I hate to disappoint, but sometimes I just gotta
But old Hoss didn't escape the Old Farts Home by being anything but pure-D stubborn, and he kept reading into my archives.
This is the part where I have to seriously question his judgement. He said that I am "pretty funny. Possibly VERY FUNNY." Unless he has actually seen me bark at the tree the squirrel went up two days ago even though I just chased that same squirrel along the fence and into the neighbor's yard, he has no reason to accuse me of that sort of thing. I am not funny. I am persistent. I am not consistent, but I am persistent. (That's a couple syllables long of being a Haiku.)
I have very nearly backed myself into a corner here, but I will duck away from its confines and run across the back forty with an idea: Red Skelton was funny. The Three Stooges were funny. Chris Rock IS funny. Gene Maudlin IS funny.
And the rubber-tired bitch in it all is that now that he's wandered over here, I can no longer steal his stuff with impunity.