June 03, 2004
notes from the home front
Katie, the Fertile Rottweiler, is down to two puppies now. Somebody took "Brownie," an alpha male, and the two leftovers are brown females. All the ones who looked like genuine Rotties went pretty quickly.
Henry got kicked out of his house by the darling wife, came over to the Crackerbox in search of beer, told me his sob story, but charmed his way back in one day later. That guy makes ME feel sane.
I haven't seen THE JOGGER for a while now. Maybe the running bastard dropped dead of a heart attack the way Jim Fixx did on his way to perfect health.
The FAT LADY might not be singing, but she's walking several times up and down the road every day. She does that ridiculous power-walking thing that makes me want to run over her with my truck. Maybe she ate THE JOGGER. (Side note: never trust a woman with a belly bigger than her tits.)
A grackle attacked me in my back yard today, then had the nerve to hang around and squawk at me. I shot his ass dead with my pellet rifle.
I don't trust one of my neighbors. He has three things going against him. His ass is wider than his shoulders, he smokes brown cigarettes and he has an electric lawn mower.
I have an Effingham County sheriff's deputy living on my street. He knows me by name. I'm not certain whether that's a good thing or a bad thing.
I ate lunch at Weisenbacker's Restaurant today after my visit to the dentist. I must be going there too often. As soon as I sat down, the waitress came to me and said "The Killian's Red is on tap again, Rob." That tap has been broken for a couple of weeks, and that's what I always ask for. I had a Killian's, with a meal of BBQ ribs, mashed potatoes, fried okra and corn and tomatoes. It was good and I tipped my waitress generously.
I cut my grass. And I didn't use an electric lawn mower.
As you can tell, it doesn't take much to excite me anymore. That's one of the reasons I love living in Effingham County, Georgia.
You get to shoot those @#%&* grackles where you live? You lucky bastard! My neighbor got a rocket letter from the local po-po for doing so in the alley behind his shop. He later lent me his pellet rifle to have a try at the ones around here. I can kill a pill bottle at 30 feet with a nice German air rifle like that one, but I never had a chance with the effin' grackles. What with making sure nobody saw me, and arranging a good safe backstop (it's awful built-up around here) and smart-ass grackles, well.. I mean, they'd stand around 6 feet away and cuss at me while I was cocking and loading the thing, and as soon as I made to bring it to my shoulder, they'd fly around the house and cuss at me from cover. Aarrgh!
okay, i'll bite, what's a grackle?
An annoying pest bird, sorta like starlings, but worse, who hangs out in huge squadrons, nay, wings, where humans have disrupted the local wild bird population. They terrorize the finches, the redbirds, even the jays and mockingbirds, who ain't skeerd o'nuthin else. They'll eat up yer mangos and avocados. They'll hassle yer kitty. Yeah, I know, Rob. They're the bird with the 'tude. I've even seen them chasing gulls, and gulls are pretty nasty themselves. They're bigger than a mockingbird, smaller than a dove, black, but not exactly, more of a very very dark iridescent purple. Always hang out in large gangs.
I think a grackle is kin to a crow. Grackles are slightly smaller, more brown than black, and they suck to high heaven. I like most birds, but I'll kill a got-dam grackle every chance I get.
I grew up in South Texas, and we had lots of Grackles down there... And also Jackdaws! When I was a kid, I honed my shooting skills by shooting them out of palm trees. And yes, they were crafty critters, because you had to sneak up on them to get a shot! However, they weren't the problem then that they appear to be now.
I heard somewhere that brown cigarettes are exempt from the federal tobacco tax. Maybe your neighbor is a closet libertarian. The electric lawn mower is kind of faggy, though.
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