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The beat to which I've marched.
- Wes
- Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me either. Just pretty much leave me the hell alone.
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little fookin bastard indeed. have you noticed it's been colder ever since the damn thing poked his nose out? who but a bunch of damn yankees would come up with yet another way to increase the misery of winter?
ReplyDeleteI would absolutely LOVE to set up a firing position @ 500 meters from Pux'ty Phil's burrow and blow the top of it's rodent head OFF!!!
ReplyDelete*deep breaths*
Feeling better now.
Hasn't anyone figured out that it's not the shadow he's afraid of? That it could be the noise of THOUSANDS of drunken frreaks camped out since the night before and the friggin' kleig lights, and the loud music? He's not afraid of his shadow... He's sleep deprived; he's already scared shitless from the noise, and then what happens? Some jagoff pulls him out of his den by his neck/hind-leg/scrotum, whichever is closer to hand, and says, "WHATCHA THINK, PHIL?!" Ya know what Phil thinks?
He thinks, "Leave me the fuck alone! Buncha friggin' hicks; got nothing better to do than molest a poor clueless rodent when you could turn on the weather channel or read Poor Richard's Almanac if you want to know what the weather's gonna be like! How the hell should I know?! Just let me the fuck go... Sonsabitches..."
Or something like that. I think I'm going to amend my opinion of Pux'ty Phil - I'm not gonna blame him for the longer winter. I'm gonna blame Pennsylvanians.
Sonsabitches.