Call the Midwife on Dust Bunny Queen!

Child rearing techniques have really changed since I was a kid. I was talking with Dust Bunny Queen and she was telling me about how the classes that expectant moms go to are very different.

They don't even have the one run by Lucky Strike anymore.

Today's Mom's are really missing out.

And the horse she rode in on.................

There is this older drunken bleached blond nasty woman who is the subject of hundreds of comments each day on the internet. She is a horrible person who has nasty feuds and bitter disputes and just can’t get along with anyone. Her family are basically enablers who allow her to act out this way. It is a function of her alcohol abuse or maybe just her nasty disposition. She polarizes. Some people are her partisans and other people despise her. Her name:

Kim Richards.

She is one of the Housewives on the “Real Housewives of Beverly Hills” that just wrapped up their season. One of the main themes was the fact that she was an addict who was acting out and some of the women thought she needed help. Maybe rehab or an intervention. Kim went off the rails fighting this. She attacked everyone else. Her sister. Her other cast members. She pointed her boney finger and claimed the problem was everyone talking about her. That she had only one “slip” where she took her dying ex-husbands pill because she was in 100% pain because of bronchitis, pneumonia or a hernia. Pick one because she offered all them up as excuses at one time or another.

So she would deflect and attack and insist that everyone else was wrong and that she was sober and they all wanted to hurt her. That they didn't understand what she was saying. That they had their own secrets that she could reveal that would make them look a lot worse than she ever did.

It all finally blew up this season. Her dog bit her niece’s hand and sent her to the hospital for a week-long stay. After the dog had savaged a family friend who is suing her and the television production company. Kim deflected and never apologized. She blamed her niece and said she could tell the whole story but didn't want to put it out there for everyone to know. Which was bullshit. She had a dog that had bitten several other people and it savaged her niece. That was the turning point for most of her fans (It happened on a Sunday by the way. Bad shit happens on Sundays when you drink).

Originally I was a big fan of Kim Richards. I was banned from “Television Without Pity” because I posted too many comments defending her in a previous season. I thought she was getting a bad deal and that too many people were going after her when she didn’t deserve it. Not anymore. She showed me what she was all about in the way she treated people this season. Her narcissism and sense of entitlement were off the charts. And her. A Child Star.

I am generally an all or nothing guy. Good or evil. Right or Wrong. Nuance is for pussies. Once you lose me you don’t get me back. You are either for us or against us. So I am on the hate Kim Richards train. Metaphorical  hate of course. You know internet hate. Where you mock her and say nasty shit and laugh at her pretensions and troubles. Because she deserves it.

So I was noodling along on the “Previously TV” boards in the discussion about the last reunion episode and somebody mentioned that Kim was bad but she wasn't Hitler. I went “wait a minute she is definitely worse than Hitler.” I proceeded to my patented method of beating a horse to death by making comment after comment with joke after joke. It helps to be familiar with the show to understand the jokes but I liked them. For example:

“Hitler once borrowed one of Goering's pain pills because he was in 100% pain because of bronchitis, pneumonia and a hernia.

The next thing you know he invaded Poland.

And he still isn't as bad as Kim Richards.”

So these stupid jokes got a huge bunch of “likes” and people were enjoying them until the moderator posted a comment to ask that we stop with the Hitler jokes. Now why would he do that? Probably because some weak sisters complained. Lots of people liked it. Some did not. But they want to squash it. I had some good natured back and forth with him in the private message function and decided to drop it. I don’t need to get banned from another site.

Now that thread is non-stop life affirmation stories about addiction and mother problems. Boring Oprah shit to the max. I would like to protest that noise but it will not fly. I guess that is the kind of crap that they want to see over there. As rh would say it is the soap opera woman and who am I to say nay? It is really a woman's show after all.

Now the way the moderator handle it is the way to handle a dispute. You talk to the person. You don’t go into the comments on attack mode and not expect to get attacked right back. You should expect to get as good as you give. Or worse if you are not witty or funny or interesting.  As I said before you lose me then that’s that. I believe in vendetta and going to mattresses. I might forget about you and move on to other things but once we are the outs there ain't no way back. That's just the way I am and I am too old to change my evil ways.

Kim Richards has lost me. I will attack her with nasty but hopefully funny comments. I have no patience for people who want to defend her and say that it is not fair to dump on her. Sometimes it is the only thing to do.

Kim Richards got arrested this weekend for causing a commotion at the Polo Lounge where she was drunk and harassing other patrons. When she was arrested she kicked a cop. And there are still people who want to protect and enable her. Later for that shit.

Some drunken blond dumb shits deserve all the crap they get. And then some.

Grief

Shall I wither and fall like an autumn leaf,
From this deep sorrow - from this painful grief?
How can I go on or find a way to be strong?
Will I ever again enjoy life's sweet song?

Sometimes a warm memory sheds light in the dark
And eases the pain like the song of a Meadow Lark.
Then it flits away on silent wings and I'm alone;
Hungering for more of the light it had shone.

Shall grief's bitter cold sadness consume me,
Like a winter storm on the vast angry sea?
How can I fill the void and deep desperate need
To replant my heart with hope's lovely seed?

Then I look at a photo of your luscious red face
And for a moment I escape to a serene happy place;
Remembering the laughter and all you would do,
Cherishing the honest, caring, loving taste of you.

Shall spring's cheerful buds bring life anew
And allow me to forget the agony of missing you?
Will spring's burst of new life bring fresh hope
And teach my grieving soul how to cope?

The Case of the Demented Diasporia

My dear Holmes,

It is your most humble petitioner, Inspector Lestrade. It has been some time since I have stopped requesting assistance in the troubling matter of the salon frequented by Lady Chatterley and her merry band of sycophants, lickspittles and refugees from Bedlam. That curious case had dragged on and on but is now considered dead. It seems to have escaped the notice of so many who at one time claimed the deepest interest and concern, but seems that den of iniquity has sunken into irrelevancy and is no longer our concern. However now it seems that new developments in different precincts lead me to believe that we must concentrate on more immediate concerns.

As I had previously noted in one of  my prior missives, I or my agents had at one time or another have attended many of the salons of the noted conversationalist and dilettante Lady Chatterley where Lord Douchebag was a frequent and much valued guest. In fact it has been told to me that the Lady in question has often referred to him as wonderful. What is most striking is that his name has not passed the lips of any of the many participants for lo these many months and it is as if he never existed. He is never referred to or referenced in any way which is passing strange since so many professed an acute admiration for his talents such as they were.  This place is now deserted and lonely most of the time as so many of the participants have fled to what they must feel are more salubrious environment.

The Yard has ceased its inquiries into the doings of this perverted salon as contact has soiled the reputations and the very psyche of any agents we have sent to observe the untoward activities of these demented sybarites. It seems that this group has scattered to the four winds never to be gathered together in its disreputable glory. Several have decamped to a pestilence filled tavern run by a drunken Latin sailor who has not two wits to rub together. It had some currency for a while but now it seems to be have been mostly deserted as most have been chased away by the ranting conversation of the chef who never lets one word do the work when fifty could be shouted at the top of his lungs. His discourses on politics and society are loudly and emphaticly shouted and most ignore it as best they can because they wait his discussion of the proper preparation of spotted dick which is his specialty.

Some others of these poor souls have decamped for all places a solicitor’s office where conversation is carried on in muted tones subject to rules and regulations that are beyond my keen. The level of discourse seems quite banal yet soothing to many of a limited intellect and diminished sensibility similar to that of a toad or turtle. How this has come to pass is a mystery but it is to be hoped that these people will amuse themselves sufficiently so that they will not trouble the rest of society.

My question to you is do you know of a way to ensure that this rabble will be contained in these various sinkholes and kept away from any social intercourse with the rest of our society. I feel that the safety of her Majesty’s realm depends upon it.

I hope all is well with you and Doctor Watson and I hope that he has recovered from that strange malady that struck him last December. I note that he has not returned to the club since he lost all of his hair and the little finger on his left hand. I trust that this was the result of a case and not a more serious malady. I can suggest certain exercises that might ensure the return of certain hirsute characteristics but it would only be effective for his palm and not help him with the loss of a finger so to speak.

In any event give him my regards.

I remain as always,
Your obedient servant,
Inspector G. Lestrade
Scotland Yard
December 15, 1899

If there is a weasel in the pumpkin.......

It must be time for a "Best of Lawnboy" on the Gardening Channel. Just sayn'

Demented Nurse danger to herself and others

Drudge Report October 15, 2014
Cops arrested a nurse in northeastern Wisconsin in connection with the deaths of as many as 38 blog commenters , whom she might have killed because she found them — or their relatives — annoying, officials said.

Police have the cellphone of Inga Batta Binga, 72, which included a photo she snapped a few months ago of her giving a thumbs up next to a blogger who had died moments before after engaging in a five hour flame war on a legal blog.

“I can assure you in that all my professional years of seeing shocking photos, there were few such as these,” prosecutor Alessandro Mancini said.

Batta Binga, who lives in the town of Madison was taken into custody over the weekend and booked for the alleged slaying of  a 78-year-old commenter, who died from an injection of potassium after battling the murderous nurse for the past six months in various venues.

The internet police had thought that Nurse Batta Binga had been controlled and quarantined as she had focused her blogging activities on a nerdly law blog where she was in a constant bare knuckled mud bath fight with a elderly retired private detective who has fought with her in various venues across the internets.  However much like Ebola her virus can not be contained and might effect other parts of the interwebs. Therefore extreme care must be taken and the Center for Demeted Blogger Control advises that anyone reading her insane demented howling should wear protective garments at all times.....

Developing...........

.

The Case of the Solicitor's Suitor.

My dear Holmes,

It is your most humble petitioner, Inspector Lestrade. As you know it has been several years since I have last requested your assistance in the troubling matter of the disappearance of Lord Douchebag and over a year since we examined the obscene affairs of the odious Lady Chatterley and her grass stained lover. Today I must ask for assistance in an entirely different matter.

It seems that one of most astute detectives has gone over the moon and lost all of his professional perspective. You will remember Inspector Bradstreet who so ably assisted your inquires in the matter of the Blue Carbuncle last Yuletide past. It seems that the inimitable Bradstreet has become enamored with the discourse of a lowly penny dreadful publisher who is amazingly enough a solicitor! Inspector Bradstreet sends over notes and telegrams and posts every few minutes. He comments on the musings of every other person who contacts this somewhat pusillanimous prevaricator to the point of obsession that is most unseemly to a Detective of his stature of Scotland Yard. Inspector Bradstreet constantly touts the musings of this discourse and seeks converts and followers with the zeal of the most fanatic Spanish evangelist. He even attempted to proselytize Inspector Gregson who as you might remember has fallen into a dreamlike revere as he contemplates his own bowel movements and small rather ugly spaniels.

I must confess that this state of affairs has dumbfounded me as I had always considered Inspector Bradstreet as an estimable personage and fount of good common sense wisdom. Since you had worked closely with him I beg your indulgence and ask for your assistance. Would it possible for you to talk to Inspector Bradstreet to remind him that all solicitors are at base corrupt and debased and not to be trusted in the realm of social intercourse. He has seemed to have lost all perspective and acts like a follower of that noted fop and socialist Wilde. I only prey that he has not adopted any of his more outré practices that might come to the attention of the upper echelon of the yard.

Please give my best to your brother Mycroft who I recall has moved to countryside of Yorkshire to work on his art. I hope he was not offended that I returned his etching of the naked Greek boys frolicking in a banana grove but I am afraid that it was not to my taste and did indeed scandalize my wife. Please assure him that I do appreciate his talent and if ever he assays a depiction of beagles playing whist on black velvet I would most assuredly place it in a place of honor above my familial hearth.

I remain as always,
Your obedient servant,
Inspector G. Lestrade
November 12, 1898

The Rifleman

Lucas and Mark McCain rode into the town of Northfork to pick up some supplies. They had to do that every episode because Lucas was too poor to buy everything at once and he always had to find new people to shoot. He couldn't just wait for them to ride up to his porch.

They stopped at the general store and tied up their horses. Lucas had a long list and he wanted to spark Miss Milly without his son hanging around.

"Why don't you go off and find your friends Mark. I have to do some bidness with Miss Milly and I don't need a youngun underfoot." Mark laughed. "Are you going to knead Miss Milly's titties Pa. I think they need some kneading like our sourdough mash." "Go on with you son before I cut a switch and give you a whooping. Miss Milly's titties are none of your concern. Go spark some young filly your own age. Go on...git"

Lucas playfully swatted at him with his hat and Mark scamped off down the street.

He saw his friends Nick and Timmy standing in the street. Well actually Timmy was standing there holding his flute with his other hand in his overalls. Little Nick was laying partly under the boardwalk trying to look up ladies dresses. He had a bad habit that way.

"Hey Timmy. Hey Nick." "Hey yourself Mark how are you?" "What's you doing?" "Nuthun. Just waiting for school to start."

Nick got up from under the boardwalk. "It is so dead in this town. I hope your Pa is going to shoot someone. Maybe Lying Larry. That would be mighty fine." "I don't think so" said Mark. "Lying Larry has been very quiet lately. Old lady Annie must be keeping him right busy down at her spread. He must be plowing or sumtin I don't reckon we want to know the details." "Darn tootin' we don't" said Timmy as he kept squeezing both of his flutes"I don't want to even think about her spread.""Hey let's take a walk down to the pond. I hear a couple of the girls might be having a picnic down there today. Maybe we can pull their pig tails or get them to chase us or sumtin like we do at recess when school is on." Nick just shook his head at his friend. "That's kid stuff Timmy. Why would you want to do that? You need to just talk to a girl. To get her to take a walk with you. Out in the woods." "Why would you do that Nick" asked Mark. "I don't know but my brother does that and the girls always come back with their dress on backwards. There must be something to it. I want to try anyways."

The three boys walked out to the pond on the road side out of town. Four of the girls from town were having a tea party at the old swimming hole. They had spread a blanket and were sipping from pretend cups of tea and chattering away. There was little red headed Ruthie and Queenie and RC and little Debbie. They seemed to be arguing.

"I don't believe it" said Ruthie. "President Grant wouldn't do that. He won the war after all. He wouldn't be all mean to the Injun's like that." As usual Queenie was full of good sense. "It was all that Custer's fault. He didn't know his beans and he got all his men kilt. It is as simple as that. Don't be a fool RC." As usual nobody could understand what RC was talking about. She sputtered "Well I knew before and said then what was and could be but so it goes." Ruthie shook her head and turned to Little Debbie. "Do you know what she is talking about?" Little Debbie shook her head. She leaned in closer and confided in her friends like she knew a big secret. "It was the Hebrews. They were behind the Indians killing our soldiers. Everyone knows that."

The boys looked at each other. Stopped in their tracks. Turned around and walked back to down.

"Let's go look in the window of the Mercantile" said Nick. "Maybe we can watch Mark's Pa squeeze Miss Milly's titties. We don't want to be a part of that mess back there." "Amen" said Mark and Timmie in unison. Some things are better not to fool with. Even a kid knows that.

The Case of the Traveling Collections

My dear Holmes,

It is your most humble petitioner, Inspector Lestrade. It has been quite some time since I have last requested your assistance in the troubling matter of the disappearance of Lord Douchebag and the obscene affairs of the odious Lady Chatterley and her grass stained lover. Today I must ask for assistance in an entirely different matter.

We here at the Yard are well aware of the secret work you brother Mycroft had formerly been engaged with the Foreign Office. It is the reason we have not inquired too closely into the comings and goings of various swarthy sepoys, tattooed lascars and young deaf boys in his rooms at the club. A recent difficulty with certain foreign powers has caused some concern with my superiors and I would like to address them with you.

However it seems that the Yard must now make inquiries. It has come to our attention that your brother has been evicted from his lodgings and is temporary indisposed. He has found shelter with friends in Hampshire  as he has temporarily ended his work with watercolors and etchings that had previously been his hobby and salvation. I know that your brother has never sought remuneration in the amount that his talent deserves and therefore is temporarily out of pocket. Dr. Watson has told me that he was forced to store most of his furnishing in the attic and basement of one of Mrs. Hudson’s other properties but that this situation must soon come to an end. Dr. Watson had stated that you are trying to gather sufficient funds to move these treasured items to your much loved siblings new abode so he might continue his avocation of creating beauty in this troubled vail of tears.

Please know that I would endeavor to contribute to the cause along with my brethren including Inspectors Gregson, Higgins and Reade. In fact many of those who you have aided in the commission of their duties stand ready to contribute what they can. The salary of a mere constable or inspector is not great but we still can contribute something to help your estimable brother.

Please be sure to inform me of how to transmit these funds so they might be most properly be utilized. I would imagine it would be expensive to safely transport Mycroft’s collection of narwhale tusks, rubber garments, hookah bowls and statues of hairless Greek boys. Early begun is soonest done so I beseech you to keep your friends informed as to how we might assist in this endeavor.

My best to Doctor Watson and I hope he is recovered from his recent troubles with his distended bowel. When last I saw him he was in great pain and I hope he has found ease by resting his fundament on that circular pillow of his invention.

I remain as always,
Your obedient servant,
Inspector G. Lestrade
November 12, 1898

The Case of the Hebraic Hesitation

My dear Holmes,

It is your most humble petitioner, Inspector Lestrade. It has been quite some time since I have last requested your assistance in the troubling matter of the disappearance
of Lord Douchebag and the obscene affairs of the odious Lady Chatterley and her grass stained lover. Today I must ask for assistance in an entirely different matter.

We here at the Yard are well aware of the secret work you brother Mycroft does with the Foreign office. It is the reason we have not inquired too closely into the comings and goings of various swarthy sepoy’s and tattooed lascars in his rooms at the club. However a recent difficulty with certain foreign powers has caused some concern with my superiors and I would like to address them with you.

It seems that your brother has obtained a strange and perverted friendship with a young baker who has an establishment strangely enough right on Baker’s Street. It is not inconceivable that your brother might conceive a friendship with a tradesman. What is strange is that this tradesman is in fact a woman. We are well aware of Mr. Mycroft Holmes affinity for snack cakes and pastries but in all of our experience we have yet to see him attempt social intercourse with a member of the opposite sex. This of course led to some interest from my superiors if only because of the secrets entrusted to his care.

It seems that this hoyden has tempted your brother with delicious snack cakes and pastries to such a degree that he is passing some state secrets that were best kept in the confines of the Foreign office. Our investigation has shown that he might not even be aware of this but that his greed for tasty sugary treats has loosened not only his considerable bowels but his tongue as well.

As I am sure you are aware the Foreign office has been in negotiation with the Sultan of Araby regarding some mining concessions and coaling stations on the coast of Persia. This exotic and secretive land has long been a source of contention among the great powers. Now it seems they have resources that her Majesty’s government must access in the most expeditious manner possible. However the internal affairs of this despotic pesthole have precluded direct discussions.  It seems the attacks and murders of their Hebrew citizens have been so scandalous that Prime Minister Disraeli has refused to negotiate with them. This would seem to stem from the fact that Dizzy is in fact a Hebrew but it also can be ascribed to the barbarous behavior of these carpet fanciers. Negotiations have stalled.

Your brother has been the one voice who has stood firm against the Prime Minister in this matter. I have been charged with determining whether this is his own belief or the influence of his new friend. It seems this baker has some animus towards those of the Hebraic persuasion and might unduly influence your brother by withholding her tasty treats as it were. I would ask for your indulgence in this matter and your assistance in getting to the bottom of this matter.

As an aside with regards to bottoms you might assure your brother that we have hushed up the recent incident that he was involved with at the orphanage.  He will of course have to accept the fact that he will not be able to foster the young untouchable that he had wanted to adopt from the slums of Delhi. This issue is closed and should not factor into your discussion regarding the Persians and the Jews.

My best to Doctor Watson and I hope he is recovered from his recent bout with pink eye. When last I saw him he was squinting to such a degree that I ventured to jest that he had begun to resemble a Chinese woman. Please assure him that was not in fact an allusion to the size of his breasts. We all increase in weight as we age. I trust he will forgive my impertinence and join you in your efforts in this matter.

I remain as always,
Your obedient servant,
Inspector G. Lestrade
November 12, 1898

A Modest Proposal

I would like to make a modest proposal. Since so many of you like my vacation photo's I would like some of my richer readers to donate about $20,000 so we can go on a cruise to Italy.

Since you guys are so fond of our vacation and coverage and don't spend any money to help us travel it is really only right that you give us money. I mean you get all this great blog content for free after all so I think at the very least Lisa and I deserve a free trip to Italy.

It is only right.

We accept Visa, MasterCard, American Express, travelers checks and Paypal.

Marilyn's diary

I really hated my cousin Eddie. He was a total perv. He was always trying to sneak a peak at me in the bathroom. But not like a normal kid. He only wanted to see me pee. What a freak.

The only thing we had in common other than my pee is that we both loved Westerns. We would sit down in front of the Magnavox and check out the Million Dollar Movie when ever there was a good Western on. That was the only time he behaved himself. Well most of the time.  He would put on his little cowboy hat and I would wear my gingham drawers. Of course if there was a sexy blond in the movie he would get all excited and rub himself through his little velvet short pants and make this squeaking sound like a rat trapped in a drain pipe. He made a hole in his pants the time we watched that slut bag Shelly Winters in "Saskatchewan" which was a sort of Canadian western with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. You know the Mounties. He got so hot he mounted the cat. It grossed me out let me tell you.

We lost touch after I left the Munster Mansion. In fact I didn't ever want to touch or be touched by him again. There are a lot of rumors about him. Somebody told me he was the senior Senator from South Carolina. Other people said he moved to the Jersey Shore and opened a t-shirt shop. My other cousin Wednesday told me he got married to a blond. Figures. She works as a nurse and he is unemployed and stays home all day fighting with people on the Internet.

I don't know if that is true. But I do know that he probably spends his time whacking his bag into her soiled panties from the hamper.

He was one disgusting little freak.

A Rod does not use steriods....I have proof!

How can you argue with a photo?

There is no way this guy does steroids.

What is all the fuss about?

The Rifleman

The stage pulled up in front of the Hotel in North Fork, New Mexico. It was dusty and worn and the driver looked exhausted. He batted some dust off his pants with his hat as he was getting down to open the doors of the coach.
"Northfork folks. We are stopping overnight. The stage company has reserved some rooms for you in the hotel." He handed down an older woman who had been traveling for a few days but turned his back on the next person out of the coach.
Mark McCain and his friends Timmy and Nick were there to greet the coach. They always liked to see who got off the stage. Sometimes the people were interesting. Sometimes the women had big teats. They liked big teats. Especially the pointy ones. They made them feel all strange and warm inside.
Timmy was very artistic. He loved music and would often carve himself a recorder to play weird and boring music on.  He called it classical but most of his friends just called it bad. He never played the hits like Jimmy Crack Corn. It was just unfortunate that he kept falling down the well. Luckily he owned a collie.
Nick was a bad boy. He wanted to grow up to be a Pinkerton so he practiced by peeping in windows. He hadn't got caught yet but you wouldn't want to be in his shoes if Miz Coleman caught him looking in her window.
"Look Mark. Look at that fat bastard" laughed Nick. "He can't even roll out of the coach he is so huge."
A rotund man dressed in flowered shirt with a florid face struggled to get out of the stage. He was about 6 foot 3 and weighed over three hundred pounds easy.  Mark didn't have a cow that big on the ranch.
"Hey kids what is the name of this jerkwater town."
"It's Northfork sir. Northfork New Mexico."
"What's your name kid."
"Mark McCain sir."
"Is there a saloon around here?'
"Yessir. Right across the street."
"Good. There many dance hall girls there."
"There are a few. My dad calls them soiled doves" piped up Nick. "I don't know why cause their underwear is always clean."
"How do you know that kid."
"I just do that's all."
"Well that's good. See I am an underwear salesman and I got some new bras and such to sell. Let's get this show on the road." He pulled an enormous suitcase off the top of the stage and started struggling to the saloon.
"I hope he got some pointy ones Mark" whispered Timmy. "I like the pointy ones."
"Me too. Lets follow along and see what happens."

The Rifleman

Lucas McCain and his son Mark were in town on a cloudy Friday in July. Lucas had some banking to do and of course Mark was at school. Lucas decided to kill some time at the jail with his friend Sheriff Micah Torrance while he was waiting for Mark to finish so they could ride back home together. He was on his second cup of coffee when his son burst into the room.
"Pa, Pa are you here?"
"Yes I am here Mark," replied Lucas "why are you in such an all fangled hurry. Did you see a ghost?"
"No Pa but something pretty strange. Do you remember that Indian fella that has been hanging around town for the past couple of months?"
"I know him," answered Micah. "They call him Chief Stalking Horse. Did he cause any trouble Mark. Is he bothering you?"
"Why do you say that Micah" asked Lucas. "Is he a trouble maker?"
"Well he is drunk all the time Lucas boy. He doesn't do much. Just gets sad and drinks some more. And sing sad Spanish songs."
"Why Spanish songs Micah" piped up Mark. "I thought he was an Indian."
"Most of the Indians here in New Mexico speak Spanish Mark. I think Stalking Horse is either an Apache or a Puerto Rican. I can't figure out which. You know like Sal Mineo."
"So what did he do Mark?"
"It's not what he did Pa it was who he was with. He was with Lonesome Larry. Or Lying Larry like everyone is calling him since he started that ruckus with Paulie the sign maker. They were whispering and talking in secret. I think Lying Larry is trying to convince him to do something. It was strange because nobody talks to Lying Larry anymore. Most turn away. But this fella didn't do anything either when the fight was going on. Maybe he agreed with it. Do you thinks so Micah?"
"No I don't think so Mark. Stalking Horse is a right nice fella if a drunk and morose one. I don't think he has mean bone in his body. But I hope he doesn't get convinced to do something he shouldn't do. That Lying Larry can be pretty convincing. Look how he got that dried up old spinster to marry him and give him half of her ranch. That was impressive I have to say. But I will keep an eye on him. Thanks for letting me know Mark."
"No problem Micah. I would hate to see him get in trouble."
"You are a good boy Mark. Here is a penny. Go get yourself some candy and stare at Miss Milly's teats. I will be along directly."
"Thanks Pa."

They had faces then....

Joe Gillis: You're Norma Desmond. You used to be a blogger. You used to be big.
Norma Desmond: I am big. It's the blogging that got small.

Joe Gillis:  Wait a minute....weren't you a famous commentor?

Max Von Mayerling: There were three young commenters who showed promise in those days: Palladian, Bissage, and Max Von Mayerling.
Joe Gillis: And she made you her servant. You have to make her pancakes and shave her hobbit feet.
Max Von Mayerling: It was I who asked to come to serve her. I could have continued my career, but I found it unbearable to live without her wizened vagina. You see, I was her first husband. Well the first with a penis.

Doubling down on Stupid

Well we have another screed from cloud cuckoo land and it is a dozy.

It seems that the evil blogger lady wants to continue to pick a fight with the Instanerd and his wife. Not satisfied at losing her comments section and most likely all the links thrown her way that put her on the map now she is doubling down with her patented blend of pomposity, condescension, bile and wrongheadness.

At least she acknowledges that she would have been in the middle of shitstorm if she still had comments as the "right wingers" who came to her site from Instapundit would inundate her with push back. Which she could not deal with. She took the adult approach of putting her fingers in her ears and saying she doesn't want to talk about it anymore. She just says that the Instanerd is wrong but he doesn't want to admit that she is right. So there.

Some commenter named X said that she went "full mental Inga." I think he hit it right on the head.

You know Wild Bill Hickok was a pretty arrogant guy. His bleached blond hair and bizarre attire were his trademark along with his arrogance and the surety that he was always right. What finally brought him down was when he turned on his best friend.

When Hickok was facing down gunman Phil Coe, his best friend and deputy Mike Williams ran up behind him and Hickok turned without looking and shot him dead. Williams always backed up Hickok and was his main support. He propped him up when he was sick and told everybody what a great guy Hickok was when most people just didn't see it. But everybody liked Mike so they sort of listened.  When Hickok turned and shot down his friend everyone turned their face from him. He lost his job as Marshal and never really had another. He drifted from town to town looking for a game. Finally he ended up in Deadwood. He was so arrogant that he sat with his back to the door instead of the wall. He was shot dead holding the "Dead Man's Hand." He thought he was so great that everybody loved him and that he was always right. But there were many people who were just waiting for a chance to take him out. He made many enemies when he thought that he was the greatest and that everyone loved and admired him.

I think somebody just rode into Deadwood.

They are in the book Squire....underlined twice!

Ignatius Feeney: " Ah it is the Squire you are talking about now. You must watch your ways"
Thornton: "I am a free born American and I can say what I want. I don't need to watch what I say."
Ignatius Feeney: "Ah no don't you go saying bad things about the Squire. Get over it boyo!"
Thornton: "Get away from me you lick spittle."

I have been laying off the coffee lately.

I have been laying off the coffee lately and switching to tea. Too much coffee gets me too crazy and I try to limit myself to 2 to 3 cups per day. I used to do seven to eight cups so now I am substituting with tea.

Which is good because my coffee connection where I used to get a can for two bucks is gone and I am gonna run out soon.

A Worthy Charity!

A couple of friends of mine has become involved with an very important new charity. It concerns the problems of homeless felines who have been led into dalliances with wrong companions.

The name of the charity is C.A.T.S. with S.T.D.S.

Yes it is cats with sexually transmitted diseases. Some of them suffer terribly. They become so sex obsessed that some them masturbate until they literally become blind.

Others have been licked by Michael Douglas and given him cancer.

So any contributions you can make to aid these pussies in need will be greatly appreciated.