A Son's Letter ~OR~ Fun Friday PM

 A father passing by his son's bedroom

Noticed the room unusually clean and saw an envelope propped up prominently on the pillow. It was addressed, 'Dad'. With the worst premonition, he opened the envelope and read the letter, with trembling hands.

Dear, Dad. It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you. I had to elope with my new girlfriend, because I wanted to avoid a scene with Mom and you.

I've been finding real passion with Stacy. She is so nice, but I knew you would not approve of her because of all her piercing's, tattoos, her tight Motorcycle clothes, and because she is so much older than I am.

But it's not only the passion, Dad. She's pregnant. Stacy said that we will be very happy. She owns a trailer in the woods, and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many more children.

Stacy has opened my eyes to the fact that mari*juana doesn't really hurt anyone. We'll be growing it for ourselves and trading it with the other people in the commune for all the cocaine and ecstasy we want.

In the meantime, we'll pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so that Stacy can get better. She sure deserves it!

Don't worry Dad, I'm 15, and I know how to take care of myself. Someday, I'm sure we'll be back to visit so you can get to know your many grandchildren.

Love, your son, Josh

P.S . Dad, none of the above is true. I'm over at Jason's house. I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than the school report that's on the kitchen table. Call when it is safe for me to come home.

Buffalo Heard ~OR~ Fun Friday AM

 I leave my Blog Reading friends this morning with another true stirring tale from my life: I was riding my horse along with a friend, Terry,  from back east who was riding one of our ranch’s “dude” horses. We rode next to the fence of a large bison ranch, Terry looked out across the pasture and saw a whole lot of buffalo roaming the range.

“Look at that big bunch of buffalo,” said Terry.

Me: “Don’t say bunch, say herd.”

Terry: “Heard what?”

Me: “Herd of buffalo.”

Terry: “Sure I’ve heard of buffalo.”

Me:  “No... you don’t understand, a buffalo herd.”

Terry, “Heard what?”

Me: “Nothing, a buffalo herd!” 

Terry: “I don’t care what a buffalo heard. I said nothing I’m ashamed of.”

Me: “I didn’t mean it heard you. I meant a buffalo herd.”

Terry: “What did the buffalo hear?”

Me: “Nothing, you ass-clown!!!!!”

Terry: “What are you yelling at me for? I didn’t say anything bad that the buffalo heard.”

Me: “Not heard, you turd, herd!”

Terry: “Heard what?”

Pause . . . . . . . 

Me: (SIGH) “That big bunch of buffalo over there walking along.”

Terry:  I might be a city boy, but cowboys make no sense.

ME: (RESIGNEDLY) What do you expect? We live in fly-over country. We aren’t wise and discerning like you east and west coasters.

Terry: “Hey, we don’t coast. We move fast.”

Me: CLICK . . . BANG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's Another Great Libturd Thursday Afternoon

 

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It's Another Great Libturd Thursday Morning

 

It was story time and she put her 

head on his lap. How would this world be

if we were as they? Or pre Obama.

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Skiparoo Wednesday Afternoon

 

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Skiparoo Wednesday Morning

 Thanks Skip

Libturds For A Tuesday Afternoon

 

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