Miss Mia Sopaipilla reports from the field that spring has sprung, no matter what your calendar may say.
Also, she adds, you needn’t worry yourself sick about health care. Whenever Mia gets the vapors, a sick headache, or the jim-jams, some two-legged type takes her to the vet and picks up the tab.
Apparently this good Samaritan also provides nutrition and sanitation, likewise free of charge.
Mia recommends we all get ourselves one of them there.
Goddamn acid flashbacks. Where the hell am I now? Xanadu? Hobbiton? Oz? Oh, whew, just the back yard. I was afeared I’d stumble across Ann Coulter with a house on top of her.
Welcome to the earliest vernal equinox since 1896, according to EarthSky.
The vernal equinox is named for Vern, the ancient Roman god of aeration. The illegitimate offspring of the lesser deities Benadryl, god of drying up, and Kleenex, god of mopping up, Vern (like Your Humble Narrator) had a small but entirely deranged following; his was dedicated to perforating nouns, which is to say people, places and things. Especially people.
The conspirators who did for Julius Caesar were all dedicated Vernalites, though they claimed afterward that their knifework was intended to permit vital fluids to gain entrance rather than draining them.
Indeed, among the Vernalites a certain belligerent thickheadedness was considered a blessing rather than a curse, and today we can find their descendants manning customer-service “help” desks, hosting the morning drive-time “zoo” at local radio stations, and running for president on the GOP ticket.
It was a quiet St. Patrick’s Day around El Rancho Pendejo, as you might expect from my previous post.
We had the previous owner of the place over for a glass of wine with Herself — Kathy is the green-thumbed person who planted the lovely flowers that are just beginning to pop up for a look-see — and we caught up on this and that, discussed the parlous state of the Republic, and in general had a delightful early evening.
I’d had a pot of Irish stew simmering on the fire, and invited Kathy to join us, but she had other plans. So it was just the two of us nibbling away in front of the tube — season one of “Orange Is the New Black,” which is OK but so far no “Breaking Bad,” thanks all the same. (Yeah, we’re late to the popular-culture party again.)
Today I need to log a little saddle time, if I can ever stop blowing my nose (honk). Still, could be worse. Here the temps may inch up toward the 70-degree mark. Back in Bibleburg, it’s snowing.
Snerk. Hyeenk. Björk. Honnnnk. Fwwaaaaahhhh.
Why, yes, it is allergy season. Thanks for asking.
Thhhhhfffffbbbbllllph.
Mad Blog Media 