After working this poor guy over with a 20 gauge shot to the chest, Damsel picked up her .357 and nailed him several more times in the chest and a couple of times in the head. Her last shot left him with a “surprised” look on his face — he seems to be saying “oh!”. We had a good laugh at it.
Damsel, whom I love with the greatest of admiration and passion, never fails to find nuggets of wonder in the “outer blogosphere.” “James Earl Jones IS Darth Vader” might have escaped my attention on Garfield Ridge had she not called me over to have a look. Very funny.
Having heard about possible negligence, the two most culpable proponents of the Big Dig head off to fix the problem.
Actually, HATE letters FROM the sand . . .
Once again, Cox and Forkum get it:
Cox & Forkum: From Iran With Hate
Read our old post on the Four Most Dangerous Men in the World.
Often I look at the logs that are recorded when someone accesses our blog. Often I see weird things in the search strings that direct traffic to us. I decided to share some of this weirdness with you.
This makes me wonder if all this blog-bloviating (blogviating?) is warming the environment.
Is Law and Order’s moonbat Belzer not telling us something?
This landed here legitimately since I blogged about magnetic moondust properties
Somebody has their Star Whores mixed up – Charlie Sheen thinks that.
You won’t find any of that here . . .
You won’t find any of that here either . . .
Perhaps someone looking for animated beach porn girls in the bath house? Sorry, look elsewhere . . .
I wonder if the searcher was surprised to see a picture of Neil Gabler who looks like such a toy.
This isn’t silly at all. I’m glad that people searching for this information have an opportunity to get our viewpoint on environmental topics.
Damsel blogged about one of her flowers that is planted in a whiskey barrel, but it’s not in Los Angeles.
This is also legitimate. See Damsel’s Damselfish.
Maybe somebody thought he heard that Neal had a vision about animated porn beach girls in a bath house or something . . .
She’s the whore of a whole lot more than babylon . . .
Steve Marconi, a free-lance writer and resident in our area, prepared a list of “amenities we didn’t have in 1951.” I enjoyed reading the article in the Daily Breeze and want to pass along a few of my favorites from Steve’s List:
• The remote control. Television itself was fairly new, but it didn’t take long to come up with the remote — the two-legged kind Dad operated by lying on the couch (we called it a davenport back then) and saying, “Stevie, turn the TV to Channel 4.”
• The F-word. Oh, we had it all right, but you never heard it in polite company. Refined women never said it, and if kids said it, well, have you ever wondered what soap tastes like?
• Self-serve gasoline stations. They were called “service” stations because someone actually came out and pumped your gas, washed your windows and checked your oil. That was what service was. And you could ask for directions because the serviceman could speak English. Really.
• Timeouts. Back when kids actually respected their elders and didn’t talk back to parents, we had corporal punishment. At home that could mean a belt or a switch or the nearby kitchen spoon applied to the bottom. At school that meant swats with a paddle, not just a visit to the office. For most, it worked. For some, it meant years of therapy.
• Whiteboards. There is an entire generation of students that hasn’t had the excruciating pleasure of hearing fingernails scrape across an old-fashioned slate chalkboard. Think amplifier feedback that raises the hair on the back of your neck — only worse.
• Body piercings. Disfiguring your face, tongue and other body parts used to be considered a form of torture. We thure were thtupid back then.
• Tattoos. Amazing how what used to define a sailor or a criminal has become a fashion statement.
If you enjoyed these few, please read the rest. It’s certainly worth your time.
