Part of me chafes at any rootin'-tootin' tough-broad granny story that makes the rounds (I'd rather not weigh down this post with the terms "ageist" and "sexist," but...oops), and part of me wishes some rootin'-tootin' tough-broad granny would fight off Emeril Lagasse with a saucepan, but I have to admit that this one (embedded below) -- complete with reference to Fibber McGee! -- made me smile.
Just two questions: I thought 70 was "young" now. What happened? And: Did the robber's head emerge in the shape of the pan?
|Judge's wife serves up justice|