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"What's reincarnation?" a cowboy asked his friend. His old pal told him:

It starts when your life comes to it's end: They comb your hair and wash your neck and clean your fingernails
And put you in a padded box, away from life's travails.
Then the box and you goes in a hole that's been dug into the ground.
Reincarnation starts when you're planted beneath that mound.
Them clods melt down, just like that box and you inside -
And that's when you're beginning your transformation ride.
And in awhile the grass will grow upon your rendered mound
Until someday upon that spot a lonely flower is found.
And then a "hoss" done eat it along with his other feed -
Makes bone and fat essential to the steed -
But there's a part that the horse can't use and so it passes through and there it lies upon the ground.
This thing that once was you, and if by chance I should pass by and see this on the ground,
I'll stop awhile and I'll ponder at this object that I've found.
And I'll think about reincarnation and life and death and such,
And I'll come away concludin' "Why, you ain't changed all that much!"

-- Wally McRee
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 ... as applied to zombie outbreaks.

Or, for those interested in a purely military response.


2009-06-12 23:45
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 Some houses have bugs.  Some houses have mice.  We have elves.

Normally, they're fairly quiet.  Things move around -- look for them, and you find them back in the first place you looked, after turning the place upside down.  Leaving out a bit of booze for them seems to work.  Put out a little bit of gin for them, and you find things faster.

Last night got noisy.  A thermos that had been sitting quietly on the counter for a couple of days suddenly made a quick excursion to the floor.  One less thermos, and a lot of little pieces of glass.  Fortunately, they're aluminized and easy to see -- sparkly!

I think I'd better put out some gin.
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 Simba has asthma.  Every day, we have to give him half a CC of medicine.  He doesn't like it very much.  By the standards of cats and medicine, he's pretty easy to dose, but it's still a bit of a trick.  I've pretty much got it down -- I get behind him so he can't back up, stick the nozzle in the corner of his mouth, and squirt as he's turning his head to get out of the way.  Time it right, and the squirt goes right down his throat.

Except last night.  Apparently, he had his tongue in just the right position so that the squirt got diverted through 90 degrees -- into his mouth and back out.  And into my mouth.

Yeah, now I see why he doesn't like it.  Bitter as all get-out.  I have no idea what that means to a cat; the vet says it's supposed to be chicken flavored.


2009-05-16 23:06
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A veggie burger and a dalek.

Yes, there's a story.  Photos when somebody posts some. 


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