Be dangerous my friends. Be dangerous.
Hello my Alphabet Agency followers. Don't shoot the dogs. They didn't do nothing. What out for the rabbits though. Tater wields a mean shiv.
I give My Sister...The Devil a fairly healthy dose of crap here in my little corner of the world. It's what snarky siblings do, and it's not like she doesn't give me ample reason. For instance, the following photos were taken recently of MS...TD's childhood dollhouse preserved for posterity by our mother, Mimi.
As you can see, something sick and twisted is lurking in MS...TD's head. Her children could not be reached for comment, and forensics suggests that the chopping block might have been bleached. Draw your own conclusions.
Having said that, long time readers will recall that MS...TD is a budding smut serious author. Not too long ago, she succeeded in landing a publishing contract for her latest effort, And They Danced. I had an...ahem...opportunity to read an earlier version of the manuscript before MS...TD squared off against a New York (hack...spit) editor. I can honestly say with no sarcasm or crossed fingers that this one is/was tolerable(bear in mind, the genre is not my cup of tea...).
So, if you are interested and in a position to throw a shekel or two towards some reading material for the outhouse, please consider My Sister...The Devil's latest offering as an alternative to the latest Tik Tok video. It should be released for sale on March 6TH if my understanding is correct.
P.S. I asked to write the author bio, but my request was rudely rejected. I did receive a lovely envelope with ashes in it though.
I had to give my deposition in a lawsuit earlier today, and I've got a massive headache now. Spending 6 hours of my day answering questions about things that happened 4 to 6 years ago is not my idea of fun. On the spectrum of fun, it falls somewhere around root canal, full cavity searches and being beaten with blunt objects. Y'all talk amongst yourselves. Don't burn down anything important. Replace anything you drink from the liquor cabinet.
As many long time followers can probably figure out, M&M has progressed from The Cutest Baby In The World to The Cutest Little Girl In The World and is racing head long towards The Cutest Little Young Lady In The World. She turned 11 not too long ago, and she's been horse crazy for several years now. The Queen and I, being doting parents that we are, get her horseback riding lessons to indulge this youthful passion. Last week, she had her first lesson in a while after taking a rather hard fall off a horse and then being sick and us traveling and such. She chose to have a trail ride instead of a formal lesson. I mentioned as how I wanted to go too, and plans were hatched.
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| M&M confident upon her trusty steed, Turbo |
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| My view for most of the ride |
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| It's rather peaceful in an open field on horseback |
It has literally been years since I was atop a horse for any length of time. Fortunately, M&M's instructor had pity on me and chose an even tempered horse named Ginger for me and even took care of saddling her up for me. Now, come to find out later in the ride, Ginger is known to be lazy. She also likes to eat. ALL. THE. TIME.
She was not thrilled with the prospects of leaving her hay bale and feed bucket behind to trot my fat sorry *ss around. She did not want to keep up with the group either. So, I repeatedly had to encourage her to keep up which led to a "lope" every few minutes to catch up. Thus, my groin, thighs and lower back all got a workout they were not expecting.
All in all, I am not too displeased with my performance. Ginger only tried to kill me twice. The first time, I was just giving her more squeeze to catch up to the group again when she literally dug in all four hooves, dropped her head and took a massive mouthful of dry grass in her mouth. I almost went Tango Uniform right off the flight deck. I did lose my grip on the reins which Ginger took as a sign to keep her head down and keep eating.
The second time, Ginger decided she needed to relieve herself of some recycled feed. Unlike some horses who are quite content to keep egressing the area while conducting evacuation exercises, Ginger prefers to stop dead, lift her tail and take careful aim. Not a problem says I. I'll wait. Someone forgot to mention that Ginger is "extra spicy" when she is finished. I don't know if she burned her bung whole or if she was so overcome with joy at offloading something foul, but she shook her head and took off with nary a warning almost leaving me hanging in mid air a la Wile E. Coyote.
Before long, we had circled back around to where the barn was in sight. Ginger liked that part of the ride and was only too happy to take the lead at that point. She didn't want to stop for gates or wait for the group to catch up. We had a little discussion about that.
Everyone survived. No blood was shed. My groin and thighs were not happy for days afterwards. M&M had a great time, and we have another Daddy Daughter outing in the planning stages.
The meme has nothing to do with today's subject except maybe tangentially, but it does kick over my giggle box. That said, there is a corollary to the meme that the scales of justice can be tipped with the sufficient application of large amounts of untraceable cash or other valuable consideration. The fact that Hillary Clinton and the cast of characters in Jeffrey Epstien and Giselle Maxwell's Client List Little Black Book are still walking free is no coincidence.
Despite the fact that I make a living dealing with lawyers and the legal system everyday, I am not a fan of either. Too much familiarity with the sausage making process to trust it fully I suppose. So, it is with no small amount of loathing and reluctance that I agreed to give a deposition in a lawsuit arising out of a claim I handled several years ago. I could have said "go pound sand" and been well within my legal rights to do so. 1) I am out of subpoena range, 2) I am no longer employed by the company I was working for at the time, 3) they nuked the bridge from orbit which means, 4) I have no incentive to play nice.
Unfortunately for me, I am a stand up guy at heart. So, despite the fact that I will not get so much as an "attaboy", I now get to spend my free time for the next few days preparing for my deposition (which is the mental equivalent of a colonoscopy without the benefit of anesthesia) and then spend the better part of a day on a video conference being grilled by various attorneys about events and thought processes that took place 4 to 5 years ago now just so a few insurance companies can battle it out over who should pony up a couple of million dollars.
There's not enough Bourbon to make this little misadventure fun. Just saying.
...that this hasn't become the latest Tik Tok challenge or whatever the kids are doing these days since Tide Pods became passe`.
I'm a sucker for neat stuff just like any other man trying to reason with his inner child. I'm not sure who did this or where I found it, but I like it. The only way to make this better would be to add a chin turret in the nose.
There's really nothing more that needs to be said to convey what happened in that photo. Having said THAT, I think a better Kodak moment would have been a close up photo of a young woman with tossled hair, maybe some blood spatter on her face, some runs in her mascara, the corner of the Klondike wrapper peeled back, and blood soak hands lifting the bar to her perfectly white teeth for a nibble. Lighting would be key to sell it. Dark background with one high, offset spot to bring out the colors and make some shadows. Hint of a smirk on the woman's face and just a little suggestion of something lurking in the shadows reaching out for her. I may have to take up photography again...
I'll not name names or point fingers, but I'm sure there are a few in the audience who could use a "Just say no!" pep talk right about now. You can't please everyone nor should you try. It's especially pointless to try to please dead people on account of them being dead and all.
I'd say I'm sorry for the lack of posting here of late, but I've misplaced my stash of apologies. Truth be told, the muse went walkabout after a late night argument a while back and hasn't been seen in many a moon. There was an illegible post card from Matamoras, Mexico that came in not too long ago. The only words I could make out were Mezcal and Burro. I'm not sure I even want to know what that's about. I suppose I should be thankful that there was no request for bail money or Mordita from a Mexican jail. So, there's that.
I wish I could say that I am optimistic about the arbitrary time period known as 2023, but it's not off to a great start which is only feeding my cynicism. National politics are an absolute Festival of Flung Fertilizer. It's looking like we may wind up with a historic first in the Speaker of the House Race. Not sure which way that wind is going to blow, but I am reasonable sure it'll smell like a turd.
I'm going to try to experiment with different ways to get my creative juices flowing....maybe interview a new muse or two. Hopefully, I can shake off the cobwebs and make some progress.
