Oh là là, Monsieur Macron! The French President invites U.S. scientists to his Ménage!

Sexy Macron

I’ve never trusted the French, not since I sat for my first class in Madame Duvet’s 6th grade Introductory French. She kept saying, “Le pouce. Le pouce.” That was accompanied by a thumbs up. I didn’t get it, but I just nodded my head in agreement with the old, crazy bat. From that moment on I knew that I had to keep my Yankee wits about me as she dragged me and my compatriots ever deeper into the twisted, tangled, and tawdry world of Liberté, Equalité, Fraternité. (I immediately called bullshit. America invented that stuff. 1776. April Morning. Don’t tread on me. These colors don’t run. They stole our Red, White, & Blue obviously.)
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Zeke & His Toxic Pocket Monster

January 10, 2017: Matriculating at a university near you. Keep it in your safe space! 


Ezekiel was a mild – mannered teenager by every account. Well, he was technically and very much legally a man at 18, and thus now fully responsible and accountable for every act committed by any and every member of his sex. He was only a few weeks removed from his high school graduation, and a few weeks into his freshman year at the University. This was his first excursion out of his little town, and now he found himself thrown into this thriving and diverse metropolis. There were white people of every kind here! Some had brown hair, some black, red, blonde, and all the shades in between. They came from places as far away as Minnesota, the Dakotas, Iowa, and some from right outside of Chicago – like within 100 miles! He on the other hand, came from a long line of cheese farmers going back to his great, great granddaddy – the head cheese. Continue reading “Zeke & His Toxic Pocket Monster”

That moment you hit the ball into the neighbor’s yard. Except it’s a spy drone!

December 15, 2016: 5o nautical miles from somewhere no good where the Chicoms are doing shady shit, and the U.S. is doing them dirty to keep'em clean.


That’s what happened to the USNS Bowditch a few days ago when it was steaming (lurking) near Subic Bay in the South China sea, except the ball is a stealthy “surveying” drone (every time you read “surveying” substitute “spy”), and the neighbor is China. You know the feeling. You shouldn’t have been playing there. Your mom has told you a million times, but you just can’t help yourself. You love playing your game. It’s fun, and as long as you don’t get caught…well no harm no foul. Then it happens. Your ball goes sailing over the fence into the neighbor’s yard, and as if he’d been watching the whole time, your neighbor opens his porch door walks out to his yard, and picks up the ball ignoring your protests, and apologies.
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Oh Toto, so Glad We aren’t in Kansas Anymore!

December 3, 2016: A public park, a middle-aged couple, and nocturnal emissions.


Here’s a little ditty about Jack and Diane, a middle-aged couple doing the best they can…in Gardner, KA. Jack works as an insurance adjuster, adjusting insurance. Diane packs chicken breasts on two shifts at the local, central distribution site for a not-so-local, overseas megafarm located in the Orient. Most of the chicken parts come from Thailand; Bangclucks they call them.
Continue reading “Oh Toto, so Glad We aren’t in Kansas Anymore!”