Your love is like squirrel parfait
I just put on an obviously clean shirt. Only it has dog hair all over it. The dog has figured out a way to get her hair all over clean laundry too. It saves her from rubbing all over it when we first put it on. I apologize for saying she wasn't the smartest pup in the litter - just the prettiest.
Today I identify as a Mack truck (in transition)
Sometimes in the mornings I take a smoke break. I don't smoke.
One day I looked down and discovered a beer belly. I don't drink beer.
I'm terrified of runner's leg, smoker's lung, over-exercising, pothead brain fog, heroin arms, and Congressional ethics.
Is somebody trying to tell me something?
Wife related a story about my dear departed Marshall the cocker. Apparently he had never seen a body of water. She took him to a lake and he wasn't entirely sure what to do with it. He put a paw in the water, confused that he could not walk on it. After that, he was perfectly happy to play in it and he got his own little plastic pool for the yard. I suggested he avoid walking on the water, as it tends to cause a commotion.
Recently I looked down and found what looks like a plus sign on my arm. I hate it when body parts try to communicate it with me. I noticed that any communications from beyond reality seem to be garbled. Think about dreams and messages from Elsewhere. They're never clear. They never say, for instance, "Do not take crap, especially from your neighbors." Or, "Nuclear weapons should be reserved for the most formidable opponents." No sir, they're always in pictures or allegories or similes or other things you cannot understand equally. In your dream, you watch a yak going into a small building and brushing his teeth. Somehow you are expected to get from this that you really should be nicer to your mother. Those of us who never went to college or have serious A.D.D. always get "Huh?" from these things. This only benefits two kinds of people: the Really Deep Thinkers, who tend to just get it, and the people who travel around giving seminars on What it All Means. The seminar givers don't actually know more than you; their conscience is just assuaged by the steady stream of money fleeced from everybody else. If there are indeed pearly gates, they aren't allowed through (but a toll is collected first).
A small bit of brown marker could turn my plus sign into a bit of a cross. If Marshall were still alive, we could both walk on water and I'd never have to work. But I'd never get used to the circus that would spring up around me wherever I went. This would be very different from the circus in which I live. At very least, it would involve an awful lot more people, and they'd all be expecting things. In truth, I don't mind doing things for people, but I could imagine it quickly getting out of hand. First, Penny would bark at Marshall because she doesn't like dogs. It would only go downhill from there. People would expect me to do all sorts of stuff which I am not equipped to do.
"Oh, give us a miracle, please."
Miracle? You got the wrong guy, lady.
"No, you are divine."
Wife once said that, but it wasn't around a miracle and I ain't doing it with you. Wife gets Very Upset about this sort of thing.
"But how can you deny your divinity?"
How can you deny your ugly?
"But you have The Mark."
It's just a freckle.
"He speaks through freckles."
Look, I just washed off the marker - it's just a plus sign.
"No, you're a sign to humanity. You just don't know it yet."
Apparently.
"Do something divine."
I can make butter cream vanilla icing. That's damn divine.
"Walk on the puddle over there."
See, this is the problem. Walk across one lake and all of the sudden, people demand stuff of you. You are no longer yourself's; you are the property of the public.
"Cure my son... he has no filters."
Neither do I, Sir. Selfish bastard.
"My daughter has Oppositional Defiant Disorder."
NO SHE DOESN'T!
"My eyebrows... they're weird."
Stop plucking them.
"I'm cured! He cured me!"
[groan] This was better in theory than practice. Marshall - get off the lake, we're going home. You should probably stop talking til we get there.
The sad thing is that once the marker washed off, there was only the plus sign. I was then besieged by a bawdy band of accountants, who all figured I knew the sum.
* Marshall: please come home.
Some guy in Georgia just got ten years for involuntary manslaughter. His story goes that he was minding his own business, when a car came up and tried to run him over. The occupants were shouting racial epithets (the guy is black). He whipped out his trusty AK47 and started firing into the vehicle, killing a 17 year old female. The kids deny shouting at him and his girlfriend, who was walking with him, never heard anything.
Either there were voices or there weren't. This really bothers me. It's not all that difficult to discern whether or not there were epithets. There is no known phenomenon that will cause voices out of the blue, especially those of a racial nature. Simply because the kids happened to get into a Dodge Charger would not cause words to appear out of nowhere. The exhaust sound would be deafening, but would not contain or translate into speech.
I think if he's hearing persecutory voices, perhaps he needs to see somebody. I missed the full story, but he just happened to have his trusty AK47 with him? That must've made quite the spectacle, walking down the street. In fact, if the kids in the vehicle saw him carrying it, it would act to dissuade them from shouting anything except, "Good morning, Sir! Fine day. That's quite a piece of hardware you have there. Please do not discharge it in our direction."
Also a little off-putting were the people who wanted to let the guy go with time served. He did manage to kill a child, which should count for something. Even in Georgia. Well, he didn't mean to. Ok, then.
What have we learned? That Congress needs to pass laws forbidding the hearing of racial epithets, doubly so while armed. If you just let them, government will take care of all of our problems. And money.
I come from the time when, if you dyed your hair, you did everything you could to not let the roots show. Now it's virtually mandatory. Not that anyone would notice bleached blonde hair with 3" brown roots..... don't even get me started on bra straps...
Mrs. lefty called, from many states away, on vacation. She told me a card game had just broken out. Old maid. I guess she was right - I could never compete. I hear they're going to the supermarket tomorrow!
The Pentagon has ordered a review of US psyops on social media
Never in a million years would I have expected this headline. The long and short of it is that the Pentagon was messing around with opinions through fake social media accounts, and social media was throwing them off. Take a moment to spit out your Kool Aid over this. At least we know the Pentagon isn't sending down the narrative for social media to repeat and police.
Remember: If you read nothing else today, but have read this.. you will have read nothing else but this.
Remember the Uvalde high school shooting, where the police took 77 minutes to do something? Freedom of information requests for messages sent from the former chief keep getting rejected for the strangest reasons:
- it would expose our procedures and tactics, creating safety issues
- "Temporary custodians" of the data only turned over a little of it
- "They're incredibly important"
- The video that everybody's seen does not exist
- lawyers for the City of Uvalde claimed it doesn’t have to release records because they could contain “highly embarrassing information” or regard “emotional/mental distress,”
- Donkey show
- they didn't know anything was going on
- data would show highly regarded guardians of law had peed their pants. Or somebody's pants.
- they forgot their guns
- it might affect pensions and future employment
- had to go back to the station to change into men's underwear.
- watching terrorist training videos on YouTube
- "We're not going in there - we could get hurt! Can't we send the lunch ladies instead?"
- Couldn't find Pelosi to tell the shooter he shouldn't have guns
- Chief was out 'hunting wabbit'
Just before his life-changing performance at the Woodstock festival, he played the Whisky A Go Go in Los Angeles. During his show-stopping rendition of With A Little Help From My Friends, a nubile admirer was hoisted on to her companion’s shoulders. She then proceeded to unzip Cocker’s jeans and give him a blow job in front of the entire audience. According to the Rolling Stone reviewer John Mendelsohn, ‘He gave the scream of his career as she worked the Cocker cock with considerable fervour.’Joe recalls: “Jimi Hendrix was in the audience that night, sitting in a dark booth with a lot of groupies. I was just doing my thing when this lady… er, appeared. After the show I met Hendrix, and he was laughing his head off because he’d put her up to it.” He tried not to sing out of key.
I think the UN was a great idea, in practice. It has failed completely and now wants to dictate additional taxes to member nations. The US is sovereign and must always remain that way. We have enough trouble with our own, without dictates from outside. Yes, I understand what they were going for.
Neptune has rings? Since when?
Immediately after the pictures arrived, representatives for Saturn declared a solar system-wide strike, saying, "HEY - we have all the rings here." They refused to recognize Neptune's rings, and are calling anything Neptune says 'ringist.'
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