The haze around here lately is courtesy of our neighbors to the north, who continue to be on fire.
Down south, Georgia finds itself contending with an unnatural disaster, as a conga line of douchebags waltzes in and out of the Fulton County sneezer after cutting bond-and-release deals of various weights.
Here at El Rancho Pendejo we have our ongoing landscaping project, which involves neither conflagration nor sedition.
As it enters an extended ditch-digging/pipe-laying phase I thank the gods that I stumbled into journalism, much of which can be done sitting down, in the shade.
Still, I’d gladly stand for hours in the Georgia sun if I got to see the Tangerine Turd get printed and mugged, especially if he came off looking half as frazzled as Rudy the Mooch. Dude looks like a drunk goat trying to shit a rusty tomato can.
Mad Blog Media 
In a different country, one that the dumpster seems to admire, Rudy would have been on an airplane that mysteriously crashes with no survivors.
I kinda thought the same thing when I heard about that plane crash. It was long overdue payback from Vlad the Impaler.
Remember the good old days, when we had a chance at achieving something like an imperfect understanding of an event? Now the conspiracy theories are all pushing and shoving each other like an army of hobos trying to climb aboard a one-boxcar train.
Did Pooty-poot have his chef croaked? Did Prigozhin fake his own death? Jesus H. It’s like watching some DC Universe WTF-athon where Gotham City has a dozen Jokers and no Batpersons.
Tom Nichols had some comments.
https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2023/08/putin-wagner-group-prigozhin-sudden-death/675101/?utm_source=newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=atlantic-daily-newsletter&utm_content=20230823&utm_term=The%20Atlantic%20Daily
Tom Nichols is a smart fellow and a fine writer. He and Katherine Wu are worth every penny I pay to The Atlantic.
“Dude looks like a drunk goat trying to shit a rusty tomato can.”
Now that is a demonstration of why you always had a journalism job as long as you wanted it.
Initially I was thinking about how hard it would be to shit in a tomato can, especially one of those little tomato paste cans. But then I took off my dirty reading glasses and cleaned them. Yep, shitting out a rusty tomato can. Now that’s something I only want to imagine. But I guess if you want to work in the trump tomato factory, you better be ready to lick the paste off the putter.
Ditch digging and pipe laying. Are you putting in air lines in your yard to give the plants a false sense that they’re actually going to see some water?
Don’t forget “on-the-spot Photographer” too. A little flare of imagery helps with those words. Thank you.
Water. Oy. The goal was to use less of it, since we’ll have less grass to water. But I’m starting to wonder whether we cut deeply enough into the greenery. Here’s hoping the landscapers are laying down a smarter, more tightly targeted irrigation system than the old one we’ve been using.
We could always pull up more grass and add more gravel. But I like a little bit of lawn to help cool the sunny side of the house.
Right now it smells like rain. Fingers crossed. …
Grass? A small token lawn perhaps? Is it for a new pup perhaps? Now there is a conspiracy theory!
Did Pooty off the guy and his buddy. That’s his MO.
I have a traditional lawn irrigation system. It consists of a couple of hoses that I enjoy dragging around with a sprinkler on the end. I like to think that if I am wasting precious water, at least I’m directly involved with the knowledge of it each and every time I water. I could contribute to the home builder economy and put in an underground system, but I’m a lazy bum and would rather spend my money on bicycles and my time on riding said bicycles.
Here’s to everyone receiving some nice cool light rain every other summer night between the hours of midnight and 5 AM.
We got another 0.04 inch of rain overnight. Bonus! The forecast calls for a tad more this morning. This we will believe when we see it.*
I’ve not been letting the old irrigation system run on automatic the past few years. I fire it up every so often if the rains are avoiding us, which they have been — we’re at 50 percent of what we ordinarily get for August and the same for the year to date.
I like watering with the garden hose, too. I use the hose for the newish Chinese pistache that took the place of the decrepit crabapple that even the deer started shunning; the rose of Sharon, which is a troublesome little bastard that is either getting too much sun or not enough; and the trees and shrubs in the front “yard,” which has no underground irrigation.
I’m thinking about adding rain barrels beneath a couple of our canales to catch roof runoff (when we get any) to feed a few shrubs that sit close to the house.
* Whaddaya know? We got a nice little rain starting around 8 a.m., just about the time the landscapers turned up. Man, for those dudes it’s either sunburn or a soaking.
I wish my fabled wordsmithing weren’t so random. Now and then loose bits of this and that bump into each other in my noggin, say, “Let’s get the hell out of here,” and flee the scene through my fingers into the keyboard and onto the blog.
And they got Rudy’s Good Side, can you imagine if the got his bad side?
I thought the dude was all bad side. Or is that his boss? Maybe both of ’em?
Well you southwest dogs you finally shipped your heat wave to the Mitten State where it hit 92 here but with the humidity the “feel like” temp was 104. The “feel like” to me was actually like exiting a hot sauna and having someone hand you a steaming hot wet towel fresh from the oven. But I shouldn’t bitch since it’s supposed to be out of here in a few days whilst you poor desert dwellers have seen day after day of it. But as you always claim….it’s a dry heat. Ours…bringing out mushrooms in every size and shape imaginable.
I gotta find the drunk goat picture! Quite a visual once again POG.
We passed it on to you, did we? Sorry about that, bruh. That soggy heat you guys get is like jogging through a car wash with a freshly skunked Labrador for a raincoat.
We actually had a nice day here. It clouded up early, there was a light breeze from the east, and I think the high topped out around 85°, which would be slightly below normal for a change.
I think I mentioned something about it before, but a tad more than a few years ago I resided in the grand city of Houston. I did a bit of racing down there hither and yon across the area. One of the things I enjoyed was an evening hammer ride from one of the main parks in Houston. The ride zig-zagged across the north part of town and then ended up back at the park. It was not a “let’s wait for Donald because he was dropped” kind of ride. It was a delightful attack fest that only hesitated when we didn’t time one of the traffic lights right. During the summer months, when the temps were in the high 90’s, those traffic light stops were brutal. No breeze and sweat dripping down all over. You implored the light to turn green so that your sweat droplets didn’t wreck your glasses. During those moments of red light stasis, if was mighty hot. When the green emerged, it was a race to gain back forced air cooling. What a delightful time it was.
It cooled down her in the Beautiful Suburbs of Hell, it only hit 104°F yesterday.
Only 104°? Man, I hope you remembered where you put your winter coat. Brrrrr!
It’s OK we warmed back up to 107°F so I was able to pare back to a single neck wrap over my mangled cervical muscles, and a T-shirt and shorts.
I need to change my WordPress profile to use my real name.
Noticed you didn’t address the puppy theory. Maybe Sandy and I will spend a few days in Bibleburg and drop Duffy at your place for a sleepover. Herself gets a lapful of Duffy while watching the lobotomy box, and you, sir, will be a dog owner.
Wahhhhhhhh. I want his mug shot and I want it now! Dartboard needs a fresh target.
We get some dog time during our trail runs, yielding trail to people walking their pooches. Scratch a few ears, watch some tails wag, move on.
I think Miss Mia Sopaipilla is enjoying being an only pet. Two servants, no waiting. Morning and evening shifts.
Whaddaya think we’re gonna get for a mug shot, if anything? The smirk or the glare? A smirking glare? I wish I had some throwing knives. I do have a smallish hatchet.
Throwing knives, smowing knives. Us mighty folks that live in areas of beetle affected trees and smoky landscapes throw polaskis.
and although mighty, we don’t wear women’s underwear.
Just think how politically incorrect that is today.
Yes, I did think about that. But only after I posted it without political foresight or messaging intent. With respect to all folks some of us ageing reptiles forget how messages may be interpreted. But I think if I was a lumberjack that liked wearing women’s clothing, that I would probably find the Circus crew quite funny.
So much of what we found funny in the Before-Time is now considered a no-no by some. The pointer on the Comedy Dial shifts from Insensitive to Overly Sensitive and back again.
Happily, comics keep pushing the envelope. Funny is a dance along the ragged edge, and sometimes we fall.
Word! I like humor that really pushes the envelope. Makes you wonder how Carlin or Pryor would be received by today’s delicate audiences.
Python, Carlin, Pryor, Mel Brooks, etc. Where would we be without them? Good satirical comedy makes you laugh and split a gut while wincing.
And we’re not racist, either…
I believe a part of the Black Lives Matter movement is to remember satire such as this so that we can truly understand how ignorant and misguided cultures have treated those that may not look like them. May we diversify, progress and prosper.
But I shall admit that I’m still prejudiced against those who can so easily just whoop it out.