When a Second Amendment Rally Attended by Tens of Thousands Goes HORRIBLY…

right.

A story in pictures…

!!!

In Presidential Contention News: Fauxcahontus

…has seemingly self eliminated, no?

Survey says: YES.

Lemme count the ways…

A Musical Dedication

…based on current events and breaking news.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BINGLEY!!

Another year gone, and more wisdom gained.

You are our inspiration, our intellectual leader, and our idol.

Never change.

“Did You Get Your Pen?”

*giggle giggle smirk*

What a frickin’ disgrace.

And If They Should

…run out of cake?

 I’ll have the chicken then, please.

NOBODY Touches the Toys

NO. BODY.

The Claws Are Starting to Come Out

…but it will never be a frontal attack with these people.

And it begs the question whether the Sanders folks were just slow off the mark getting the shivs ready, and Fauxcahontas beat them to a leak.

Filed Under:

I’m DYING here…

Perhaps Sean King should just sit this one out…

Some Days

I had one of those days today. Started out with a couple vague objectives in mind – get the scruffy Scottie to the groomer, look for some ancient replacement Revere Ware at the local junk stores, drop a crying shame load of shoes, etc, off at the Waterfront Mission (check there for the pots, too). Wait for major dad to get home,so we could take a load of not-so-loved hardcovers to the local used bookstore. That kind of day.

Well, drop the shaggy dog off, check. Wandered up to an “antique” mall on Mobile Highway, and found a few treasures, including a cool kitteh for the Japanese Maple. (Doesn’t YOURS have one? What a pity.) Hit the donation drive through at the Mission, AND wandered through the store. What has become of 1950’s Revere Ware? A year ago I could name my pot, and VOILA! $7! Now, I can’t find the damn things! WHO. ARE. YOU. PEOPLE TAKING MY STUFF?!?!?!

Headed home, and unloaded my treasures, with major dad – back from the gym – making all the appropriate noises of approval.

Grabbed the 15 pound sack of hard covers, and off we went.

Now, I’ve sent him and Ebola over the years with boxes and bags full of books, but, sad to say, I’ve never actually even gotten as far as the parking lot, less mind INSIDE the store. Today, however, I was on a mission. I’ve got almost a complete set of Hornblowers, but damn if one volume from one publisher isn’t becoming a massive pain in the derriere getting ahold of. I figured I might just find it.

What a wonderous store. Lo and behold, my sack o’ offerings got me FIFTEEN DOLLARS AND CHANGE in credit! YOWSAHS!

And didn’t the lady-in-the-know drag me straight to the “Sea Stories” section. Well, hello. There WAS Lord Hornblower, but. Wrong publisher. Waah. Waah.

Never one to let a good chunk of change go to waste, I thought I’d check for one book I’d almost bought at another antique store, and check for work from yet another author, since I’d decided it’s time to burnish my “Southern” reading credentials. There she was – a paperback edition of “Cross Creek” by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. Okay, and…here’s a hardcover Eudora Welty! Only one, and that’s okay, because that’s all I need to get reading. I snatch it off the shelf, too. After making sure major dad hadn’t seen anything he simply must have (I AM willing to share my bounty, contrary to SOME opinions.), I trot up front happier than a clam, and am still – after settling accounts – $12.06 to the upside (They found another book for credit in the bottom of my bag as I was checking out – CHA CHING). #score

Get home, clean the dirt off the terra cotta cat…

…wonder why the Scottie wasn’t done at the groomers yet, and start to gently work the price stickers off the books. I don’t care if I paid $2 or $200 for a book, I don’t want ANY sticker, nor any sticker GOO, on my covers. GRRRR.

They cleaned up real good.

Then I opened the Welty.

And about dropped the damn thing.

Picked it up, and about dropped it again.

Then did a little Googling out of curiosity’s sake, to see if…well…yup.

That was her.

So a first edition, with a lovely personal note from the author. For, basically…free.

major dad thinks in terms of dollars and cents on this one, but, spook that I am, I see a sign.

A “You get writing, girl” kinda sign. Wouldn’t you say?

Messages from beyond. That’s pretty Southern, no?

I’m all about the signs.

What Kids SHOULD Be Doing

And I salute their parents.

I Hate Pajama Boys

Hateses them.

UPDATE: I see that the original poster has chosen to finally delete his tweet, after taking what could generously be described as a brutal pounding. Let me set the scene for you:

A video of the moving walkway at Atlanta airport. As travelers – including the poster – use the center conveyor, the sides are flanked with hundreds of American SOLDIERS, probably members of the 82d, awaiting transport to the latest flare-up in the always peaceful Middle East. Some are walking along the glass railing adjacent to the autowalk, but most are just patiently standing in line. A LONG line along the terminal walls.

The poster’s written comment on HIS video?

This is terrifying.

The tweet below was my answer.

After deleting his despicable commentary on America’s blood and treasure, “Danny Ocean” settled for this:

I assume we are all meant to worship at the altar of his profoundness.

UPDATE PART DEUX: Well, lookee here what I found when I opened the laptop. A “terrifying” moment in time, frozen for all eternity.

You be the judge…

I HATE these POS.

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And I hope you all don’t mind my dropping the tweets in here. It’s a prelude to being about to post on a regular basis like I used to years ago, as I am now a member of the great unwashed and unemployed, which is VERY MUCH to my liking.

Here’s fair warning…gird yer loins.

They Didn’t Really Need a Whole Plane

Could have just sent a Fedex cooler.

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