Georgia lawmakers decide official state dirt

If you hold a cat by the tail you learn things you cannot learn any other way.


– Mark Twain


I’m always a little antsy when the state Legislature’s in session.

There is just so much mischief its members can do. But, you know, our lawmakers do other things, too. Fun things, whimsical things. Such as deciding our official dirt.

Yes, Georgia has an official state soil to go with its state bird (brown thrasher), state flower (Cherokee rose) and state song (Georgia on My Mind).

Our state dirt is Tifton, defined as “a dark grayish brown loamy sand, made distinctive by the presence of more than 5 percent ironstone nodules in the upper part of the soil and more than 5 percent plinthite in the lower part of the soil.”

(I assume red clay remains the state mud.)


JOB LIST: Everett Fernandez shares this one: Top 10 Reasons to Become a Nurse

1. Pays better than fast food, though the hours aren’t as good

2. Fashionable shoes and sexy white uniforms

3. Needles: It’s better to give than to receive.

4. Reassure your patients that all bleeding stops eventually

5. Expose yourself to rare, exotic and exciting new diseases

6. Interesting aromas

7. Courteous and infallible doctors who always leave clear orders in perfectly legible handwriting

8. Do enough charting to navigate around the world

9. Celebrate the holidays with all your friends, at work

10. Take comfort that most of your patients survive no matter what you do to them.


MORE FFA: My mother read my column about last weekend’s dinner with the Future Farmers of America and wanted me to know that in high school, everyone knew she and my father were serious when he gave her his Future Farmers ring.

She wore it on a chain around her neck, she said, and was very proud because my father was not only the FFA president, but also played forward on the FFA basketball team.


TODAY’S JOKE: Billy Cooper, of North Augusta, tells this story of romance:

A young man called his mother and announced excitedly that he had just met the woman of his dreams. Now what should he do?

His mother had an idea: “Why don’t you send her flowers, and on the card invite her to your apartment for a home-cooked meal?”

He thought this was a great strategy, and arranged a date for a week later. His mother called the day after the big date to see how things had gone.

“The evening was a disaster,” he moaned.

“Why, didn’t she come over?” asked his mother.

“Oh, she came over, but she refused to cook.”