Dear Radio Friends,


It becomes my painful duty to write you a letter of apology
instead of sending you the Christmas remembrance that I had intended
for you.


Knowing so well the appetites, likes and dislikes of my close
rrap friends, I made up a list of twelve of my best friends and went
down and bought twelve quarts of "Royal Canadian" seven-year-old
whiskey. Nothing but the very finest for my friends. I took this home
and put it in my closet and intended to put it up in nice Christmas
packages and send it out to you just before Christmas.


My wife, K0CKB, got to fumbling around in the closet and found
the liquor and didn't understand just what I intended to do with it. So
she came up and told me to empty the contents of every bottle down the
sink, or else. So I proceeded with the unpleasant task.


I withdrew the cork from the first bottle and poured the
contents down the sink, with the exception of one glass which I drank.
I extracted the cork of the second bottle and likewise poured the
contents down the sink, with the exception of the glass which I drank.
I pulled the sink from the next bottle from the cork of the next and
drank one sink out of it and threw the rest down the glass. I pulled
the sink out of the next glass and poured the cork from the bottle.
Then I corked the sink with the glass, bottled the drink and drank the
pour.


When I had everything emptied, I steadied the house with one
hand and counted the bottles, corks, glasses, and sinks with the other,
which were twenty-nine. And, as the houses came by, I counted them
again and finally had all the houses and bottles and corks and glasses
and sinks counted, except one house which I drank.


So this accounts, dear friends, for your not receiving a more
stimulating Christmas present than this letter. I sincerely hope that
from some other source you get all the joys and happiness that come
from Christmas remembrances.


"May the Lord take care of you, but not too soon."
73, Hans, K0HB, & Colleen, K0CKB