Friday, March 17, 2023

GREEN PISSANTS

This blogger is feeling feisty. Which is as good a way to start my work week as any, because although it's Friday, it's my Monday. As well as Saint Patrick's Day, which I do not celebrate, because usually some fifth generation droodge with a miniscule fragment of Irish ancestry will take offense at my accent (vaguely English, decent diction) and threaten violence.
So I've never gone out to get drunk with the frat boys.
Or whatever Neanderthals do today.

Erin, go braless!

Sorry, that's just a suggestion. I don't know anyone named Erin, and in this horrid climate she shouldn't do that, it's as good a way to catch peumonia or frostbite as any.
Every scrap of clothing counts.

Besides, if a man were to wear lime-green fluffy pompoms and absolutely nothing else over his sensitive bits, this might then "encourage" people, some of whom would be improved by severe clubbing with a walking stick, such as I suggested a year ago would be appropriate for law office employees traveling without masks on the number one California line during rush hour and infecting other people. And I still think that's a splendid idea.

Yes, you can work from home if you're in a body cast.
A lovely lime green body cast.


BTW, my turkey vulture often requests that, to provide him with proper nourishment, I should unselectively whack people over the head and harvest their body parts to feed him.
People without masks on crowded buses come to mind.
He also wishes a happy Saint Patrick's Day to all you naked people.


As is well known, I advocate nudity only in service of commercial enterprise, having once suggested, strongly suggested, that a proper English pipe tobacco blend (Virginias, Turkish, Latakia) would be best sold by advertisments with a naked lady playing an accordion.

It was one of my most brilliant marketing ideas, yet sadly no enterprising merchant of the fragrant leaf poison took me up on it.

Opportunity!


It's Saint Patrick's Day. What better way to celebrate that than with an English blend in a pipe manufactured by a quintessential British company?

Might actually smoke some of the celebratory product I mentioned on Monday in it, though.
The vicious irony appeals to me.



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1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Erin, go braless!
===I see what you did there. Clever, very clever.

My St Paddy’s day consisted of scouring the web for employment opps, brushing the cat, and an evening of two old fashioneds (bourbon based), followed by a bowl of noodle/bok Choi soup and a pork chop. All homemade of course. Not that I wouldn’t have minded seeing twenty something women in short skirts stumbling aboot, but, alas, I’m not one for the crowds or noise anymore.

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