Or something like that.
Swamp Thing doesn’t want anyone (other than himself) peeing in “his” pool.
It wasn’t enough to flush $16 mil’ or so through the Lincoln Memorial Septic Tank and into some cronies’ wallets, only to see it mutate into a bubbling cauldron of goo that could dissolve Aquaman into a scattering of bleached bones.
Now he’s installed National Guardpersons, U.S. Marshals, and a couple of A.I. FinkBot 9000s™ to catch any passing “terrorists,” “antifa,” or “citizens” who happen to pause while passing the National Terlet to remark: “What is that hideous stench? Is there a dead raccoon on the premises or is Hair Füror dropping a deuce in his drawers behind one of those trees over there?”
Nope. Swamp Thing he does his doody in plain sight — it’s how he marks territory since he can’t win a war, not even the ones he starts — and then makes his knaves, varlets, henchmen, fluffers and fixers compose spontaneous poetry like “How shall we compare thy loaf-pinching to a spritz of Chanel No. 5 at Neiman Marcus?”
Reflect on that, if you feel so inclined. Me? I need some air.
Bad this is. I have no other words.
Some rumor has it that the reflection pool make-over was intended to be a quick and easy way for hiding a couple of bodies. Excavate while empty. Backfill as necessary. Apply a layer of donny’s specialty polyurethane coating. Paint with “you’ll never-mess-with-me-again” patriot blue. Refill with treated white house toilet water. Apparently the contractors forgot one of the important steps of body disposal – Insure that all sharp objects are removed from the pockets. Bodies bloat and will exert outward pressure.
Will it be a surprise that the repairing contractor suddenly discovers a couple of revolutionary war soldiers buried under the reflection pool.
Hey, he’s going to get stealth bombers to fly over his speech. The magas want to know if they will be able to see them. Bet they can’t fire their weapons when cloaked, heh?
“Beam me up, Scotty.” And the rest of that gag, too.
In the meantime, I’m gleaning some mild amusement from seeing “GOP in Disarray” headlines for a change.
Also, hot. Hot, hot, hot. The wizards are talking rain for us tomorrow but this we will believe when we see it.
Well, it’s swampy here. This afternoon we got 1/2 inch of rain here in 1/2 hour with a sprinkle of hail. Sweet.
You got rain? And hail? We was robbed! Herself heard some sprinkles tapping the bathroom skylight just before bedtime last night, but whatever fell wasn’t enough to show on our weather widget.
Still … it’s a cloudy morning and the wizards are pitching a 50-50 chance of precip’, so fingers crossed.
He’s closing the Strait of Warm Ooze! Lift the blockade! Team Algae!
“The Strait of Warm Ooze.” Hee, and also haw.
Lingering over a bowl of Bob’s Red Mill thick rolled oats this morning, we saw large swarms of gnats above the crepe myrtle bushes in our back yard and next to the sidewalk behind our house. The sight took me back in time. We used to ride along state highway 90 up to Kartchner Caverns State Park. When we did this after the first rain of the monsoon, we would ride through these gnat swarms about halfway to the park. They got in our mouths and all over our glasses, hair, face, and jerseys. Nasty, but nothing we could do but drop the hammer and speed through the swarm and brush them off down the road.
Funny you mention it: The gnats are off the charts here this year, along with some very nasty small black flies.
I was out for a run the other day, swatting the little bastids away with both hands and trying very hard not to fall down while doing it, when I saw a neighbor up ahead, walking his dogs. He was sporting wads of cotton stuffed in both ears to keep the bugs out of his brain-pan.
Also, last evening we saw a huge wasplike critter flitting back and forth across the patio. My first thought was “Asian giant hornet,” but supposedly we don’t have ’em here. So maybe tarantula hunters like the ones we had in Texas or cicada killers. They’re not supposed to be aggressive, but I don’t want to test that theory in person.
Rained off/on all day into the evening here Thursday in Colorado where I’m visiting. Big gravel race and the rodeo in town today. Gonna spectate both as it should be a fine day. But sadly, there is nothing quaint about Steamboat Springs anymore.
Steamboat? You gonna swing by Moots and pick yourself up a new rig? Get me a Vamoots 33 while you’re at it. I will pay you sometime.
My man Hal feels your pain. It’s been pissing down rain in DisneyLead as he awaits tomorrow’s Leadville Trail Marathon, which son Harrison is running this year.
We got 0.33 inch of rain here overnight and glad we were to see it. Not so much the poor sod who got himself fished out of one of the diversion channels.