We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
ATTENTION: This post and its accompanying sister post will get bumped to the top of the page a few times throughout the day in a determined effort to warn our more sensitive readers of the calamity that's just taken place:
Bird Dog's gone on vacation for 10 days.
And, without adult supervision, there's no telling what depths of depravity and despair to which this site might sink. The best I could do was promise Bird Dog that when he returned "the domain name might still be working."
You should steel yourself to witness first-hand:
— A seemingly endless panorama of buxom, scantily-clad females in a shameless display of gender objectification
— Scathing "articles of anarchy" whose ideas, if implemented, could thoroughly disrupt our good Congress's noble intentions to better mankind
— Mind-numbingly cute articles on chipmunks and butterflies as we try to sweet-talk PETA into dropping that lawsuit
— A constant barrage of bile and venom as we continue to ridicule, mock, scorn, defile and degrade California in a desperate attempt to give our own pitiful little relic of a state some tiny shred of self-respect. We fail continuously, of course, because California just plain ol' is cool, as that CA native, the handsome and dashing Dr. Mercury, bears witness to daily. But we'll keep trying.
Note that you'll still see some of Bird Dog's posts around as he tries to trick the poor bloggers into thinking he's still watching over us, but we're onto his game. He pre-timed the posts, the little rascal.
I, myself, promise that I'll do my best to maintain the high standards and level of decorum that we've come to know and expect from such a refined, elegant, tasteful site such as Maggie's Farm.
Ah, you guys have got the right spirit! Tom, how about parking your boat in the middle of the lobby for a few days? We can hang streamers off it, hire some models, put out a few buckets of champagne, and it's wood, right? Sounds like it'd be the perfect backboard for a dart contest.
Grant, you're in charge of invitations. I think a quick "FREE PIZZA AND BEER!" tweet should do it. We don't, however, want one of those "flash mobs" you read about. They'd probably trash Tom's boat, which would put him in the awkward position of figuring out which trash was new and which trash was just his normal everyday life.
Hence my concern, old friend. You'll be picking up after the flash mob, see some twisted piece of trash, think "Man, the stuff people leave lying around!" and promptly throw away your bowsprit. You'll spot on old empty wine bottle and out goes the windlass. My suggestion, old buddy, is that you wait until one of those rare moments of sobriety before cleaning up. Sure, that could mean weeks, even months, but bowsprits aren't cheap, so it seems like the prudent course to take.
Tral - I'm using it as a pillowcase cover at the moment, hope you don't mind. It's very soft against my cheek. It seemed a shame to let the dogs ruin it when it still had plenty of good miles left on it.
So sorry to hear that the standards of decency will be upheld for the next 10 days. Reminds me of the 50's, where all the normal television was wholesome, and you looked forward to the commercials featuring barbecue products, non-filter cigarettes, nose-cone Maidenform products, and cheap booze. Give us some "commercials", Dr. M.
Ah, they really knew how to make bras back in those days, didn't they? And what do we end up with? Sports bras. (cringe) Barrie's talking elsewhere about breaking the "soft laws", and this is just another example of it.
Durn tootin'. I work with a scazillion females, who fortuitously consider me part of the background chatter at times. Listening to them talk about their men is a voyeuristic education. When they remember that I'm also chowing down in the same lunchroom, they turn it up a notch, to include descriptions of gross anatomy, Gross anatomy, and functional levels, thereof. You have no bloody idea what your GF, wife, or both say about you, I'd hazard a guess. Take-away lesson for me was that wimmin are more verbal, men visual. Rock on, brother.
Update: Not that anyone's paying attention, but I'm going to push my threatened Monday morning post back to the end of the week. Weekends are our slow time, so if the FCC is going to shut down the place, it would be better to do it then.