Good Morning Kind and Understanding Campers,
My head hurts.
And I mean that metaphorically this morning rather than actually. Well, actually, I think my head does hurt a little this morning, but that’s probably the caffeine low-low-level light that’s blinking amber in the corner of my eye that functions as my HUD or Heads Up Display. That should be easily fixed with a couple more of these sexy things and I should be right as rain. A saying which comes from the inevitableness of dreariness.
No, my head hurts from the continued stupidity of our nation. But, is there really any reason to get into that this morning? Is there really any reason to continue to pound that deceased equine into further pulverized horse meat? I think not. You moronic imbeciles know who you are who are being led by the nose rings that you have willingly placed upon yourselves and no pontification by this blue dragon will sway you from your own self-destructive paths. You are idiots, rightfully gained by your own hands and by your own hands you shall fall.
For those of you who are protesting righteously I have the utmost respect and regard and for those police and now national guard who are there to keep the peace I salute you in a situation that is untenable on both sides. I would wish that both sides have made their point and can now go home and await justice to slide along is grindingly slow course, but alas, I know it can’t be so. Thus, the rest of us must sit and watch as this tragedy plays out on the world stage night after night while the witches and demons sit off stage and cackle with delight.
I would that God would bless us with a Summer Blizzard, nationwide, to send everyone back to their huts and hovels. But no. Tis not to be so.
So, for us campers, huddled around our warm fire, let us move onto other things this fine morning, and mayhaps to banish the bullshit with laughter and chase the foul spirits of mayhem to other corners.
I heard a two-year-old refer to her pockets as “snack holes” and this is what I shall forever call them.
A penny for your thoughts.
Five bucks if they’re dirty.
Hey! That’s a GREAT feature!
Doctor: Have you been drinking enough fluids?
Me: That’s literally all I drink.
What a time to be alive, when computers ask humans to prove they’re not robots.
If anyone has any doubt that things have gotten weird during the pandemic, please consider today’s report from Forest Park, Illinois. A business owner called the cops when she received a suspicious package which she could not identify. Fearing that the package might contain a bomb, officers opened the package in a safe area. Well, it did contain an explosive device of sorts, but not the kind to do any damage. Inside was a tubular shaped object with a spring inside. Upon removal of the top, it revealed itself to be a glitter bomb, ejecting multi colored pieces of glitter. And not just regular glitter, either. These pieces of glitter were in the shape of little tiny penises. Anyone with any information as to who sent the love bomb is asked to call the cops.
Bozo criminal for today comes from Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, where the cops noticed our bozo acting strangely in a public park. A quick check of his person found methamphetamine, marijuana and some unidentified pills in the pocket of his jeans. Before they could arrest him, he offered up the Bozo Excuse of the Week. While he did not deny he was in possession of the drugs, he did deny ownership of the pants. Yep, he said, “Those are not my pants.” The officers offered their sympathy, but advised our bozo that you should always check the pockets before putting on someone else’s jeans. He’s busted!
Did you know: Lettuce is a member of the Sunflower family.
Nope. Didn’t know. Don’t know that I even care. But thanks.
Did you know: The real Captain Morgan, the namesake behind the brand of Rum, was a Welsh Buccaneer who later became Lieutenant Governor of Jamaica.
Nope, didn’t know that, either. Boy, you’re just full of information today. Oh … and the answer is … on the side of his bucking head! ha, ha, ha, ha … … … what? Oh come on! You know you were thinking it!
Did you know: (oh geez) Not all turkeys gobble. Only males do, which is why male turkeys are called “Gobblers”!
Sigh. Nope, didn’t know that either. But you know, I had this girlfriend once … yeah … never mind.
Not this girlfriend I was talking … yeah … never mind.
Attack of the Motivational Posters!!! The Js … which means … Julie Newmar is down there somewhere!!!!!!
Oh NO!!! Not my Jersey Girls!!!! No way!!!! That’s Wrong!!! Just so WRONG!!!!
Come on all you Jersey Girls out there, tell it like it is!!!!
And with that little bit of wisdom comes an end to today’s missive. There will be no issue on Wednesday since I will on base all day on Tuesday. So, until we meet again on Thursday, stay safe, stay happy, stay loving and stay laughing.
Cheers ~ Impish Dragon
We Jersey girls do not wait to be picked up. We wait for someone worthy of our time! Oh that is often a long wait…cant live with moma…must have a FULL time job…own a car that runs…..see we often wait usually the 2 or 3 out there are in the service or already married.
The grandma with the hit list on her car . . . Well, that would be me if rioters came after my car, like I have seen i so many videos.
I am a mental mess. As a strong believer that everyone should wear masks, I am angry that the masks block the identity of the looters. Oh, and id you notice most all of them wore hoodies . . . makes sense, that is the logo of hoods!
I thought that you might appreciate this old story:
One evening, a woman was working on completing a jingle to win a large
cash prize from Carnation Milk. Carnation furnished the first line, “I
like Carnation best of all,” and it was to be completed in 50 words or
less. A couple of months later, the woman was surprised when a Carnation
Milk representative came to her door and told her entry was the best,
but it couldn’t be published, and they were giving her a consolation
award of $1,000.00.
Here is her entry:
I like Carnation best of all,
No tits to pull, no shit to haul.
No barns to clean, no hay to pitch,
Just punch a hole in the son of a bitch.
Keep safe. All the best.