Smokey Mountain Breakdown

Not sure how many of you are intimately aware of the joys of living in close proximity to livestock.

A huge part of that, aside from hearing their happy little farm animal noises and watching their joyous cavorting, is flies. Usually by this time of year, they've cleared out somewhat after a few freezes. But for some reason, they are lingering this year.

Try as I might, there always seems to be a dozen or so that come in the house. I'm very suspicious that they come in riding Old Man, who they are convinced is already dead, despite his rather energetic moving about. Perhaps the flies think he is Zombie Dawg. I'm not entirely sure they are wrong.

Anyway, I'll be minding my own business and typing away on what ever damn thing I'm working on at the moment, and there is always this one fly that just can't seem to leave me alone. It's a big mistake for the local house fly population.

I am armed with the most high tech fly fighting equipment available. I have not one, but two crappy Wal-Mart fly swatters. Both are dayglo orange, just in case I need to on a murderous fly swatting rampage in the local wildlife management area and need so many square inches of international orange visible.

So, the moment the flies harass me to the breaking point, I grab my weapon and start marching through the house dropping little fly corpses all over the place. There is usually a great deal of swearing involved.

Fat Buddy finds the entire exercise hilarious and starts barking and following me around and I continue on my rampage. I really don't get what he finds so damn funny about this.

There is another installment of "Porn and Donuts" over on EditRed. Here's just a taste....

Lucius had been laid off recently from Miss Lucy’s Wild West Rodeo Show and Dinner Theater. It was a sweet gig while it lasted. The show featured a five-course meal served without cutlery, a necessity after one of the patrons attempted to stab another with a sharpened spork, resulting in a law suit. The suit was dismissed, but Miss Lucy put her foot down and made the permanent move to finger food. For 25 bucks a head, you could eat your broasted chicken and rolls with your bare hands while enjoying the thrill of elaborately costumed rodeo riders galloping around the arena chasing cattle. It was an elegant evening filled with food and livestock.