950's -- in rural south
Mississippi, my old Granddaddy -- who now rests forever in the warm soil
of his native Louisiana -- imparted to me a bit of wisdom that has stayed
with me for lo these many years.

Now, you first must understand that I was an obstreperous youth -- given
to wild and crazy stuff -- not restrained by my Southern Baptist
upbringing, by regular memorization of the King James Bible, or by regular
attendance at the First Baptist Church of Centreville, Mississippi.

Also, you need to know that my dear ol' Granddad dropped out of school in
the eighth grade to support his stepmother and several siblings after the
death of his father. What he lacked in formal education, he made up for
in good sense. He was a "pillar" of our community -- a deacon in the
church, a county commissioner, president of the school board, president of
the ration control board during WW II, etc., etc.

So one day he was sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch, playing
his fiddle, drinking Community Dark Roast Coffee, and reading his King
James Schofield Reference Bible. I was up to something -- at this point I
don't recall exactly what but it likely was no good.

"Son," said Granddad, " you need to stop wrassling with the pigs. You
just need to stop going down into the barnyard and wrassllin' with the
pigs."

"But, why, Granddad?"

"Because, son, when you wrassle with a pig, you don't solve anything,
everybody gets dirty, but the damned pig just loves it."

It would be several decades before I recognized the wisdom of my
Granddaddy's admonition.

Doink.

Oh, excuse me, I meant to say "Ploink."