It has been said, and not only by me, that I live a strange life. The word entertaining should often be included in that description. Recent work at the secret compound of Daddy Warbucks has been interesting.
People other than DW often stay there; relatives and associates, I assume. I just do what is in front of me to do and don't have direct involvement with the owner or his cohorts, so far. The last group only broke a few things. One of which was a trip bar thing that makes the toilet flush. Of course it is of a type that is not typical so the rather generic piece is not like those in the water closets of lesser folks. It seemed a simple issue when I agreed to solve the problem. Fortunately there is some time between now and the next visitors.
Maybe I'll have to make the part. I can't even find anyone who has that size brass or bronze rod. So, a ten minute job has involved hours of searching and driving and emails to Fancy Toilets R Us. If they reply, I will be happy. It's good to be hooked up where odd things break, requiring one who is good with odd fixes.
There's a rabbit out back who is lucky I'm so sporting. He was a long way off before I tried to nail him with my slingshot. I hit all around him then gave up. At that distance it probably would have only startled the creature anyway. I thought he'd make a good hat. I could fold down his ears over mine in cold conditions, like those hats Inca musicians wear in the subway. Canadians wear them too I think. Not all, but some.
I'm really taken back by this witch hunt on Michael Phelps. It's a case of law enforcement totally losing sight of their legitimate purpose. They can't be blamed considering the administrators of government have forgotten their legitimate purpose. What a waste of tax money. How people can condone such police state shenanigans is beyond me.
Hopefully I won't have to go around saying, "Free Michael", like when I was saying "Free Martha" after she was railroaded by tyrants and a kangaroo court. Piss off the wrong people and they bar no holds.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
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- John0 Juanderlust
- Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
- Like spring on a summer's day
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I am laboring to find a connection between broken commodes, rabbits and Michael Phelps.
ReplyDeleteThis is clearly beyond me.
Connection? Did I say there is a connection? My thoughts float about like repelling magnets. Although in the new world order sense, there actually is one--just not stated.
ReplyDelete:)
ReplyDeleteah, you can connect anyway you want to! now, don't go taking that naughty heehee
ReplyDeletedid you read? I'm a grandma again! woohoo