A Day In The Life Of Redisent Opuccant

Did you ever wonder where glaciers go when they retreat? Might be handy to know this. I bet they have a secret clubhouse.

International House of Pank Rats. Is that it?

Haggis cannot be housebroken. (Haggis do not normally bathe either, and why would they?)

I went to the butcher shop yesterday. All the guys there were named "Butch". There was too much early hacking and chopping going on, so I left before the main event. (Had to go water the turd garden out back of my house anyway. They get uppity if too dry.)

If the carpenters drove nails the way Grandma drives her truck, this house would be done in about half an hour.

Snorkelbunnies have been doing serious damage to my house. They eat siding. I guess at this point that I should express proper gratitude that, although snorkelbunnies are real, my house is imaginary.

"The consignment was abandoned because the Contents of the consignment was not properly declared by the consignee as "MONEY" rather it was declared as personal effect to avoid interrogation and also the inability of the diplomat to pay for the United States Non Inspection Charges which is $3,800USD. On my assumption the consignment is still left in our Storage House here at the John F. Kennedy International Airport Queens New York till date. The details of the consignment including your name, your email address and the official documents from the United Nations office in Geneva are tagged on the Trunk box." (What you get if your name is Redisent Opuccant.)

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Hiding under the table with the cat. Now all I need to make this work is a cat.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals

Building Catsles In The Air

"Mmph!" Another note left by the cat. His name is Walter. At least that's what it says on his driver's license. (I peeked while he was busy in a Zoom meeting.) But "Mmph!" is all he ever says. To me, anyhow.

Blame it on the cat. That's what I always do. (But don't tell the cat. He might raise my rent again.)

Bush cat eyes me warily, from behind that tree. Once friend, but friend no more, since that dumpster fight we had over chicken scraps.

Getting near the end. When there's more hair in your ears and nose than on top, well, you know what's coming. Except the cat. He don't give a fuck.

Getting out of bed in the morning, it's what I need to do to get the cat to work on time. (Also requires fresh mouse with his scrambled eggs, or he won't move for nothin'.)

Here I am, an old guy. I've spent my entire life wondering about the meaning of truth, and still, after all these years, I find myself lying to the cat about most things most days. On the upside, he doesn't seem to give a fat rat's ass either way. Maybe we were meant for each other.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I'm just like that sometimes.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals

Peckin It

I encountered a chicken crossing the road — said his name was Fred, and I should mind my own business.

I encountered a chicken crossing the road in a tank. A small tank, but heavily armed. When I asked, he just winked and stepped on the gas.

I encountered a chicken crossing the road, but upon closer inspection, it turned out to be hopscotch, a skill I never mastered, partly due to the cost of scotch, but the chicken seemed happy enough with the situation.

I encountered a chicken crossing the road. Since this was my day off, I pretended not to see anything.

I encountered a chicken crossing the road. In fact, a bunch of them, all marching to rhythmic tunes on fife and drum. I decided to stand back and not ask any questions this time.

I encountered a chicken crossing the road, so, today at least I wasn't the only one around here with my pecker out.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Recently nominated for something by someone, somewhere.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals

SuperCramps

Mom told me never to bother believing in God unless I had bad cramps, and then see if it helped. So far, no cramps. So something is working in my favor.

I sometimes wonder if God would simply vanish if one particular day at a set time, everyone suddenly quit believing. Worth a try, probably, don't you think? How about next Thursday at two, after a leisurely lunch.?

God — responsible for the death of every human who ever lived. Not your friend, by most accounts.

When God created heaven and earth, it was supposed to be only a proof of concept, but look where we are now.

And then God said "Let there be bureaucrats", and Lo! Again! look what we got here.

People are forever talking about God's will. So, are you in it?

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Still my own supreme being.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals

Dress For Excess

If God was to show up at a costume party, I'm guessing as a wombat. I mean, what else?

God created another universe yesterday. It's a little better then ours because God had either 6000 years to rethink the process, or 28.6 billion years, depending on who you believe. Considering what we have to put up with here, I personally would prefer waiting a bit, another version or two, before even considering making a commitment toward a future move.

Ever see God in a dress? Possibly something you never want to hope for.

God might join the Hell's Angels some day, but only under an assumed name I'm guessing. Still might be too obvious. People are always watching. They do that.

God wears size seven shoes. I thought you should know that. I really never would have guessed.

God came by again. Awkward. Always awkward. For lack of anything better to do, I drove us down to Wally Mart. God likes to ogle the babes. Prefers 45 and up, or those that look it, especially the ones with gravelly voices from heavy use of cigarettes and beer since their time in grade school. At least this way I don't have to make popcorn and provide gallons of KoolAid. God likes KoolAid. (Grape, no sugar.)

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Never touch the stuff.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals

Keeping My Eye On You

I recently found out that my father was a Hologram survivor. Maybe that's why he could never stay focused enough to hold down a job.

I still smell bad. Let's blame it on the accident. Next year it will just be something else anyway.

I think I finally figured out popcorn. It has to do with the inevitable result of vegetative overexuberance and heat. Heat. Heat is important. Boom!

I think today might be Friday somewhere. That's what all the banners and parades are for, right? I sort of like the storm troopers, even if they are a little scary. Can't wait to see what 1934 brings.

I tried one of those Improbability Burgers today even though I'm not licensed for that kind of thing. Made me fart a lot. I do like that part. Still thinking about the rest.

I tried to use PayPal to pay a pal, which is when the payment system went pie-shaped and I got punched in the puss. Poop. Poop, I say. Poop on it all, my friend.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Polishing my peeper.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals

Didn't Plan It This Way

Fructose Fantasies — whatever works for you. Sweet too. (May result in sticky lips. Not guaranteed to be healthy.)

Fulsom Honeydew, my new girlfriend. Hey — never had one before. Says she likes my eyelashes. Slightly over-ripe. Squeaks a little when I run my finger along her side. This could be fun.

Glacial mice. Like dustbunnies but bigger, and made of rock. Non-negotiable.

Give peace a sex change.

Hamsters aren't the only ones who worry about both nuts and the Fermi Paradox.

(1) Happiness is best achieved when not directly pursued. -- Aristotle (2) Happiness is just another word for minty-fresh enema bags. -- Dave

I really didn't expect this. But things do happen. They do. So, then.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I still don't care.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals