Thanks, donater! Cash? What a novel idea, and one I hadn't considered folks would want to do. A local store is selling 25 round Butler Creek .22 banana clips for $10 or so, and they clip together for 50 rounds. I could use a couple of those, you can never have too many.
Your letter just got here a bit ago, by the way. Thanks again.
I was out hanging a Yellow Jacket trap in the farthest tree in the yard, when the mail came. All sorts of wasps are thick this year. The damn mud daubers are swarming, too. The crazy old bitch across the way waters her lawn compulsively, so they have plenty of mud to daub. I hope a pack of them sting her ass to death one day, though they have doubtless formed a pact to protect her, as she singlehandedly keeps the species supplied with mud.
Crazy bitch feeds the birds, too. Oh, not sweet little humming bird feeders, or seed bells for the Nuthatches. No, she chucks a big batch of stale bread crumbs out every morning, and the trash birds like the Grackles and their kin descend in clouds. Then something startles them, and their flight path leads them right over my car, where they shit on it in fear as they shed ballast in their panicked rush.
I wish I could afford a silencer for my .22. My damn pellet guns are too loud. Hey, maybe a pop bottle over the end, with a hose clamp. Cut a little hole in the base of it. Hmmmm. Let the old bag come out and find a few birds flopping around in her yard.
"I think they've got Mad Bird disease!" I would yell to her. "Better not touch them!"
The wife went into the old bat's back yard to get some flower cuttings from her, and reported back that her back yard was full of ground wasp nests. Craze-ella de Ville is terrified of bug spray, convinced that she will die if she even sets eyes on a can of it. I'm gonna have to wait til she leaves, some day soon, and sneak back there and nuke it.
Some day I'm gonna push her in the oven. One day, Johnny was being a clueless little dickhead, and grazed her foot with his trike tire. She went off on him like an utter loon, and even appeared to threaten him, to the point where I had to remind her how slowly old people heal from broken bones.
I know I've written about her in these hallowed halls before. Every so often, she takes a gainer down her stairs from the second floor, and she never has the common decency to break her withered neck. FUCK I hate old people. She just wanders around outside, with big yellow and purple bruises, looking enough like a zombie to where I really think the only way to stop her is with a round in the head. Maybe a crowbar.
As you can see, I've put some thought to this. In the summer, when my bedroom window is open, her cigarette stench wafts over like smoke from the dump. If they're gonna take our personal freedoms away anyway, I wish they'd hurry up and take that one already.
I have an idea! I can pour an ampule of Yellow Jacket attractant on her! From behind, when she's not looking. That'll fix her wagon. By the way, that's an excellent and very dirty trick to do to someone's car. Or maybe spread some around at one of the rallies next Monday. "Lookit them beaners run!"
Put it on a hippy. I hear they love nature.
Well, that's about all the love and joy I can spread at one time, except to say all the non-Muzzy bloggers in the world need to come together as one, and DOS the fucking shit out of Saudi Arabia's governmental computers. They got Aaron again. I'm not going to link him, because I think he's getting quite enough hits right now, thank you so very much.
Fuck, have I mentioned lately that I hate Arabs? And any Muslim?
Well, I do.