Well, more good news. We just found out that we lost our dart location…again! Those of you who have been around for a while know this happened to us a couple of years ago when the Elks Lodge suddenly and without cause threw us out of their basement. Now, the Side Pocket, where we play is being forced to close, (through no fault of their own) which means that we are also being forced to find a new home. Now, they may find a new home that has enough room for us, in which case we will have a new home OR we may find a new place willing to give us a couple of walls to throw darts at a couple of days a week. I guess that is going to play out over the next couple of weeks. We just happen to be between seasons, so it’s not as disruptive as it could have been.
So Putin is losing his mind, and Biden doesn’t have one, so the world is spinning out of control. It’s all about energy. Specifically oil. And yet, Biden won’t put the damn oil sanctions in place that NEED to be put into place and won’t start up oil production in the United States that NEED to be started up. The two biggest things that need to be done and they are not being done. WHAT THE FUCK, Biden? Open up the Keystone Pipeline you idiot!
And to see their political figures picking up weapons to defend their cities and their homes is so impressive! Can you see OUR political figures picking up rifles to defend our country? That’s laughable. Some would. I can think of a few who would do it…but not many and certainly not like the Ukrainians are!
I joined an online grief group. I haven’t really participated yet, just read other people’s posts. Not sure I’m going to. I may throw my two-cents worth in at some point in time, but reading through the posts, it’s almost like … I don’t know … they don’t seem to mesh with what I’m feeling … or they aren’t writing or expressing it that way. Or it could be that I’m just not seeing it. They have a HUGE following, like 3.6K followers. So, you can’t expect everyone to be a great writer, but still.
And talk about calling the kettle black, reading through what I’ve written so far this morning, I should definitely not be casting aspersions on other writers. Sheesh! I know I have my own “voice” but it’s a bit scratchy this morning. So, let’s get to the laughter. Seems like we really need it this morning.
Our friend of the show “Friggin’ Pete” sent this next one, and I agree with him 101%! It is a beautiful picture.
Of all the things I have ever posted, this photo is one of my very favorites.
It says so much without saying a word.
My question, especially given the time frame, is how is Tom connected to the Clintons? That, then could explain everything.
Yeah, at a friggin’ minimum!
Yeah, I cook a bunch of stuff myself, too.
Just heard that Putin just put his nuclear forces on high alert in response to NATO increased expansion. He’s a fucking mad man. Someone needs to stop him now!
I read books, I drink coffee, and I know things.
This next one is from Lynn … not her usual fare, but fun and funny none-the-less:
I went grocery shopping recently while not being altogether sure that the course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous evening I had prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my patented ‘you’re definitely going to shit yourself’ chili. Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being painful, which comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat it, the next day both of your butt cheeks will fall off.
Here’s the thing. I had awakened that morning, and even after two cups of coffee (and all of you know what I mean) nothing happened. No ‘Watson’s Movement 2’. Despite habanero peppers swimming their way through my intestinal tract, I was unable to create the usual morning symphony referred to by my next door neighbors as ‘thunder and lightning.’
Knowing that a time of reckoning HAD to come, yet not sure of just when, I bravely set off for the market, a local Wal-Mart grocery store that I often haunt in search of tasty tidbits.
Upon entering the store at first all seemed normal. I selected a cart and began pushing it about dropping items in for purchase. It wasn’t until I was at the opposite end of the store from the restrooms that the pain hit me.
Oh, don’t look at me like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m referring to that ‘Uh, oh, gotta go’ pain that always seems to hit us at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was different.
The habaneros in the chili from the night before were staging a revolt. In a mad rush for freedom they bullied their way through the small intestines, forcing their way into the large intestines, and before I could take one step in the direction of the restrooms which would bring sweet relief, it happened. The peppers fired a warning shot.
There I stood, alone in the spice and baking aisle, suddenly enveloped in a noxious cloud the likes of which has never before been recorded. I was afraid to move for fear that more of this vile odor might escape me. Slowly, oh so slowly, the pressure seemed to leave the lower part of my body, and I began to move up the aisle and out of it, just as an elderly woman turned into it.
I don’t know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what her reaction would be to the malodorous effluvium that refused to dissipate. Have you ever been torn in two different directions emotionally? Here’s what I mean, and I’m sure some of you at least will be able to relate.
I could’ve warned that poor woman but didn’t. I simply watched as she walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so terrible that all she could do before gathering her senses and running, was to stand there blinking and waving her arms about her head as though trying to ward off angry bees. This, of course, made me feel terrible, but then made me laugh. …….BIG mistake!!!!!
Here’s the thing. When you laugh, it’s hard to keep things ‘clamped down’, if you know what I mean. With each new guffaw an explosive issue burst forth from my nether region. Some were so loud and echoing that I was later told a few folks in other aisles had ducked, fearing that someone was robbing the store and firing off a shotgun.
Suddenly things were no longer funny. ‘It’ was coming, and I raced off through the store towards the restrooms, laying down a cloud the whole way, praying that I’d make it before the grand my ass explosion took place.
Luck was on my side. Just in the nick of time I got to the john, began the inevitable ‘Oh my God’, floating above the toilet seat because my ass is burning SO BAD, purging. One poor fellow walked in while I was in the middle of what is the true meaning of ‘Shock and Awe’ . He made a gagging sound, and disgustedly said, “Son of a bitch!”, then quickly left.
Once finished I left the restroom, re-acquired my partially filled cart intending to carry on with my shopping when a store employee approached me and said, “Sir, you might want to step outside for a few minutes. It appears some prankster set off a stink bomb in the store. The manager is going to run the vent fans on high for a minute or two which ought to take care of the problem.”
That of course set me off again, causing residual gases to escape me. The employee took one sniff, jumped back pulling his shirt up to cover his nose and, pointing at me in an accusing manner shouted, “IT’S YOU!.” Then he ran off, returning moments later with the manager. I was unceremoniously escorted from the premises and asked none too kindly not to return.
Home again without having shopped, I realized that there was nothing to eat but leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I went to shop at Kroger’s. I can’t say anymore about that because we are in court over the whole matter. Bastards claim they’re going to have to repaint the store.