Live, Laugh, Don't Disturb the Soil
Danny Browning - October 2025
NEWS4U Evansville
NEWS4U Evansville
I realize the Newburgh Hazmat Hullabaloo was last month, but I can't stop obsessing about it. Everyone else has moved on to fall festivals, pumpkin spice lattes, and arguing over whether it's too early to put up Christmas decorations. Meanwhile, I'm still staring at my bottled water stash like it's the last will of mankind.
It all started when the PBTT factory spontaneously combusted, releasing a cocktail of mystery chemicals into the air. Officials called it an "incident." I call it just another crazy weekend in southern Indiana. For weeks, we were told not to disturb the ash that fell from the sky, which is tough, because ash is basically glitter's evil cousin. Once it lands on your porch, it's there forever.
Tri-State grocery stores couldn't keep bottled water on the shelves. Aquafina vanished faster than you can say "polyvinyl chloride," and suddenly everyone was a hydration snob. Personally, I started drinking Fiji, as it pairs well with airborne carcinogens. You know it's serious when Hoosiers willingly pay extra for water that doesn't come out of a garden hose.
And I can't get the image of my neighbor's pond out of my head. True story, the catfish were floating sideways, the carp glowing faintly, and the ducks were holding what looked suspiciously like a union meeting. Even the squirrels seemed shinier, like somebody ran them through a deluxe car wash. I keep expecting one to show up at my window with a clipboard, asking if I'd like to learn more about their wellness plan, which I'm sure involves lots of nuts.
Officials now assure us everything is "under control," which is exactly what they say when it isn't. Folks in Evansville, Henderson, and Newburgh have stopped worrying and gone back to planning chili cook-offs and tail-gate parties. But I'm still here picturing porch signs that say: "Live, Laugh, Don't Disturb the Soil."
I know, I know, life goes on. This is southern Indiana. We've survived floods, tornadoes, boil advisories, and the occasional raccoon uprising. We'll survive this, too. We'll throw a fundraiser, raffle off a quilt, and call it community.
So if you see me at the Fall Festival, eyeing the brain sandwich booth with suspicion, don't be alarmed. I just want to make sure there's no residual ash in the seasoning. After all, one can't be too healthy when one is consuming a deep-fried cow brain sandwich.
It all started when the PBTT factory spontaneously combusted, releasing a cocktail of mystery chemicals into the air. Officials called it an "incident." I call it just another crazy weekend in southern Indiana. For weeks, we were told not to disturb the ash that fell from the sky, which is tough, because ash is basically glitter's evil cousin. Once it lands on your porch, it's there forever.
Tri-State grocery stores couldn't keep bottled water on the shelves. Aquafina vanished faster than you can say "polyvinyl chloride," and suddenly everyone was a hydration snob. Personally, I started drinking Fiji, as it pairs well with airborne carcinogens. You know it's serious when Hoosiers willingly pay extra for water that doesn't come out of a garden hose.
And I can't get the image of my neighbor's pond out of my head. True story, the catfish were floating sideways, the carp glowing faintly, and the ducks were holding what looked suspiciously like a union meeting. Even the squirrels seemed shinier, like somebody ran them through a deluxe car wash. I keep expecting one to show up at my window with a clipboard, asking if I'd like to learn more about their wellness plan, which I'm sure involves lots of nuts.
Officials now assure us everything is "under control," which is exactly what they say when it isn't. Folks in Evansville, Henderson, and Newburgh have stopped worrying and gone back to planning chili cook-offs and tail-gate parties. But I'm still here picturing porch signs that say: "Live, Laugh, Don't Disturb the Soil."
I know, I know, life goes on. This is southern Indiana. We've survived floods, tornadoes, boil advisories, and the occasional raccoon uprising. We'll survive this, too. We'll throw a fundraiser, raffle off a quilt, and call it community.
So if you see me at the Fall Festival, eyeing the brain sandwich booth with suspicion, don't be alarmed. I just want to make sure there's no residual ash in the seasoning. After all, one can't be too healthy when one is consuming a deep-fried cow brain sandwich.
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Danny Browning is a nationally touring stand-up comedian, clean corporate entertainer, and monthly humor columnist for News4U Evansville. Based in Southern Indiana, he has performed at comedy clubs, corporate galas, and nonprofit fundraisers across Indianapolis, Louisville, Evansville, Cincinnati, and beyond, including the Improv, the Funny Bone, and stages alongside Norm MacDonald, Jim Norton, and Jennifer Coolidge. Comedy & Curiosities is his attempt to be funny without a microphone. It's going okay.
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Danny Browning | Comedian, Humorist & Monthly Troublemaker for News4U Evansville