You don't hear much these days about Old Paul. Not like you used to. Was a time when it was impossible to go three or four houses on your Steel Wool Route without hearing of Old Paul's doings. And they were mighty doings, indeed. Old Paul made many a friend at 7 feet, 2 inches tall. Wore those custom boots with laces up the back. Always had a riddle to tell or a nickel to swallow. And he was patient. You could talk at him for hours and hours, in person or on the telephone, about your wives and your wives' habits and he'd listen and acknowledge your existence. Then offer ice cream - of any flavor. Yes. Well as I said, you don't hear much about Old Paul anymore. His sitting stool, specially carved from the Jackson tree due to his cursed height, stands alone, off to the side. And Mary's...
DEPT: Blog
THIS IS THE BLOG OF THE HUMAN DOG.
THIS IS IMPORTANT EVIDENCE OF THE END OF THE WORLD.
ALSO THE OCCASIONAL RECIPE.
THANK YOU.
“I have listened to all the speakers,” she said. “I would not have further patience for talk, as I am one of those who feels and suffers from the things pictured.
“I move that we go on a general strike.”
The audience stood and roared its assent. In the days that followed, 20,000 to 40,000 workers, women and men, went on strike. They were backed by wealthy patrons, many of them suffragists, who provided bail money and small stipends. In February 1910, most of the factories agreed to recognize the Women’s Trade Union League as the representative for the workers.
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Man falling down stairs while German.
The rabbit casserole is gone.
For the first time he doubted his trampoline.
Sisters should never eat alone.
Give me that map, Mabel. I'll get us out of this marriage.
What do you make of a population that chooses to shoot itself in the head at every critical juncture over the last 30 years, then has the audacity to complain about their predicament? Stupid white suburbanites have dedicated themselves to the wholesale dismantlement of a Major American city - in the name of progress, no less! - for the entirety of their adult lives. Across all political parties and backgrounds, decisions were made about land use, mass transit, guided by paranoia, greed, gluttony and hatred. And then they turn around and are shocked to discover they are regarded as a joke by the rest of the world. The response? Local radio gives us self-righteous racist shitheads bragging, once again, that they aren't responsible for anything or anyone outside their own immediate appetites...
What we’re dealing with is Frogs Dressed as Men. No two ways about it. Little wigs, tiny pants, special shoes for their grotesque feet. And they expect to be treated as men. As equals!
Never mind their lack of lips, denying them the power of speech. They’re here in huge numbers and will not waiver. I’d ask the Lord for help, but I suspect he may be behind this.
I need a Water Cannon. I cannot afford a Water Cannon. Well, I can afford a Water Cannon, I just cannot afford the Water Cannon I want. Which is a Water Cannon that isn't subject to the laws of gravity. And can grant wishes. Also, I'd like it to come in Slate Gray.
Let's have a frank discussion of sleeve length, yes? I feel things have gotten completely out of control.
