No Nose Picking...
In grade school we had a music teacher named Mrs. Jones (Grant Miller may remember her). Mrs. Jones was unflappable, for the most part, except when it came to one thing - nose picking. She did not abide nose pickers in her class. She had a rear-view mirror mounted to her piano so that she could spot any perpetrators as she would play. However, whenever she caught someone, rather than stop mid-song, she'd incorporate her scolding into the lyrics of whatever song - usually something patriotic - that we were learning. So, for example, This Land Is Your Land became:
This land is your land, this land is my land
From California, to the New York Island
From the redwood forest, no nose picking Jason
This land was made for you and me
To this day I can't hear the Star Spangled Banner or God Bless America without thinking about that crusty clinger that's dying to be extricated from my nostril. So if you're at a sporting event and you see me with my finger up my nose rather than my hand over my heart, you can blame Mrs. Jones.