Saturday, January 24, 2009


I neither encourage nor discourage traffic here - I more or less bay at the moon and let the visitors stop by randomly, but my post the other day about John Thain's choice of commodes generated a jump in hits. I trust it was only temporary, as I intend to refrain from commenting about his curtains (drapes - whatever) and could care less about whether they matched the carpet or only coordinated with it.

But that traffic spike got me to looking at what brings folks here, and most of 'em, historically, seem to come looking for squirrels. I don't understand that. Squirrels, ladies and gentlemen, are not like Bubba's shrimp. They do not, around here, come fried. Sauteed. Deep fried. Broiled. Saladified. Sandwiched. Boiled. Foiled. Poached. Whatever. The only squirrels you'll find here are "treed" or "on the other side of the fence." Not "fricasseed" or "on rice."

I chase those vile beasts off: you're more likely to find cheeseburgers and onion rings or fries here, leftovers from our latest trip to Lenny's Bar and Grill and Swapmeet*

*Yes. I still owe you a link. I'll get to it. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day.

Français/French Deutsch/German Italiano/Italian Português/Portuguese Español/Spanish 日本語/Japanese 한국어/Korean 中文(简体)/Chinese Simplified Tagalog/Filipino


Post a Comment

<< Home