In long ago times...before X-rated movies, before Lennie Bruce popularized profanity, before topless bars and lap dances...there was burlesque (or, as my brother-in-law called it, burly-cue). Jokes in burlesque alluded to sex by innuendo and an accompanying leer. The girls wore pasties and G-strings. Gypsie Rose Lee made an art of the strip tease by never quite revealing all. Marie Wilson was a ditzy blond who starred in Ken Murray's Blackouts. Milton Berle and Burt Lahr (later, the Cowardly Lion) got their start in the burlesque houses. My mother, who could be a prude on her best days and a Puritan on the worst, had a fascination with burlesque. She loved the music...that down-and-dirty beat of the bass drum, followed by a tympannic drum roll and the clash of the cymbals as the girls hit their stride. She taught me how to do the shimmy, the bump-and-grind, and that great, sexy hip-thrust strut...and she knew her stuff.
What has this to do with farming? Terminology. Just as goats have the ability to withhold milk, not "letting it down," they also can hold back a reserve at the end. Kids will vigorously head butt the udder to get the last of the goodies. I give what's called "the bump," a gentle massage. It's not good to leave milk in the udder. Some can be resorbed, but there's the risk of clotting and ultimately mastitis. After no more milk can be squeezed, then comes the strip...running thumb and forefinger down the teat to get the last drops. All that's missing is the music.