THE GERMAN BIRTH CONTROL DEVICE ROBBERY

Sometimes it's like living with a creative genius. Sometimes, a horde of little furry psychopaths. She voices for the stuffed creatures, and also for herself. Often while doing other things too.

This evening she was behind her computer doing research while watching Jewelry TeeVee.

I mentioned that a German man had accidentally caused his own demise by blowing up a condom machine with a homemade bomb, which blasted a metal shard into his brain.


First musing: "A well-aimed shard, that; tiny brain."

Second musing: "Free-range morons; probably just a road hazard in Europe."

Third musing: "I wonder how his mourners will keep from giggling at his funeral."

Fourth musing: "They'll probably quarrel, along the lines of "hah, that''s YOUR side of the family, not mine", and "I told you that bathing regularly softens the mind"!"


Somewhat surprisingly, she evinced no sympathy whatsoever with the dead guy, nor with those who have now lost their beloved older idiot brother or young sh*t-for-brains child. I would have thought, given that she is easily moved by sad events and tragedies, that she would have at least exclaimed "oh, that's SO sad, so buggery effing SAD!"

Or something similarly heartfelt and emotional.

Nope. None of that. I guess the loss his kinfolk feel does not move her in the slightest. Which indicates that she is, after all, quite normal.



New word: Obstreptorous. This uttered in a conversation between two stuffed animals, one of whom now looks worn out from holding it all in.
The other one is a paranoid little woozums.



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