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Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Flagged again





Sometimes, you just have to be honest enough to admit when you need help.

It's time to import some talent to go Ninja on the vermin. I am finally willing to admit defeat in my war against the on-going squirrel/mouse/vole/gopher apocalypse, and start a search for highly qualified, experienced SEAL/Green Beret/Ranger/ Pararescue barn cats.

My front yard looks like the post Shock and Awe postcards from Baghdad, and there are more tunnels than the Viet Cong dug. The sound of rodent laughter keeps me awake at night.

I'm looking for a couple barn cats.

The uglier, the better. No such thing as too many scars. Three or more legs preferred. Prior convictions, imprisonments or over-due library books will not disqualify any candidate with a solid, well-documented combat record.

My dog, Snorp, fell off the wagon, after confiding to me that he was beaten. Even as I write these words, he is on the front porch, awash in an ever-expanding pool of dog drool, tears, and the remnants of a half rack of incredibly cheap beer.

Cats named "Fluffy", "Princess", "Missy", or "Lester", need not apply.

If you have a cat you're afraid of, or one who has failed rehab several times--I'm interested.
If you have a cat that has worn out its welcome--I'm interested.
If your cat smokes, drinks and has morals lower than my Uncle Dexter--I'm interested
If you have a cat that thrives in a 'target-rich' environment--I'm really interested.

I'm desperate here Buckaroos. Give a brother a hand.

Squirt me and email. We'll talk quantitative kill zones and kitty litter.


 

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Word
















A recently released study offers data which undeniably proves 
that over-weight married women live substantially longer
than husbands who comment on their wife's weight.


















Sunday, July 6, 2014

Biệt Động Quân





 

       

         In order to depend on each other, we needed to know, and understand each other. In the season of a tropical war, the price of trust was high, and extracted its price in tears and blood.

      “What are you willing to fight for?” I asked.
 
       In broken English he answered, “I will fight for everything. The question you should ask is, what are you willing to die for?”