I'll Have You Know

That when I read this in the Sun Times:

North Side mystery: Where did falling ice come from?

'The whole house shook and it felt like 'Boom!'' says homeowner.

BY KARA SPAK

The ice chunk cometh.

A large piece of ice fell from the sky Wednesday evening, tearing roofing from a North Side home before shattering into dozens of cloudy ice cubes and ice balls.

"The whole house shook and it felt like 'Boom!'" said homeowner Linda Dowd, who was watching "Freaky Friday" with her 11-year-old son Sean when the chunk struck. "We thought at first my son's drum set fell down or maybe the chimney, but it wasn't windy."

...

Linda Dowd said she was frosted over the $500 deductible her family would be paying on their homeowner insurance. Beyond the exterior damage, she said there is plaster damage in their bedroom next to where the ice struck the roof.

"It's like, why me?" she said. "It's falling out of the sky."

Tony Molinaro, Federal Aviation Authority spokesman, said investigators would track down any planes flying over the home around 8 p.m. last night to see if they sprung a leak. The home, he said, was about 10 miles from an O'Hare runaway.

I showed what can only be described as positively superhuman restraint when I threw away all 17 of my posts -- written in a single runaway, adolescent, coprological frenzy -- reworking the ancient "House Hit by Icy-BM" joke, which has been handed down through the ages in one form or another from Ezekiel the Tragedian, to Omar Khayyám, to Geoffrey Chaucer, to Bill Shakespeare, to Miyamoto Musashi, to Vladimir Nabokov, to E.E. "Doc" Smith, to Nelson Algren, to Spider Robinson, from whom I filched it.

Because I realized now that I'm writing for posterity and awards and treasure and immortality and stuff, poo jokes are just wrong.

Just plain, fucking wrong.