Archive for May 24th, 2013

Don’t You Hate It …

Friday, May 24th, 2013

… when they sit on the dryer?

Muslim Maniacs

Friday, May 24th, 2013

It’s hard to imagine hacking a human being to death with machetes and knives. It’s hard to imagine because we’re human beings and these London terrorists are animals.  Animals with a cause are still just animals.

The bastards were babbling about stopping the droning in Afghanistan and this was “an eye for an eye” or some such horseshit.  These dogs (about the worst insult you can give a Muslim) and I agree the droning must stop – but we violently disagree about how to achieve that end.

Militant Muslim terrorists still haven’t figured out that murdering innocents for their cause makes those against them even more hardened in their views. The United States is now even MORE likely to support drone attacks if vermin like this can be exterminated by them.

Banquet For Flies

Friday, May 24th, 2013

Today is the beginning of the Memorial Day Weekend. Often this means abandoning the ease and comfort we’ve developed for civilized dining – to eat outside – with the flies.

Typically, the Dad drags out the charcoal grill, dumps on too much lighter fluid, and then jumps back from the 2-foot flames.

“I’ll be ready for those steaks in about 10-minutes!” he shouts to his eye-rolling wife who’s just thankful he didn’t set the house on fire. The kids groan when they see a backyard inferno like they haven’t seen since the wildfires on television.

“MOM! Can we go to McDonalds?”

”No!” she yells back. “We’re a family – and families eat outdoors together on Memorial Day. It’s important to your Father.”

Louder groans. “Why?” one yells.

“God friggin’ knows…,” she thinks as she scoops salads onto paper plates from plastic containers.

“Go set the table! Use the paper plates and plastic silverware.” More groans.

Even before the kids find the long lost picnic supplies, the wind picks up and a new species of aggressive fly is attracted to the smell of burning meat. Finally the family is seated. Paper plates are held down by mayonnaise salads and one hand – as the other tries to shoo away the unrelenting pests.

And despite the fact that everything on the grill is now uniformly burnt to a crispy black, Dad asks the punch line question, “How would you like your steak?”