"Hey Ma, the hogs ate the baby!" - American colloquialism

The question I put to one and all at El Paradiso last night was one of career choices. The hairy piss stained and yapping nightmare my Editor thrust upon me last month caused a fugue state I've only just recovered from. I woke up in a Motel 6 in Pin Point Georgia surrounded by empty Tic-Tok rum bottles and several scalps. That was 5 days ago and aside from my K-bar and a decent pair of running shoes, it was obvious I'd been rolled for all I was worth - that is, until I found a slew of pawn tickets in my now empty valise.

Apparently I'd financed a psychotic tour of the inland waterways with all the accrued possessions I have in life. Had, would be the operative term.

We've all been had, when you tally up the score.

Which brings us full circle to discussions in Paradise. Said venal, cur-bred editor had informed me that he felt bad about the whole dog pageant thing. Reports from the Garden suggested to him that I only come alive when blood sport is involved, and I couldn't agree more. As a result, he has suggested I either cover the coming Armageddon '08 or the police blotter in Pumpkin Corners, Colorado. To my mind, this means either being stuffed into a coffee can with several shit-house rats or nailed shut in a rain barrel with up to three-dozen rabid wolverines.

In either case, I'm packing a Desert Eagle.

My brain trust kicked the choices about for a bit while we watched CNN's coverage of Cheney's non-assassination. Bug Salsa, possibly the most politically sanguine of the group, observed, "Ann Coulter's pretty much of a puta, que no?"

Well, he had me there. The new generation of post-feminist political wonkettes might have shit for brains and the withered heart of  Madame Defarge, but they tend to be a bunch of high-titted fillies and I could see possibilities for various mathematical combinations on the Zoo plane.

Besides, McCain's rapidly collapsing in on himself. It would be fun to be around when the final detonation occurs. I might even pack a few pungee sticks to hasten the process, hopefully during an address to the Evangelical Congress for the Further Restriction of the Bill of Rights.

The sap in rising. I'll be back in a day or so with the book on the stable.

Nenhuma mercê

D.S.