Okay, get ready, our first Texan joke, sent to me by a former listmember, Truett: The paper-rich Dallas yuppie drove to his suburban home on a hot July afternoon, parked his BMW 740i in his air-conditioned garage, hustled inside, tossed his Armani suit coat aside, loosened his Givenchy tie, and headed for the recreation room bar where he poured a tall Jack Daniels onto some ice cubes with a bit of Perrier. Looking out the patio window, he noticed, toward the deep end of his swimming pool, a sizeable crowd including some men in emergency uniforms. Hastening outside with drink in hand, he asked one of the men what was going on. "Well, sir, we responded a few minutes ago to a call that someone was drowning in your pool. It appears that the person might be your wife." "Oh, my God, is she all right?" "Well, we do not know at this moment, but we pulled her out of the pool and are administering artificial respiration, with the hope that we can bring her around." "Artificial respiration? Hell, give her the real thing - I can afford it!"