You can’t; you were never there.

Today, a four-seater plane crashed not far from the Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum near Branson, Missouri. Everyone aboard died. Believe it or not.

Last week, Peter Tomarken died when his plane crashed into Santa Monica Bay. Tomarken was the host of several television programs including “Press Your Luck,” “Wipe-Out,” and “Paranoia.” Believe it or not.

I wonder if there’s some relationship between semantics and aeronautic safety?

(This reminds me of a somewhat related joke. Question: what do you call a dog with no head? Answer: Why call it anything? It’s not going to come.)

Where was I? Yes, Heidi and Fluffy, that’s right. I call one kitty Fluffy because she’s fluffy. I address the other puss as Heidi because he always hides, albeit ineffectually, under the bed cover. I suppose “Heidi” should really be “Hidey,” but, since cats can’t spell, who cares?

I bought an excellent backpack decades ago, and enjoyed hiking at least a thousand kilometers with it. Although it was starting to show signs of wear, it functioned perfectly until the end. And that brings us to the final act.

From all available evidence, it appears that the pack was attacked by Norwegian roof rats. I have no idea what these Scandinavian rodents are doing in Sans Frisco; most likely they’re here for the temperate climate like the rest of us. Anyway, the wee beasties chewed through the thick, nylon fabric, then gnawed through a topographical map of Glacier National Park, and finally shredded a pair of Ma Kraler socks in order to reach their target: a couple of packets of soy sauce I’d stashed inside. The dang varmints ruined my pack, so I left it on the street to provide a homeless person with a modestly better alternative to a shopping cart.

And so, I need to buy a new backpack. Assuming that my second pack is as good as my first one, and that I can keep it away from Norwegian roof rats, this backpack will be the last one I’ll ever own. We’re not here long.

Jacqueline Dotson allegedly lost control of her behemoth vehicle, and then ran several cars off the road before she crashed through a guardrail and landed upside down. Rescuers found her severed arm still clutching her mobile phone.

Bad drivers getting their comeuppance, inappropriate mobile phone use punished, and no one died, what’s not to like?

When I discovered that I’d slipped on an orange peel, I started laughing uncontrollably. I was supposed to have slipped on a banana peel! I inadvertently picked the wrong fruit!

“Sure was,” I agreed, “so I guess we both know what needs to be done.”

“Get unsober?” Brian asked.

“What other choice is there?” I concluded as I reached for my corkscrew.