Shrove Sunday

I don't even know what a "shrove" is, and I am not going to look it up.

I am only posting today to tell you that I posted as a sub for Candace. You can see a mighty fine post over there.

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My favorite word today is conceit. N., I am prettier than you. Def.: A disease that makes everyone sick except the guy who's got it.

Short Shrift Saturday #34

Bush is my shepherd; I dwell in want.
He maketh logs to be cut down in national forests.
He leadeth me into stolen wilderness.
He restoreth my fears.
He leadeth me into the paths of international disgrace
For his ego's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of pollution and war,
I will find no exit, for thou art in office.

The tax cuts for the rich and thy media control,
They discomfort me.
Thou preparest an agenda of deception in presence of thy religion.
Thou anointest my head with foreign oil.
My health insurance runneth out.

Surely megalomania and false patriotism
Shall follow me all the days of thy term,
And my jobless child shall dwell in my basement forever.

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My favorite word today is procrastination. N., manana, amigo. Def.:

Cadillacs and Fallow Deer

So on Wednesday I went to visit my brother over in Bend, OR. And Thursday morning his wife poured my coffee in this mug. Boy howdy, it is hard to get away from Tisha. Don't mess with Texas, indeed...

Anyway, it was a grand trip. First, I went to see my sister-in-law, Wendy, at her shop, Trivia Antiques. It is maybe 20x40 feet, and has 50x100 feet of goods in it. My brother, who is not married to Wendy but to Ann, then took me around to see five or six of the houses we used to live in (all are worthy of being torn down). Then I went for dinner to Ariana's, where I had rack of superbo lamb. With no mint jelly, thank you.

A highlight of the day was the discovery that a three-block-long street has been named Mervin Sampels Road, after my uncle. But it should have been named after me, for I lived there after he did. I never got the well dug, though.

My brother (Richard/Dick) also showed me around his neighborhood. (This is the view from his porch. If you click on the picture, you can see, in the center, Mt. Bachelor, which is over 9,000 feet high. To the right [unshown] are three mountains -- the Three Sisters -- all of whom top 10,000 feet. Spectaulum.) One of his neighbors raises fallow deer, which he claims are very low in fat. I would have a hard time terminating one of the flock -- they all look like Bambi.

Another neighbor stores stuff, mostly old Cadillacs. He has 37 Cadillacs in about all ages, in one condition: broken beyond repair. He also has a whole boxcar from a railroad and a barn that had to be built twice, for the first time it was on the county right-of-way. Nobody (except maybe him, and there is some doubt about that) knows why he has all this stuff.

Prices for housing have gotten outrageous in Bend -- some new condos are going up that will cost $700,000 to $1.2 million per each. Dick once asked a realtor what he could get for his own place, which is a house with 3 bedrooms, an office, large kitchen and living room, a spa, and a formal dining area, sitting on 10 acres of irrigated pasture, with a gorgeous view. The response: "Anything you want."

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My favorite word today is failure. N., dope; I told you that wouldn't work. Def.: The path of least persistence.

The Receptionist Who Receives

The 86-year-old man walks into a crowded reception room and approaches the desk. The receptionist says, "Yes sir, what are you seeing the doctor for today?"

"There's something wrong with my dick," he responds. Irritated, the receptionist says, "You shouldn't come into a crowded room and say things like that." He says, "Why not? You asked, and I told you."

The receptionist replied, "Now you've caused some embarrassment in this room full of people. You should have said there is something wrong with your ear or something, and discussed the problem further with the doctor in private. Why don't you just start over?"

So the man leaves, waits a few minutes, and returns. "I'd like to see the doctor, please, about my ear."

"And what is wrong with your ear, sir?" the receptionist asks.

"I can't piss out of it."

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My favorite word today is fruit. N., you little rotter, you. Def.: One whose hands and toes turn prunelike after he has stayed too long in the bathtub.

When Gross Is Not 144

A hefty woman goes into the bar, raises her arm -- revealing a huge patch of black hair -- and points at all the men therein assembled. "Who's gonna buy a lady a drink?" she demands.

She is ignored, except for one little old drunk guy down at the end of the bar. He tells the bartender, "Ah, hell, Joe, give the ballerina a drink."

So the bartender pours and the lady tosses it down in one gulp. She raises her arm again -- once more revealing a huge patch of black hair -- and points at all the drinkers and says, "Who's gonna buy a lady a drink?"

Nobody responds -- except for the little old drunk guy down at the end of the bar. "Sure, Joe, give the ballerina another drink."

Joe says, "You can do what you want with your money, old timer. But tell me, why do you call her a ballerina?"

"Anybody who can raise her leg that high has got to be a ballerina."

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St. Paul, Rufus and Ol' Hoss are out fishing when St. Paul says, "It would be nice to have a sandwich." So St. Paul gets up, walks across the water, buys some sandwiches and everybody is happy.

Except Rufus. "A beer sure would go good."

Hoss says, "I'll get it." And he walks across the water, buys a six-pack and returns.

Rufus says, "Boy that was good. I think we need another six-pack. I'll get it." He steps on the water and sinks to the bottom.

St. Paul says, "We should have told him about the stones."

And Hoss says, "What stones?"

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My favorite word today is cynic. N., a guy who doesn't believe in ballerinas. Def.: A true non-believer.

The Squire in Action

Feelgood Haines: "Who's that lady I see you squirin' around the place, Hoss?"

Hoss: "That's no lady. That's a b**gger."

Feelgood: "Looked like a woman to me. What was she doin' in your room? I know, I know! None of my business. But of course you wanna tell me."

Hoss: "Why would I want to tell you?"

Feelgood: "Nobody, not even you, could stand the rumors I'm gonna start otherwise. So, give, Hoss, what's the lowdown?"

Hoss: "The lady's name is Kathleen. She is from Iowa. She is pure as the undriven snow, so don't get your shorts all bunched up."

Feelgood: "Well, what was she doin' in your room?"

Hoss: "We was gonna dump..."

Feelgood: "Oh, I knew this would be good!"

Hoss: "...some material onto my computer. Then we planned to converge..."

Feelgood: "Right there in your room! You hardly know her, Hoss!"

Hoss: "...our systems for data protection."

Feelgood: "Oh."

Hoss: "Feelgood?"

Feelgood: "Yeah?"

Hoss: "Up yours."

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My favorite phrase today is Dutch Boy. Stir, stir, toil and trouble. Def.: A slat used to stir up paint which is then stored uselessly and eternally.

How to Be Sure You're a Republican

It is some puddin' what you can find on the Internet (I always capitalize "Internet" to distinguish it from "Phone Company"). For instance, there is this guy who can put a cell phone in a beer bottle, while people are watching closely. You can see it by going here. It is unexplained and inexplicable.

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And then if you want to see a streaker get his comeuppance, which, of course, you do, then go here.

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I stole from Lorraine this missive about what you need to believe to be a Republican:

Jesus loves you, and shares your hatred of homosexuals and Hilary Clinton.

Trade with Cuba is wrong because the country is Communist, but trade with China and Vietnam is vital to a spirit of international harmony.

A woman can't be trusted with decisions about her own body, but multi-national corporations can make decisions affecting all mankind without regulation.

If condoms are kept out of schools, adolescents won't have sex.

A good way to fight terrorism is to belittle our long-time allies, then demand their cooperation and money.

Global warming and tobacco's link to cancer are junk science, but creationism should be taught in schools.

Government should limit itself to the powers named in the Constitution, which include banning gay marriages and censoring the Internet.

Being a drug addict is a moral failing and a crime, unless you're a conservative radio host. Then it's an illness and you need our prayers for your recovery.

Give support to hunters who shoot their friends and blame them for wearing orange vests similar to those worn by quail.

A President lying about an extramarital affair is an impeachable offense, but a President lying to enlist support for a war in which thousands die is solid defense policy.

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My favorite phrase today is foreign aid. N., what's a few billion among friends? Def.: Take from the poor in a rich country and give to the rich in a poor country.

Short Shrift Saturday #33

As a woman passed her daughter's closed bedroom door, she heard a strange buzzing noise coming from within. Opening the door, she observed her daughter giving herself joy with a vibrator.

Shocked, she asks, "Just what are you doing?"

The daughter replied, "Mom, I'm 35 years old, unmarried, and this thing is about as close as I'll ever get to a husband. Go away and leave me alone."

The next day, the girl's father heard the same buzzing noise and he entered to see his daughter making passionate love to her vibrator. To his question as to what she was doing, she said, "Dad, I'm 35 years old, unmarried, and this thing is about as close as I'll ever get to a husband. Go away and leave me alone."

The following day, the wife came home from shopping and heard the buzzing noise coming from -- of all places -- the living room. She entered and observed her husband sitting on the couch, downing a cold beer and staring at the TV. The vibrator was next to him on the couch.

The wife says, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm watching baseball with my son-in-law."

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My favorite word today is indescribable. Adj., boy this is going to be tough. Def.: Descriptive of your facial expression that is apparent only upon having a passport photo taken.

A Non-Meme Meme?

I don't know what to call this. It was offered to me by Lisa and Tisha. Good friends of Ol' Hoss, so you know they is right pretty.

What you do is ask yourself a bunch of questions and then give the answers. Easy meat. And it gives me a chance to talk about myself, which is a terrific subject.

FIRST NAME? Lowell (ugh).
WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? Lowell, Massachusetts. Middle name is Eugene, for Eugene, Oregon. Last name is Maudlin for drunk dipshit.
WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY? Hoo boy, probably sometime in March.
DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? Nobody who can read likes my handwriting because they can't read it.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCHMEAT? Where's the question about peanut butter?
KIDS? Threesome: Good, bad and indifferent.
IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? I'm thinking...
DO YOU HAVE A JOURNAL? Is "journal" a b**g? I got me one of those.
DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? You're doing a GREAT job here Hoss.
DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? No, and the ice cream they gave me is also gone.
WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Jump whom?
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Is s'mores a cereal?
DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? I got these kind with Velcro. I haven't tied a shoe for 20 years.
DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? It's relative. I can lift two pieces of paper, so I ain't no fairy weakling, I guess.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR? Is this the question about peanut butter?
SHOE SIZE? 10 1/2, if you've worn 'em. Otherwise, 10.
RED OR PINK: Nonsense. Orange.
WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? I have developed a pot gut in the last six months. I am hoping it's cancer because I hate to diet.
WHOM DO YOU MISS THE MOST? Oh, boo. This almost makes me cry again. My wife.
WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Blue black.
LAST THING YOU ATE? Cherry cheesecake. They love me in the old folks' home.
WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? Myself think.
FAVORITE SMELL? After the rain.
WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? My chemist.
THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO? Boy howdy, I am a leg man. Do you know what has 2 arms, 2 wings, 3 heads, 3 bodies and 8 legs? A man on a horse holding a chicken.
DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON(S) WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? Oh, they are way fine.
FAVORITE DRINK? Root Beer Bourbon and water B&B.
FAVORITE SPORT? Pro football, college basketball.
EYE COLOR? Blue-green-sludge.
FAVORITE FOOD? Oysters Abalone Vienna Sausage.
LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED AT THE MOVIE THEATRE? Hellzapoppin? I don't know.
HUGS OR KISSES? Followed by a shack job.
WHAT DID YOU LAST READ? "Jersey -- Witches, Ghosts and Traditions." No shit.
WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? Picture of my grandson in basketball uniform.
WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? All-Star baseball. Tough luck, Nationals.
THE FURTHEST YOU'VE BEEN FROM HOME? Map, anyone? Ensenada, Mexico, or Miami, Fla.
WHAT'S YOUR SPECIAL TALENT? I am groovy and scram gravy ain't wavy.

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My favorite word today is remembrance. N., let's see, how did that go? Def.: Recalling something that wasn't quite as good as you thought it was.

To Put a Spin on It

Casey was entered in the Olympics Ice Skating competition. So he took the floor -- and put on the worst performance anybody had ever seen. He couldn't spin, fell three times and continuously ran into the sideboards.

So the judges scored his performance: India 0.0; Great Britain 0.0; Russia 0.0; United States 0.0; Ireland 10.0.

The United States judge turned to the Irish judge and said, "Are you out of your mind? That was terrible!" The Irish judge demurred: "It's very slippery out there, you know."

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A little boy was playing outdoors one day. His used his mother's broom as a horse and had a wonderful time until it began to get dark.

He left the broom on the back porch. His mother was cleaning up the kitchen when she realized her broom was missing. She asked the little boy if he knew where it was.

"It's on the back porch," he said. "Well, go get it for me, please," the mother said.

The boy told Mom that he was afraid of the dark. Well, said Mom, "The Lord is out there, too. Don't be afraid."

So the boy opened the back door a little and said, "Lord, if you're out there, hand me the broom."

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My favorite word today is death. N., and then you reincarnate, right? Def.: Life's way of telling you that you've been fired.

Give a Little Lot

I always knew you had an urge to be a good person. So now Ol’ Hoss gives you a chance to satisfy your deeper urge.

My new buddy, Monty, will be participating July 29 in a 24-hour blogathon for Cerebral Palsy research and care. She is looking for sponsors, which you will shortly be.

See, Monty is the mother of twins, a girl and a boy. The boy has cerebral palsy. But Monty maintains a stiff upper humor. For every $100 she gets pledged to the cause, she will sing a song on audio-phone or podcasted or whatever. Ain’t that neat? (The songs are really ditzy, but Monty is a lot of fun, which makes it all the more neat-o.)

So click on the Monty above, go over and pledge your little heart out. As they say, every little bit helps. But keep in mind that bigger bits help more.

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I’m going to hate myself in the morning, but I can’t resist telling you what I learned when I was dreaming last night: “Carrying babies must be easy; otherwise, they would have men doing it.”

(Bam! Crash! &%#^%$#&()&^$!sucker.) [Hmmm....seems like sounds of discontent among the lovely ladies who visit. Order up an investigation, Watson.]

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My favorite phrase today is successful father. N., can this be? Def.: A person who lets mommy tend to the potty training.

You Gotta Be Scandihoovian

I told you yesterday about my great trip north, from Salem to Seattle. One of the b**ggers I met there, Bonnie, is a graduate of Michigan State University, and loves her some Spartans. So she gave me a blank scoreboard, and I filled it in. This is to one-up her pal Vicki, a graduate of Michigan.

Sorry, Vicki. I guess you had to be there to defend yourself..

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Anyway, there I was at Zoka's Coffee, up in North Seattle, which is getting kind of famous. One of the owners is Tracy Allen, who is chairman of the Rules Committee of the "World Barista Championship." Didn't know about that, did you? Me neither.

A barista is an expert -- like a coffee sommelier -- in things coffee. Naturally, since the English drink tea and we drink coffee, you would expect us to be winning this thing hands down. No soap. In the seven years it has been held, the best showing by an American was third place this year. A Dane has won four times, a Norwegian once, and -- perhaps out of character -- an Australian sobered up enough to win the other time.

Competition is in three categories: espresso, cappuccino, and signature beverage, which must be espresso-based. No booze is allowed, which is why Americans can't win.

Now, back at home, the winner of the Las Vegas Latte Competition (for prettiest presentation) was none other than Reid Hickman, also of Zoka's Coffee fame. Here's his winning entry.

Anyway, this all explains why I paid $19.95 for a pound of beans grown in the shade in Panama. Now, all I need is an expensive espresso machine and I'll be all set.

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My favorite word today is immigration. N., hiring people to pick your nose. Def.: In a survey, 43 percent of the people said this is a serious problem; the other 57 percent said "no hablo ingles."

Speeding, Speeding Over the Bounding Main

The closer I got to home, the faster I went. On accounta it was bedtime. So I got 'er up to 82, which was plenty safe since the cops were far ahead chasing some guy who was doing 100.*

What I was doing was returning home from Seattle (400+ miles there and back; just call me Trucker Bob, who has been driving all over the place lately.) I went there to meet a couple of b**ggers -- Stargazer (Margaret) and Bonnie. We met at this sweet-smelling joint named Zoka's Coffee House, where I got the Thatcher special pound of beans for only $19.95.

Normally, I would say something like: "Here's a picture of Margaret and me. I am the pretty one." But, see, she's real pretty too, so I guess I have to tell you she's the one on the left. Otherwise, you wouldn't know.

Margaret is a pistol, an excellent conversationalist. She bought me a latte, which was terrible, but it wasn't her fault. It was my fault for not knowing what it was. So it goes. But get this in the Small World Dept.: She is a French teacher. Bonnie has a daughter who speaks lucid French and works for the French Chamber of Commerce in Manhattan.

(Can't you just imagine those two getting together: "Fooey grass" and "petty fours" and all that.)

Normally I would say something like: "Here's a picture of Bonnie and me. I am the pretty one." (Oh, we've been through that, heh?)

Surprise to me, but Bonnie doesn't have formal training in the arts, which embellish her b**g page most frequently. She says "I just like it," so she buys books and studies it when she's not having babies. Bonnie is the most Mommy of any Mommy I know: She has 11 children, all of them born at home.

I ask you: Does this look like a woman who has had 11 children? (She's the one on the left).

(*In case any cops are reading this, I lied. I never went over 70.)

(*In case there are no cops reading this, I touched 85 briefly. They don't call me Speedy Muldoon for nothing.)

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My favorite word today is voting. N., voters do it in secret. Def.: A legal way to stick it to the minorities.

Short Shrift Saturday #32

To a dog, you're family; to a cat, you're staff.

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A note from Him to Her: "Your doctor called. Your Pabst beer is normal."

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I got this site meter that tells me when somebody gets to my b**g by searching for odd things. You know about it. Happens all the time. Latest one is "cunnulingus free sample." You will be happy to know that my site was not No. 1 for this search. It was No. 2.

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A guy walks into a pet store and says, "You gonna let those kittens go cheap?"

And the owner says, "They prefer to go 'meow'."

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My favorite word today is virus. N., now let's see here. Def.: A word used by your doctor that means "I haven't a clue."

Hoss's Prime (Cheap) Sandwidges

Well, Ol' Margaret (Stargazer) has found me out. There she was in Hanover, PA, and she discovered one of my get-rich-quick steak and seafood houses. I wasn't going to tell anybody, but now that she got this picture, here's the truth: I got me a chain of these dudes what is selling 79-cent sandwidges. At 79 cents a pop, I will have me a Pile in no time.

(Let's see: Wages, 44 cents; ingredients, 34 cents; taxes,6 cents; profit, um.... well, you can see I will be Making My Pile.)

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As long as we are talking about me, which is your favorite subject, here's something else. From Pointmeister I got this site that does instant reviews of your b**g. These reviews are so instant they don't make sense (except, of course, for the plaudits thrown my way):

"REVIEW OF OLD HORSETAIL SNAKE

"I just saw Old Horsetail Snake. There are 61,637 characters in the file, which is a splendid length for Opera users. The page contains 206 links, a superb amount. The document is very structured. It must have taken many years to fine-tune the page. Seeing Old Horsetail Snake, I'm simply stunned, completely stunned. Just perfect.

"Gee. If only the Opera Homepage would have a superb page like that. It makes sense to me that Outside In (Vicki) put up a link to this page. Naturally, I expected the creator (Se7en) to achieve only the best. What a cool page! The color scheme is fresh. The URL has 41 characters. That's just the right size. The best of the best."

So, okay, Se7en gets most of the credit. Still....

(If you want to get a rave notice like this, go to Google Blogoscoped and enter your URL.)

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My favorite phrase today is sixth sense. N., this is eerie. Def.: The ability to smell a rat.

A True Believing Atheist

Feelgood Haines: "Hoss, I see in your piece yesterday you said you is a atheist. Some of your readers asked whether that was indeed true, and I am jumpin' right in. Is that right? You is a no-believer?"

Hoss: "Uh, yeah, something like that."

Feelgood: "Ain't you a pistol? So you don't believe in God or Angels or Satan or Tooth Fairies?"

Hoss: "Well, I think maybe the Tooth Fairy is real. And, of course, when I do a good deed I always get a receipt -- in case heaven is like the IRS."

Feelgood: "How about that, Heaven and Hell?"

Hoss: "Pretty fictional, Feelgood. I think heaven and hell is what we live right here on the ground. I could never cotton much to the idea of some invisible honcho keepin' book on me somewhere. And who said St. Pete could be the guardian to Heaven? How come it isn't Mother Teresa?"

Feelgood: "Streets of Gold? Heavenly Hosts? Mt. Ararat? Arafat? Any of those?"

Hoss: "No. Well, Arafat is busy turning into dust. Say, Feelgood, you ever see that bumper sticker that says 'Jesus loves you; everyone else thinks you're an asshole?'"

Feelgood: "I feel sorry for you Hoss."

Hoss: "Why's that?"

Feelgood: "The Jehovah's Witnesses will be all over you like a tall dog. You ain't never gonna get no peace. And, hell, if they ever give up on you, some of those Mormons gonna jump your bones. Poor bastard. What if you die?"

Hoss: "I got that covered."

Feelgood: "Covered?"

Hoss: "Yeah. I ain't plannin' on dying."

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My favorite word today is God. N., hello, Big Ernie. Def.: A comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh. --Voltaire.

This Is About King Tut

I swear it is. About King Tut. Really. Truly.

Here's an honest-to-goodness news clip:

"Yellow-green glass carved into a beetle-shaped ornament and found on a necklace worn by King Tut was created by a meteorite fireball.

"The carving is known as a scarab, which are ancient Egyptian fertility symbols, SHAPED LIKE DUNG BEETLES."

Hoo boy, is Hoss ever getting classy. King Tut and I. Boy howdy!

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Okay, so this b**g is about dung beetles. I give great thankees to Tisha for giving me these pictures. Of course, she had to, knowing how much I like manure dung beetles.

These pix she got at the Fort Worth TX zoo, where she and her family were idling while Uncle Bronc was getting his insides re-done (you don't want to know).

Anyway, King Tut and the dung beetles are A-OK, just like me.

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My favorite word today is atheist. N., sorry, Big Ernie. Def.: Me, who lacks invisible support.

Feelgood Explains the Fourth of July

We were having a nice nod-off in the Fireplace Room when Feelgood Haines thundered in.

Feelgood: "Hoss! I am so glad I caught you here. I am about to explain to this assemblage of personal people what is not much known about the Fourth of July. For instance, did you know our people were hacked at King George because he wouldn't let people emigrate to the US of A? Ain't that a burner, huh?"

Hoss: "Uh...snurfle...em...."

Feelgood: "Get up, Hoss. This is important. See, we used to be in favor of immigration. Now we're against it. Does the Supreme Court know about this?"

Hoss: "Put a lid on it, Feelgood."

Feelgood: "Now that I got your attention, get this from the Declaration of Independence, Missouri:

"He (King George III) has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavored to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages..."

Feelgood: "See, them redskins used to take scalps, which was no good. But now they're taking our dough in their damn casinos. Which is also no good. I think scientists would say this is 'too bad'."

Hoss: "Scientists, huh?"

Feelgood: "Are you listening? We are celebrating the 230th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence by Button Gwinnett. Wouldn't you like to have a name like that? Button. Boy howdy."

Hoss: "I'm not sure they signed on July the Fourth."

Feelgood: "Well, a course they dint. In fact, when they voted on it, Pennsylvania and South Caroline voted NO. You dint know that did ya, you old sonofabitch? No, you dint, no fakin' with me. That's prolly why Pennsylvania has all those liquor blue laws."

Hoss: "I DO know that one guy didn't even sign until 1781. He was thinking it over."

Feelgood: "Well, anyway, we got this song that's associated with the Fourth of July stuff, that's called 'Battle Hymn of the Republic'. And in there is this line: 'As ye deal with my contemners...' Holy dung beetles, Hoss, you ever see that word before? Nevertheless, let me polish this off with a quote from Ol' Tom Jefferson, who wrote this on declining an appearance at the 50th anniversary of independence:

'For ourselves, let the annual return of this day forever refresh our recollection of these rights [of men], and an undiminished devotion to them.'"

Feelgood: "Ta ra ra, boom de ay. That's how cherry bombs sound. Devoted cherry bombs."

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My favorite word today is contemner. Adj., ain't that a bitch? Def.: To treat with contempt; viz., a Simon Legree sneer.

I Am So Pretty. I Also Am Perfect.

Hoo boy! Ol' Hoss is perfect!

Well, you knew that.

Here's what happened: Momma K tries to get people to recognize other b**ggers by awarding them a "Perfect Post" button for b**gging above and below the call of duty. We nominators are sent a code for the Perfect Post button that we can send to b**ggers of our choice.

I wasn't sure I had the code right, so I put it in my own template as a test. Sure enough, it came up. AND THEN I FORGOT TO REMOVE IT.

Hah! It was amazing foresight on my part: Mother Pie (a.k.a. Hattie Page) nominated me for having done a Perfect Post. So now I am legal. (You scroll down a little, on top of my b**groll, and you can see my little Perfect Post button.) I am so pretty.

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Oh, you want to know which of my June masterpieces got selected for this award. All of them were prizewinners, of course. The one that was choosed out, though, was this guy. Where I preach to the choir, or maybe to the high school gradates. Something.

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You wanna see people falling down? Go here, where they do it with abandon.

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Over at Melissa's place you can find a whole bunch of things her mother taught her, such as:

My mother taught me RELIGION. "You better pray that will come out of the carpet."

My mother taught me ANTICIPATION. "Just wait till we get home."

Go visit to see a lot more bon mots. (Homilies?)

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My favorite phrase today is perfect lover. N., how sweet and sour he is. Def.: Someone who turns into a pizza at 4 a.m. --George Pierce.

Short Shrift Saturday #31

Ya'll know what my sister
Tan Lucy Pez says: You say "Rabbit! Rabbit!" at the first of each month, and you will have good luck the whole month long. Then, just to be evil, you put up a picture of a rabbit (or two) on your site.

I don't know if these count as real rabbits, but they're randy enough for me.

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The blonde walks up to the librarian and asks, "How do you spell 'tequila'?" So the librarian obliges, and the blonde leaves.

Pretty soon, the blonde is back. "I still can't find it," she says.

The librarian says, "Find what?"

"Tequila Mockingbird."

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Signs of the times?

In a Rumanian hotel elevator: "The lift is being fixed for the next few days. During that time we regret that you will be unbearable."

In a Copenhagen ticket office: "We take your baggage and send it in all directions."

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It was 102 degrees in Salem, OR, last Monday. This is called global warm enough.

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My favorite word today is au one. N., half a nanny. Def.: When the au pair won't do windows.