Squirrels? You May Ask Yourself “How Did I Get Here”

Lesbian Squirrels is a serialized story. You might have started reading in the middle and wonder what the hell is going on. The links below cover the first two chapters of the saga. Happy reading:

Chapter One: In which a skunk and bear mount a protest.

A Vague Moment of Flailing About: In which I posit excuses for slacking off. (Optional.)

Chapter Two: In which the secret of Swedish disco is revealed.


If you like what you’ve read (or figure it’s better for society that I’m occupied at my keyboard than breaking tractors), please toss a copper or two my way. Thanks!

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I Will Try To Reject Political Stupidity And Submit Lighthearted Stupidity In Its Stead

I’m on the road this week. This is bad timing! Friday, as happens quadrennially or octennially (is that a word?), there will be a graceful transition of power in our mostly peaceful republic. The press is in a snit about it. Their chosen one failed to make the grade. Shockingly, votes matter; even when those unwashed troglodyte others in flyover country do it wrong. Poor waifs in the media; an election without worship of their chosen candidate (or guillotines) sticks in their craw.

The presidential election was two months ago, but in certain quarters dismay is still fresh. Since I’m in my truck I can’t easily ignore their panic. An election followed by wailing and gnashing of teeth seems oddly artificial. The dial went to eleven when the Hairball and Bush Jr. were elected but it didn’t happen when Clinton or Obama were elected. Same could be said of the stampede toward recounts. Hanging chads anyone? Now that I think of it, I didn’t hear bitching about the electoral college when Clinton or Obama was elected. How strange? If only I could deduce a pattern…

Since I’m stuck in a truck’s cab, the media, including America’s taxpayer subsidized radio based propaganda source (NPR) has been inescapable. They’re uniformly insistent that all hope will die on Friday. Sunshine will fade, birds will fall from the sky, KKK goons (whom I’ve never personally seen but are apparently legion) will roam the streets like sheet covered buffalo, Ebenezer Scrooge will stride about kneecapping orphans, Ebola will manifest in the drinking water, and every cat in North America will puke on its owner’s shoes. That’s all going to happen before breakfast on Friday; the blackest of all days.

I’m assured that should I stop my truck on Friday, pull over to the side of the road, and face Washington… I will surely see the mushroom cloud as all we hold dear is vaporized. By Saturday morning people will be dying in the streets, cats and dogs will be living together, and the Cubs will win the World Series. (Some of these portents have already come to pass!) By February all that will remain will be a few weeping orphans and the occasional used car salesman.

It’s all very silly. America has had good presidents and bad ones. It was designed to be more stable than any one President’s plaything and (with notable caveats) it has admirably weathered most storms. I seriously doubt Trump is somehow uniquely and qualitatively different than the other forty-three presidents who’ve come and gone. Even when citizens vote, as the press assures me they have done this time, incorrectly, America lives on… good for us.

The most important thing to remember is that the President isn’t that important. No president from either party will personally come to your house and specifically piss on your privately-owned bowl of Cheerios. Nor will he vacuum your living room or make you a cheese sandwich. In the vast majority of things, he’s just a far-off man in a suit. He’s just not that important in your life; unless you make it so. Also, despite what many people think, Trump is not going to drag anyone to a concentration camp (an activity last performed by FDR, a Democrat, in 1942).

They say it is better to light a candle than curse the darkness. Therefore, no matter how much fun I could have by ridiculing folks that are in flat out panic this week, I’m going to try something more positive. Friday I will begin another multi-part episode in the continuing saga of the lesbian squirrels. I can’t say it’s going to bring joy to the whole world but I can promise I won’t go back and change the order of Han Solo’s quick draw over Greedo.

I will try as hard as I can to avoid ranting about politics. I may fall off the bandwagon but at least I have a goal. If I do nothing other than make people laugh it’s enough. (I may fail at that too but one has to try.)

Plus, the squirrels have been asking about their fate. I left their furry asses in a bind and they’re concerned.

Wish me luck.

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Warning Labels By Physicists

Liberty’s Torch digs into it’s archives to lead us away from politics and toward jocularity. Good idea! Here’s just one of several excellent consumer warnings:

“IMPORTANT NOTICE TO PURCHASERS: The Entire Physical Universe, Including This Product, May One Day Collapse Back into an Infinitesimally Small Space. Should Another Universe Subsequently Reemerge, the Existence of This Product in That Universe Cannot Be Guaranteed.”


This reminded me of something in my archives; In California, Death Is Never Far Away. While on a motorcycle trip I stopped for an oil change in California. The mandatory posted list of things “known to the state of California” to cause cancer was immense and silly.

I’m not saying a motorcycle shop is chemical free. But don’t we already know that it’s not a good idea to lick battery terminals or sprinkle brake fluid on breakfast cereal? Is the only reason Californians aren’t adding carburetor cleaner to their coffee because of the sign?

Meanwhile, I’d just survived I5 on two wheels and picked up a brutal head cold from San Joaquin’s incredibly polluted air.

“California will kill you with air while warning you about the lead content of your battery posts.  No wonder politicians thrive there!”

I literally fled to Death Valley for clear air and then from fled Death Valley the next day. (I was afraid I’d get extremely sick in a place without ready antibiotics.) Where was the poster that said “breathing this air will beat your country boy lungs like a jackhammer”?

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I Love America; Including The Americans

Cold Fury linked to I love America. It’s Americans I hate. I generally ignore such things. I’m aware coastal elites deplore me without clicking on Slate, having NPR drilled into my truck’s radio, or watching MSNBC’s talking heads. But, in the interest of paying attention to those who hate me, I tuned in. This one needs a fisking; good and hard

Let’s start with my failings. They’re still freaking out and I hadn’t absorbed that fact. I assumed nobody can stay pissed forever. Blissful isolation led me to expect the post-election hyperventilation was fading.

At some level I get it. It was a shock. Finding out there are people who aren’t exactly like you is a tough lesson. I always thought that’s why two year olds are such brats. They’re learning the world exists independently of them. This guy didn’t realize the diversity (!) of the electorate and he’s working through it.

I figured it was just a matter of time. Give ’em a week of burning cars or their own neighborhoods, then (for those with lots of spare time) a few more weeks of moping. Eventually being sad gets boring and you move on. Maybe tragedy mired lefty voters need to watch Inside Out, Pixar’s instructional video for children?


Here’s what the snowflake at The Week has to say:

“The public is a swarm of hostile morons, I told her. You don’t need to make them understand you; you just need to defeat them, or wait for them die.”

That’s pretty charitable isn’t it? I joke about hippie tears but I don’t think so much “defeat them” as “ignore them”.

There’s more:

“A vote cast for Trump is kind of like a murder”

No! Voting is like voting and murder like murder. If you’re covered in blood and people put you in jail; that’s not voting. It’s not a subtle difference.

“I don’t believe all Trump voters are ignorant, or bigoted; most of them are just evil — evil being defined not as anything so glamorous as beheading journalists or gunning down grade schoolers, but simply as not much caring about other people’s suffering.”

I’m sure glad he first equated my vote with murder and explained how I’m evil… but ever so kindly granted that I’m slightly less evil than someone who does beheadings.

I want that on my tombstone. “Here lies this guy. He voted wrong but he didn’t behead anyone so there’s that.”

Shall we keep going:

“The level of sustained rage it requires also threatens to harrow out your soul. Condemning half the human race — which is, after all, just another species — as insane or evil is usually a sign that something is off in your worldview.”

Now we’re getting somewhere. Yes, it is true that if you think half of humanity is evil the issue is definitely not them.

“I only know two confirmed Trump voters. One of them is from Texas and the other’s a Marine, so they both have their excuses.”

I got news for you sunshine. You know a lot more than two Trump voters. They’re keeping quiet in your presence because you’re a fucking loon.

Trump voters are plentiful and they’re everywhere. You’ve encountered them without knowing it. They know how you think. You don’t know how they think.

Keep that in mind snowflake, you’re surrounded by people you constantly berate. They know you’ve equated their vote with murder. They know you consider them evil (though not full beheading evil). They know you would “defeat them or wait for them to die”. They move around you, past you, next to you, talk to you, interact with you, and yet every moment of that interaction they know you’re a fuse ready to be lit. They assess your level of crazy and exhibit greater self control than you can imagine.

It takes self awareness to have an opinion without dry humping everything in sight with it. It’s part of maturity. One word for it is decorum.

Also I suspect anyone is as angry as this guy must see a lot of veiled faces. Half the people he meets are interacting with a man who’d love to subjugate and attack them; wouldn’t that put a damper on things? Would such a man see more suspicion and less smiles?

“I recently sent a text to the former woman, letting her know I wasn’t going to meet her for dinner while she was in town because I considered her vote for Trump unconscionable.”

How awesome is that. You are so insufferable that only two of the many Trump voters you encounter every day were honest. Then you shit on 50% of them.

“I didn’t feel just or vindicated; instead I just felt like a heel.”

That’s ’cause you were a heel.

“my normal instinct would’ve been to have dinner with her just to cheer her up. Repressing your normal instincts toward kindness seems like the kind of thing Hitler used to recommend.”

It’s getting circular. She’s the murderous evil non-beheader because of how she votes; thus you act like a heel which means you’re following the advice of the infamous German socialist who led to Godwin’s Law?

I’m just spitballin’ here but you were an ass and that’s all there is to it. The strange nagging feeling in your heart is called a conscience.

I also note that of two Trump voters you shit on the jilted one and cut slack for the Marine? That’s “tactical meanness”. You don’t know enough to be nice but you know better than to piss off a Marine?

“There comes a time when civility in the face of barbarism is folly.”

Civility is never folly. It’s civility. Then again it’s not your strong point. Calling American voters murderous, evil (non-beheading) monsters when they disagree was my first hint that the civility boat sailed without you.

“My feeling has always been that if a religion or ideology has become more important to you than actual human beings, something may have gone seriously wrong with your values.”

Circles within circles. You cut ties with the your friend because of ideology. An act that made you feel like a heel (because you were). Thus your actions show you weighted ideology above an actual human being (who before becoming murderous and evil due to one vote was formerly a friend). Can you diagram that out for me? You’re indicating what about who’s values?

Eventually it ends with this:

“Such are the thin fingerholds we have to cling to as we contemplate the daunting ascent, by excruciating inches, up the sheer thousand-foot face of our incomprehension.”

I may be missing something, what with my murder like vote and my (non-beheading) evil nature and all. I suppose the author just needs to defeat me (good luck with that!), or wait for me to die; because treating a Barbarian like me civilly is folly. But it sure looks like the thousand-foot face of incomprehension is parked solidly between the author’s ears.


Cold Fury also had an epic response:

“…we’ve had a bellyful of it. For a long time, our principles of tolerance, freedom of speech and dissenting political opinion, and the right to be left alone overrode our sense of self-preservation and demanded otherwise, but truth to tell, at this point, we hate you right back, sweetums.”

And a great summation:

“But y’know, it DOES make me wonder how many of these sobbing sad-sacks are so TEWWIBLY, TEWWIBLY FWIGHTENED of what might be done to them in Trump’s America because deep down, it’s merely projection—a direct and clear reflection of what they secretly desire and intend to do to us someday. To which notion I can only say: bring it, pusscake. Any time you feel froggy. Better get help. And pack a lunch.”


Cold Fury has a point. From this post (and many others) I’m getting this weird vibe that certain folks are projecting. As if the only reason they haven’t gone genocide on deplorables is logistics. Not that it’s morally wrong, or mean, or bad, but that it’s hard.

There’s no indication of ethical aversion to mistreating us; just impotent rage when we don’t off ourselves for their convenience. Check out the vocabulary:

  • “defeat them, or wait for them die”
  • “like murder”
  • “ignorant or bigoted”
  • “sustained rage”
  • “the face of barbarism”
  • “unconscionable”
  • “condemning half the human race”

I wouldn’t talk about my neighbor’s cat that way. This guy is going like this about 62,979,636 people? Not cool dude.

Quit daydreaming about dominating and enslaving everyone. First of all, thinking like that means you’re fucking insane. Stop it.

Second, it’s not gonna’ happen. If you dream of mayhem but can’t act more concretely than cancelling a dinner, it’s time to get a grip on your own weakness. Deplorables are well aware of the situation and have no fear whatsoever. Even in a mildly demented essay there’s one Trump voter that’s not mistreated… the Marine. The Marine lives every day knowing his neighbor is nuts and has a violent internal dialog without batting an eye. We all do. That’s why I know it’s not going anywhere.

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Eleven Days

Nobody regrets this advice:

“If you’re doing a dumb, dangerous thing for a bad reason, or aren’t really clear on the reason… stop it.”

Reasonable people can (and should) reasonably disagree. The proper foreign policy of America, a nation of 300+ million people, is certain to create an array of options and folks will flock to various points on a spectrum. Fine, I get it. It’s all a complex mosaic, blah blah blah.

That said, whatever interests seem to be converging right now on the “antagonize Russia” gambit… please stop. Whatever game you think you’re playing; it’s not worth it.

It’s unwise. Russia is the big leagues. No matter how much you’re cheesed off that the future president lacks a vagina, has bad hair, or doesn’t like Obamacare… it’s not worth going large. Tanks in Poland, twitchy carrier groups in the Baltic, hyped up jets doing whatever the hell they do wherever the hell Allepo is? It’s not funny. People can get hurt.

Let me repeat… I don’t care if Putin was caught on tape pissing directly onto the DNC podium while crushing fluffy kittens… it’s not worth it. If he “hacked” the e-mail of people who use “password” for their password, that’s extremely not worth it. Unlike universities and media, he’s not a squeak toy for anyone’s amusement. Whatever game you’re playing… he’s playing a different one.

I get it. I’m a child of the cold war so I grok the appeal of stomping commies and so forth… but that’s for Saturday morning cartoons and bad movies from a different era. In the real world, Russia is not to be fucked with. A little diplomatic friction? Fine. Poking the bear until it takes your friggin’ head off? Not good. Stop it.

In this matter, the last six month or so have been mildly alarming. There’s an almost frantic zeitgeist to piss off Russia as completely and deeply as possible and do so immediately lest Cheeto Jesus preside over… over what? An outbreak of peace? Isolationism? More trade? Less trade? Ugly land development? None of this is a big deal. President elect Hairball is not insane. Nor is Putin. Both want nothing to do with “drama” of this sort.

This is the greatest of all possible news, whatever faults are inherent in real life James Bond Villain Putin and the human word tornado of Captain Yuge; neither seems inclined to screw with the other. Breathe deep and be happy about that. We’re both nations of genuine bad asses and we shouldn’t be getting in barroom spats. Doubt me? Ask Napoleon about messing with Russia. Ask Japan about messing with America. We’re both big and slow and goofy but we can both land a punch like no other. Nothing that happened in 2016 merits antagonism. Don’t paint either side in a corner until “it” becomes “on”.

The point is that stampeding to mess with Iraq led to… lets just say “consequences”. But it was on a scale that the nation as a whole can readily handle. A sour grapes movement to give Russia a wedgie over perceived slights is an order of magnitude riskier.

When it comes to Russia it’s best to STFU and stay chill. If you’re thinking otherwise, stop it!

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Two Weeks

Bad news. Apparently someone shot somebody in an airport; possibly with a formerly checked firearm. (It just happened so I’m sure the details will change.) It’s always a bummer when anyone gets shot (like in the peaceful city of Chicago) but this was at an airport and since Baptists from Tennessee did a bad thing at an airport we freak out about the place you park airplanes. The opportunity to go ape exists…

I’m calling it. 3. 2. 1…

The best gun salesman in the world has 14 days to run with this. He must do something!

Choose the form of the destructor (again). What’ll it be? More stringent background checks on firearms purchasers? Create a new police force that sucksRedefine a 30 year old law to mean something new? Ban one kind of ammo as different than another? Make a law nobody follows? Ban toy cars from old TV shows?

I’m betting on one of the following:

  • A knee jerk ban on checked unloaded firearms in locked cases in the cargo hold.
  • Regulating pistol grips to dimensions that must include a prime number on Wednesdays.

This is his last chance to turn 2017 into a year that sells more than 2016’s record of 27,538,673 firearms. If everyone calms down and acts rationally I’ll apologize for my cynicism.

A.C.

P.S. Regardless of the politics, it’s always a tragedy when an innocent is harmed. There’s nothing funny about that.

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Calling Venezuela: I’ll Trade Good Money For Bad

My last post pierced the thin veneer of pretending I don’t notice America’s national debt. I shouldn’t have looked behind the curtain, but a few years ago I was even worse at pretending. Take a ride in the wayback machine with me to around 2007…

The economy had a hiccup. First Bush and then Obama tried to “fix” it using a politician’s superpower; pissing away money. It became a contest to see which party was better at fucking up.

At first Bush took a strong lead. He gave it the Harvard/Yale try with unpopular bank bailouts. I have to hand it to him, nothing says “piss off the people” like burying bankers with unearned money. Bush probably thought he had it in the bag.

Later Obama proved he had the chops to become world champion money burner of the century. While Bush routed money to his pals, Obama routed it everywhere. He managed to really ramp up taxpayer dissatisfaction with “shovel ready” bad ideas like destroying Volvos. A comeback story leading to a landslide of suck.

It just goes to show that with enough isolation a person can believe destroying cars poor people drive creates money. Once you can do that the sky is the limit.

Watching DC burn money like a monkey with a blowtorch boggled my mind. My dog suggested I get a hobby so I started making charts. Check it out (link goes to a post from 2011):

Many decades of intelligence and then America goes APESHIT.

The point is, I’d lost a subtle connection. I’d lost the innate (and irrational) belief that one particular printed slip of paper is magically worth more than some other slip of paper… such as toilet paper. If you still believe, cling tight to it. Much like belief in Santa, once you lose it, life gets scarier.


Aside from rants and charts, the other thing I did was buy Zimbabwe dollars. This was right after Zimbabwe had really screwed the pooch. I spent a pittance on e-bay and got some $100,000,000,000.00 Zimbabwe notes. I had great fun with them.

They made good bookmarks. They looked pretty. I gave them as gifts.

They’re interesting and also an economic lesson for the math averse. When people started telling me how spending lots and lots of imaginary unicorn money would make the economy awesome because spread the wealth socialist happy time… I’d nod and give ’em a $100,000,000,000.00 note. Maybe I’d say something snide like “this will help pay for the free Obamaphones” or “I really care about your hippie cause, here’s my donation” or even “math is hard, here’s free money”. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen someone lecturing you about free magic stuff grasping a $100,000,000,000.00 bill that’s totally real and totally useless. The light bulb goes off with the realization “this idea has been tried before“.

I had a lot of fun with those fancy printed pieces of nothing.

Once, I made a trade at a pawn shop. “I like that object. Will you take $100,000,000,000.00 for it?” They got a novelty and I got my object. I’ll write about it sometime.

Eventually I “spent” all my useless money. I’m just plain out of valueless $100,000,000,000.00 bills. Bummer.

I was going to buy more but now they’re all “uncirculated” and sold for collectors. (Still cheap but not “give ’em away” cheap.) Ironically I coulda’ bought a suitcase full of useless paper at fifty cents a pop and sell them right now (a few years later) for a small profit. Does anything more perfectly represent our strange era than regretting giving away a $100,000,000,000,000.00 bill which cost me $0.50 because now it’s probably worth $2? Just roll it around in your head; the world is nuts!

If only there was some other place that’s demonstrating the magic of socialist economics.

Oh yeah, Venezuela. Last I knew a single American greenback was worth well over 1,000 bolivar fuerte.

So I’m thinking I want wads of useless money because they amuse me. I’m not a collector, I’m just weird. There’s got to be someone in Venezuela who’s staring at a wad of useless money on the kitchen table that would love to have a few greenbacks instead. We could strike a deal.

Incidentally it doesn’t have to be physical greenbacks; I can transfer a bitcoin or a phone card or ship a package of Mountain House or whatever is appropriate. If you’re such a person, or know of someone who’s sitting on a wad of junk fiat paper, drop me an e-mail (for privacy) or post something in the comments.

Incidentally I’m proposing a legitimate small purchase of physical paper or coins. I don’t want your Nigerian inheritance and I don’t want anyone in Venezuela (or me) getting in trouble. The late stages of a socialist economic collapse can get ugly so please take care. This is just for fun and maybe it’ll modestly help someone who’s in the shit in a tough place.

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A Post In Which I Briefly Fall Off The Wagon

I’m about to write about political bullshit. Forgive me.

It’s a new year. Last year I tried (with only mixed success) to avoid commenting on political asshattery. Negativity, even when it’s true, is corrosive. For example, the debt is a big fat hairy deal ($19,952,345,294,485.00).  I cannot conceive of a universe where America “pays off” that kind of value. (Perhaps I lack imagination?) More likely we’ll turn a dollar into a penny and pay off… nah we can’t even come up with that many pennies (Certainly that many physical pennies can’t realistically exist on the planet. Note I’m not saying “don’t exist” I’m saying “can’t exist”. These are very big numbers.) The point is, even though I fail, I endeavor to let it go.

Give me some credit. I haven’t bitched about the craptacular Chevy Volt lately. It’s hard y’all!

I also tried to avoid fanning flames during the election cycle. America’s voters; half of which (if you believe the press) are deplorable, rural, glue sniffing, misogynist, racist, trailer park bound, troglodyte, rubes and and half of which (if you believe me) are unemployable, clueless, nitwit, Marxist, urban sycophants were either up to the task… or not. I took a deep breath, chanted silently to myself (“the system can work”), and looked away.

OK fine, occasionally I fell off the wagon. Like when Hillary Clinton “was tired” on 9/11/16. This seemingly unremarkable announcement was followed by video of her being dragged out of her shoes into a van and followed by an explanation that she’d suddenly had pneumonia two days ago and shut up you fucking deplorable peasant; vote for vagina or you’re on the wrong side of history and will be the first hick lined up against the wall when the time comes. I’m pretty sure that’s a verbatum press release from 9/12/16. I fell off the wagon and wrote angry posts. I’m only human.

Now that Obama is the lamest of lame ducks, I’ve carefully avoided him. Why bother? I know he’s going to figure out what would most completely piss me off and then do it. Consider the options; maybe make a few victory laps, shit on Israel, coddle a dictator, pardon very bad criminals while ignoring those deserving of mercy, invite a couple million illegal aliens to move into the Lincoln bedroom, foment discord with Russia, gut a kitten on live TV and watch MSNBC try to spin it, maybe find a Republican senator and kick him in the balls? (Actually I’m OK with the last one.)


The point is that jackwits gotta’ jack. Let it go. Unfortunately I can’t let it go because I’m infuriated by this:

NASA Honors William Shatner With Distinguished Public Service Medal.

Whoops. Wrong link. I meant to bitch about a crappy president not an actor that played a pretend space captain. (You go Kirk!)

Let’s try again:

President Obama awards himself distinguished public service medal.

Nope. That’s not right either. I mixed up when cutting and pasting. Please click this link.

President Obama Goes Golfing.

So, is it true? Did Obama just award himself with the one honor the Swedes can’t issue? Good thing we’ve Snopes to avoid fake news:

President Obama did not award himself the Medal for Distinguished Public Service.

Lets see if they can sort it out:

“According to Breitbart‘s own source material, Defense Secretary Ash Carter honored President Obama, and the President did not “[award] himself” a medal.”

Oh, it’s so clear now! I’m so deplorable that I thought Obama actually picked up the award and pinned it on his own chest; possibly while evolving into pure light and riding a unicorn. Snopes explained it all. It’s was nothing like that. There was this guy see, and he has a boss who can fire him at any time… and the boss was like “give me an award or be transferred to a job scrubbing radioactive bedpans in Guam”… so the guy physically pinned 15 pieced of flair on his bosses chest in a big ceremony… this honored his boss… so the guy got to keep his job. That’s totally different than “Obama awards himself”. Snopes to the rescue!

In keeping with this line of investigation I’d like to clear up the misunderstood public image of Ming the Merciless:

Ming The Merciless and Dale Arden at their blissful wedding. Note that Ming isn’t actually officiating the ceremony. There’s a priest dude to do that. Thus, Snopes concludes that Ming is totally not bullying anyone. There’s nothing to see here but pure love.

I was so touched by Obama’s totally honestly derived honor I’m providing a video of the ceremony here. Sure its got Ming and Dale’s happy marriage vows but all royal ceremonies are about the same.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go sit on my throne as the best dad in the whole world. I gave my kid some cash and said “buy me that mug or I’m going to make you eat kale for a month“. It’s such an honor:

I paid for it and ordered my kid to buy it. Thus proving I’m the best dad ever. Snopes will explain it to you rubes who are confused.

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Annual Reading Pleasure (Belated): Christmas Noun

Every year Larry Correia posts a new installment of “The Christmas Noun”. This year’s edition (ninth in a series!) is excellent as always. You should investigate at this link. Here’s a taste:

“‘But Tim, you forget that Larry Correia is writing this story. There is sure to be gratuitous violence at some point. So I’m drafting you to be in the Secret Santa Service.’

Okay, that made sense. ‘Don’t worry, Santa. I’m on my way.’ Tim hung up and called to his faithful, adorable, huggable, lovable, and merchandise-moving animal companion. ‘Come on, Superfluous Marketing Dog™! Let’s go elect some ghosts!’

‘Woof,’ said Superfluous Marketing Dog™ with grim determination.”

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Annual Reading Pleasure: Dave Barry’s 2016 Year In Review

I always enjoy Dave Barry’s annual article and 2016 was a target rich environment. Here’s a sample:

“SEPTEMBER

Clinton and Trump square off in the first presidential debate, which leads to a national conversation about an issue of vital concern to all Americans, namely the alleged weight gain of Alicia Machado, Miss Universe 1996. This topic is raised by Clinton in an obvious attempt to bait Trump into wasting valuable campaign time talking about something that cannot possibly benefit him, so naturally Trump, who by his own admission has an extremely high IQ, latches onto it like a barnacle onto the Titanic.”

Enjoy.

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