Key Issues

Let's Freshify Things

Boy howdy, I hate to see a blog curl up and die due to neglect. And I speak not of Key Issues, but mine own.

Nonetheless, being of sober mind and evil merriment I found the skeleton key to this site in my waistcoat pocket, and thought I would bedevil the owner a bit. Heaven forfend I pollute my own site when the Muse is out whoring around, oblivious to my ministrations.

And so we will speak of the scours. Have you ever been to a 4-H function? Heart, Health, Whatever, Whatever. I forget the last two. Nonetheless, they are Healthy and Wholesome things. I have. Been to 4-H summer camps, and listened to kids talk about birthing mammals, and the suckling word was bandied about.

But let us cut to the chase. I promised you scours, we shall have scours.

When the Senator moved us to the Farm he bought some baby calves, which we would raise. Teach us Responsibility, and where the succulent meats come from. So far, so good. But calves get the scours, a viscious diarrhoea that causes said calf to expunge, at sound barrier velocities, excrement of a most foul nature.

My calf Clyde got the scours (named him after Clyde Barrow, having just seen Bonnie and Clyde at the nickleodeon in Statesboro that summer). Would explode a stream of Grey Poupon out of his rectum reminescent of a World War II flame thrower (aside: what ever happened to flame throwers? The Army phased them out. They're gone. Nothing says I got your number like incineration. But, again, that's just me).

I forget how we treated it. Electrolytes? I'm pretty sure we just let it work its way out.

The point? I do have one. Never ever give me your keys because you have a vacation coming up. And then forget I have them. I'm on eternal holiday. I have nothing but mischief up my sleeve. And if I were a betting man I would reckon this is my last post here. Just surmising.