Stairway to Heaven, Quick Trip to Krazy Town, Spoonful of Zowie

I've learnt a val. lesson. today. Periods. are. val.

And that if you or I decide to not give applesauce cakes to some friends for Christmas,
it is not right to take a tablespoon to the Duncan-Hines French Vanilla canned Icing.

I tis notasn Ack. BRrrrrrrrrrrrRfrerererererr!~ I asm shiogh! I can play the piano with otut a song at all!

CValories? 12,500 per tablespoon./ My take????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

the whoe lelelele can, nam, namehr4, man! lBZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I am the flashlight

Coincidence? Supernatural? Who cares?

Today is the 26th anniversary of my beloved grandfather's death. I miss him so much. Through my 12+ years of his company, he was my idol and my best friend; he taught me to hunt, to fish, he taught me of my Indian heritage and all it's pride.

I took a short nap yesterday afternoon, during which I drempt of him in a strange way. Before that, I had not dreamed of him, my granddad, my papaw, in years.

It was strange, dreaming that I was thinking of going to see him today, as a 38+ year old, instead of a 12 year old, and wondering if he'd think it strange to see me so much older, so much bigger, fatter, and worrying that he'd think it wrong to be bearhugged by another man.

I drempt of parting his hair on one side of his head, like I used to as a child, so he'd look more like me then.
Now, I pull my hair straight back like his always was, to resemble him. And I so look forward to my hair turning silver like his- I hope I never have to cut my hair short.
I am so happy that despite my weight, I resemble my grandfather; I see some of him each day in my window-mirrors.

Good eats for a week, for less than $ 10.00

Went to the Dollar Store, and got a 30-pack of corn tortillas, for $1.00. Got two cans of clams, two cans of chicken, all for $5.00. Got one box of Zatarains' rice and beans, another $1.25. And with tomatoes and banana pepper chilis from the garden, made a delicious meal (last night I ate only 8 clam tacos!!), with leftovers again for tonight!

In a saucepan, boil 3/4 C. water, and add one-half the Zatarains rice/beans mix, keeping it thicker than usual.
Stir, and cover, according to directions for 20 minutes.

In a small frypan, sautee the clams and chicken in olive oil. Add some purple onion if you like, here.

Make a homemade salsa, of the well chopped tomatoes and pepper-chilis outta the garden. I like lotsa black pepper on this, but knock yerselves out! Less is more, more or less.

Warm well the tortillas 0ver an open flame for authentic flavor, then pile on the ingredients.

JUST FANTASTIC! CHEAP TOO. SLEEP WELL TONIGHT.

This will be one of the songs played at my funeral, much to the dismay (or maybe not) of all 4 mourners.

Saloon

And if I can get away with that, I'll add
The Pine Apple Rag and then, as they wheel me out of church in my squeeky, copper-plated wheelbarrow,
an extra $5.00 will get Mrs. Teasdale to play
My alltime favorite Joplin rag, sort of a tearjerker, at the end of all things.
Except for the big dance, bonfire and cookout,
scheduled for 8 pm, that same night.

Have you ever had a moment like this?
Say you're removing your trousers for bed, and although you checked all your pockets moments before, as you take one leg out, a coin falls from one pocket of the trousers. The coin lands on its rim and begins to roll. At the very same time, you are thinking about a serious choice you have to make very soon, and instantly, you decide that if you can catch that coin before it stops rolling, then your decision will be made for you, one way or the other.

You instantly, silently agree to these terms with yourself. So with one leg in the air, one on the ground, and an empty pants leg somewhere in between, you dive for that coin, confident in your athletic abilities, despite the truth that you've not used any athletic ability since 1999.

As you are reaching for the rolling coin, a fly decides to land on your nose, thoroughly disrupting your aim, reaching for the now tettering coin.
You wipe your face with one hand, and grab at where you last saw the coin with the other....

Neither have I.

Uuggh. Current Score: Krazy Talk from Krazy Town 35, the Local Malcontent 20. And not much time left.
Meaning, only one is gonna win, unless we allow for ties. Upset in the makin'?

Posted by Wendell L. Scotchpoodle, NOT the Local Malcontent

I slept like crap last night. Does crap sleep? I slept like something that doesn't sleep at all, last night. And lucky you, I'm going to tell ya all about it.

Slipped between the sheets at about 2:30 am on this cloudless, moonless night. The stars were very clear out the windows. Amos was happy to just sleep at the foot of the bed, on the floor, as it wasn't a frigid cold night. In fact, I had the wooden door that leads out to the deck opened up, to let in the mild, 45-degree air.

All was set; the situation was perfect; deep, restful sleep was overtaking me in no time.
Until he began barking.

Amos' first bark wasn't the threatening variety, but the second one, the one which got my sudden, 100% attention, WAS. That deep, growly 'grrrr-Barruuk'. He stood there at the screen door with his short fur standing. Looking for the threat.

Funny how, that growly bark is so recognizable from the depths of slumber. I shot up in bed, looked out to the deck, the motion detecting lights were still off... I reached over into the table for my .38, just in case.

Then I heard what made Amos bark, too. Somewhere down the hill, another dog was howling. It sounded like a painful howl, and like I said, there was no moon out last night, so I was able to dismiss both stoned hippies nearby, and a werewolf. It could have been a coyote; having identified the cause of Amos' alarm to my minimal satisfaction, I scolded my friend to keep quiet, and I lay back down.

And listened to the radio, hoping it would perform its function, and lull me back to sleep. But NO, instead it featured a news story about which I couldn't stop thinking, literally. That story was about the bad reviews a new Broadway musical had received earlier that night.

Does anyone else just hate it, like I, when a good idea just will not leave your heads, until you do something about it? Welcome to my world, last night at 3:20am. I just had to rise and post an idiot Local Malcontent blog on Young Frankenstein. The thought of how good a couple of Chocolate cookies might taste about then, didn't help matters. So I got up and rapped out a post and ate two cookies.

Back to bed, I did go to sleep. But then I had one of those dreams! A dream of such clarity and detail, that the ability "to rest" was again a defeated conclusion.
I drempt that I was drafted! Drafted in the army! And though I was drafted, I already had a bad fitting uniform, and I showed up very late at night to the draft center, the army base?, and the two guards on duty were relaxing, eating a meal, kicked back. I ran up to them, with my uniform shirt all unbuttoned, hanging out, and I smack fell down onto the long table behind which these two sat. Ka-thunk.

I stepped back to see that there was an open gap in the floor, just in front of their table, and my feet had slipped into this gap. The guards were not amused. But I was allowed in, and the next stop for me was the barber shop. I stood as the barber shaved my head while I watched in his mirror, with other draftees standing there waiting. Only the guy being shaved in the mirror was not me: This didn't seem in the least way unusual to me, the same guy on the outside of the mirror. I thought he looked like Charlie Brown, and I was more pleased, than alarmed.

Next image was the mess hall for breakfast. There was a sign at the beginning of the chow line, which said that thanks to me, two guards had quit, the night before. Breakfast that morning in my army dream consisted of toast and eggs, mixed with Miracle Grow plant food? Yeah.

And finally, thankfully, the next image of the dream was of us draftees standing at attention, in a straight line, for some kind of inspection. A sergeant or a colonel or whoever came by, looked me up and down, and asked about my uniform. I looked down at it, to see what he was asking about.

And suddenly I was wearing blue. I was in the Air Force instead!
End of adventure. Now for some sleep?

NO. To top it all off, a neighbor who is not a stoned hippie calls me at 8 am sharp, and needs some help with her furnace. She can't get it lighted. She tried different ways, all night long.

So that's who was howling.

Posted by Wendell L. Scotchpoodle, NOT the Local Malcontent

My friend Jon knows what I am feeling. Would he do what I did tonight?
An unqualified yes, to that question. A dear, dear wish for Jon and her.

Four hours on the phone tonight with her, confessing it all, hearing that and more.
Laughing, screaming, doubting, and laughing again.

To the point where fatigue set in, in her, in those wilderness mountains.

"Talk me to sleep," she asked-
"I will, goodnight." I replied.

later, only half an hour in, I'm talking about my home's tin roof, and the sounds of rain and of hail on same.

Drowsily, she comes back to say, "enough".

Reminding me that I can bore even the drowsy to the edge, when I speak.

Ahya`ett`ettohnoyahA`.

Choctaw, for 'Sleep, cherished'. I told her.

But after she had already hung up.

Posted by Wendell L. Scotchpoodle, NOT the Localmalcontent.

Man, I made some good soup tonight, in between rants over on the LoCal side.

Chunky homemade mushroom soup!

1 C. regular Progresso mushroom soup.
1-1/2 pkgs. of chopped white mushrooms.
2 bell peppers
1/2 yellow onion from the garden
2 stalks celery
about 1 C. elbow macaroni
pinch of celery salt
pinch of black pepper

I took my biggest knife and cut up the veggies into 1/2 to 1 inch cubes.
Mixed all of them up, and sauteed about half of them.
Boiled the macaroni, drained it.
added the soup, the sauteed veggies and mushrooms, and a little water, far less than the can of water suggested.
Allowing this mix to boil again, I added the rest of the veggies.

This made for some good eatin', with the flavor of the sauteed vegetables, and the crisper ones too.
Probably about 20000 calories, since I used Land-0-Lakes butter to sautee...
But I can always convince myself that it was a 'lo-cal' dish.

I had some homemade buscuit dough still in the fridge, so I popped three into the oven at the same time.
It was all so tasty that I decided against driving tonight to Tyler Texas to meet my newest friend. Rather, I watched the demise of the New York Yankees. Dessert!~

posted by Wendell L. Scotchpoodle, NOT the LOCALMALCONTENT

Has anybody else ever noticed this besides me?

The same characteristics that every good person loves in a dog or a cat, (probably any pet) we hate to see in an insect?

I have a dog named Amos. Love Amos with all my heart, too. He sleeps with me, or at my bedside every night, he manages to push his way in and smell everything that I cook for meals; he rests his head in my lap when I sit here and type these very words!, and I love his curiosity. Amos will smell around my house, the truck, the chicken house, whatever- and I don't mind it one bit.

But just let a fly-- a house fly get into my kitchen and sniff around food, or buzz my ears while I try to sleep, or hang around me as I do this or that, and I am angered.

Hold on, for just a minute, while I try again to kill the fly who is walking around on my computer screen-- Rats, missed the little monster again!

But if my pet, my Amos were to get between me and this screen, this monitor, it would be a different story altogether, huh?

Posted by Wendell L. Scotchpoodle, NOT by the LOCALMALCONTENT

... yeah.





for all you really clever smarty-pantsed readers, this is my intimate bloggie. Welcome!





Take off your uncomfortable clothes, if you want; I have.





More surgery for me, your ' Wendell L. Scotchpoodle' to occur Tuesday.





To be more honest with you select and clever readers of mine, I am disturbed and frightened by this stuff. Hernia surgery is pretty commonplace, but in this case, it may be serious; it may be double-hernia surgery, and that means alot- that means a total change from my once, robust active life.





Thank you for Visiting Krazy Town, and Thank you for kindly understanding duality, and the need to express both sides of same.


I will keep up 'Krazy Town', once I'm back too, like The Localmalcontent bloggie.





I can't keep upp the constant insistance to stay 'cognizant and sane', all the time... thus this outlet. 'Ppreciate your understanding. And prayers always!





On a separate subject, have you ever seen a "dock spider"? If you had, you'd know. You'd never ever forget an encounter like that!





Once, I walked outside my house to get something from the trunk of my car, then. LONG TIME BACK~ alright? And once I'd gotten it, and closed the trunk lid, there was this big-assed, SOB spider is 5-inch wide, 8-inch long, grey bastard spider staring at me on the trunk lid! No kidding~ causedmyfirstheartattack it did!
After recovering from faint, but still scareddddddd of this monster-mutant-spider, I went back inside my hut, grabbed both a broom and my cutting board from my kitchen (HEY- it was all I could think of-), went back and swatted, then covered this big beast, then stompt his ugly ass into the ground, atom by atom.


I did not stop until he was juice.



I threw away the cutting board the same day.

The Last Time I was Really Scared! ever. About 7 years ago. Big bastard spider....
So bring on ALL the Muslim towelheads!
They'd be no problemo, no sweat for me, your Wendell L. Scotchpoodle!~

Posted by Wendell L. Scotchpoodle, NOT THE LOCAL MALCONTENT

I was fantasizing thinking overnight, how much fun it would be if the President of the United States was Ricky Ricardo. Not so much for what this ex-Cuban could do for them Cubans or us Yankees, but for the daily news, capturing the wacky wild escapades of First Lady Lucy Ricardo.

Washington- (AP) First Lady Lucy Ricardo today was seen in the Senate Chamber, arguing with the Senate Finance committee chairman, stressing that she needed more money for visits to the beauty salon. When told that the U.S. budget did not hold enough money for that kind of service, Mrs. Ricardo revealed she was indeed wearing a burlap bag dress, and paper sack shoes. The fun though, was just beginning....

Couldn't ya just love having a ditzy redhead in the White House? yeah, me too.
*************************
Tick tock

tick tock

tick tock

tick tock

tick tock
that is how time is wasted.

Posted by Wendell L. Scotchpoodle. Not the Localmalcontent

Two boys are playing football at this park in a small Oklahoma town, when one of the boys is suddenly attacked by a crazed Rottweiler.

Thinking quickly, the other boy takes a stick and shoves it under the dog's collar, twists it, and breaks the dog's neck, thus saving his friend.

A local sports reporter who was strolling by sees the incident and rushes over to interview the boy. He tells the boy he's going to write the story and says, "I'll title it 'Young Sooner Fan Saves Friend From Vicious Animal'".

"But I'm not a Sooner fan", the little hero replies.

"Sorry, since we're in Oklahoma, I just assumed you were", says the reporter and he starts writing again. He asks "How does 'OSU Fan Rescues Friend From Horrific Attack' sound?"

"I'm not an OSU fan either", the boy says.

"Wow, I thought everyone in Oklahoma was either for the Pokes or the Sooners. What team do you root for?", the reporter asks.



"I'm just visiting my cousin, I'm a Texas Longhorn fan!" the boy replies. "They're just the best!"

The reporter smiles, starts a new sheet in his notebook and writes:

"Little Longhorn Bastard From Texas Kills Beloved Family Pet".

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^



A first grade teacher in Austin, Tx, explains to her class that she is a Longhorn fan. She asks her students to raise their hands if they, too, are Longhorn fans.

Everyone in the class raises their hand except one little girl...

The teacher looks at the girl with surprise and says, " Janie, why didn't you raise your hand?" "Because I'm not a Longhorn fan, " she replied.

The teacher, still shocked, asked "Well, if you are not a Longhorn fan, then who are you a fan of?"

"I am an Oklahoma Sooner fan!" Janie replied.

The teacher could not believe her ears. "Janie, WHY are you a Sooner fan?"

"Because my Mom is a Sooner fan, my Dad is a Sooner fan, so I am a Sooner fan also."

"Well" said the teacher, in an obviously annoyed tone, "that is no reason for you to be an Oklahoma Sooner fan. You don't have to be just like your parents all the time. What if your Mom was a snotty, arrogant jackass and your Dad was a snotty, arrogant jackass, what would you be then?"



"Then" Janie smiled,"We'd be Longhorn fans."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

What does an UT graduate say to an OU grad?....Welcome to McDonalds, can I take your order?



How do UT grads park in the Handicap parking?
They stick their diploma on the front windshield.



How many UT football players does it take to change a light bulb?
Only one. But he gets three credit hours, a new car, and about $5,000 in cash for it.



How do you keep an UT student busy for a month?
Give him a package of M & M's and tell him to alphabetize them.



A UT grad wanted to get in the cattle business so he went out and bought a cow. After about 6 months a buddy asked him how it was going and he said, "I still don't have any calves yet". Another 2 or 3 months pass and the same friend ask again how it was going and he said, "I still don't have any calves yet". The buddy told him he needed a bull.
So the UT grad took his cow to the auction and bought a bull.



A Texas grad is driving home from work when his cell phone rings. He answers and his wife says "honey just wanted to warn you and let you know that I am watching the news and some idiot is driving on the wrong side of the interstate."

The UT grad then replied " honey I am already on my way home, but your wrong it is not one idiot but hundreds of them."



Albert Einstein goes to a party. He introduces himself to a lady and says, "Hi, I'm Albert Einstein. What's you're IQ?"
"240," she says.
"Great, we can discuss the mysteries of the universe and other things. We have a lot we can talk about " he replies.
Later he is talking with a man and says, "Hi, I'm Albert Einstein. What's you're IQ?"
"145," he replies.
"Great, we can talk about thermodynamics," says Albert.
Later he is talking to another man and says, "Hi, I'm Albert Einstein. What's you're IQ?
"43," the man manages to say.
Einstein gets a puzzled look on his face for a minute then says, "How about them Longhorns?"



Do you know why UT installed artificial turf on their field?
To keep the homecoming queens from grazing on the ground, but now they can't keep the groundskeeper from mowing it.

Posted by Wendell L Scotchpoodle, NOT by The Localmalcontent

Wow, I tried a whole new recipe tonight for my supper, and it was just SOooo good, I had to share it with all 3 of you readers.

Here is the delicious -ness recipe:

Take 4 slices of plain white bread;
4 slices of garlic balogna (I like "Bar-S" brand, because they give me coupons for it);
One ripe tomato from the garden;
One yellow Onion;
2 teaspoons of Kraft sandwich spread, the spicy variety;
Approximately 8 ounces of sweetened, iced tea;
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Slice 5 slices (longways) from garden tomato, and
slice 2 slices (longways) from yellow onion, too, and place to one side:
Open jar of sandwich spread, removing one teaspoon of spread at a time, and
smear allover either one or two slices of white bread;
Repeat, with the other two slices of white bread.
Place one slice of onion on one slice of bread;
Repeat, with another slice of white bread.
Cut one of the tomato slices in half, and then
place exactly 1-1/2 tomato slices onto a slice of white bread, ON TOP of onion slice;
Repeat exactly for the other onioned slice of white bread.
Apply two (2) slices of Bar-S garlic balogna ON TOP of tomato slices;
Repeat exactly with the remaining two (2) slices of garlic balogna.
Pour approximately 8 ounces of sweetened iced tea into tall glass or plastic cup.

Here is the trick, now: PLACE THE UNADORNED SLICES OF PLAIN WHITE BREAD
ONTO THE GARLIC BALOGNA, thus making a "Sandwich".

Now, along with a paper towel, take the "Sandwiches", and the cupped iced-tea to your pre-assigned, plastic-covered seat cushion, usually found in front of your television set.
**(Television set may be replaced by a computer screen with no problems)

Serves 1 person.

Go away now, I am deep into experimentation mode with twice this recipe's ingredients!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
On a separate topic, if you also are homophobic, avoid "Oscar Meyer" brand bologna.
WHY???

Because their bologna has a "first name", (it is O-S-C-A-R)
Their bologna has a "last name" too, (it is M-E-Y-E-R)
This is clearly a sexual inuendo, don't you see it too?
YUCKKK!
[My bologna has a first name, too, it's _-_-_-_] ....
Now do you get it? You should be worried, worried just like I am.

posted by Wendell L Scotchpoodle, NOT The Localmalcontent!

Seeing as how you didn't ask, I want to tell you about my California kinfolk.

They are some good, upright and important people, despite their living in Satan's livingroom, there.

One of my nieces works for a candy company, where she paints gumballs by hand, 10 hours a day. She paints em blue, red, yellow, green, pink, orange, purple, magenta, ocher, brown, silver, black, gold, fuschia and white. She got these little bottles of food coloring all laid out if front of her, along with a conveyor belt where the little grey gumballs ride past. She picks up each one and then grabs the proper paintbrush, dips it into the proper little jar of food coloring, and goes to town on them gumballs.

I got another family relation out there, only he's not as smart as the gumball painter. He is damned good lookin' however, and he is into makin' moving pictures. Act-tor, he is; He did his little job on a very popular TV show, back in the 1960s, back when TV was worth watchin'!
He jumped around alot on this show, did a little singing, did a little romancin', too. A "heart-throb", to use his words.

I got another fella whut's related to me, and he is a good speaker. He can really tell you whut for, on that Public TV show he talks on. He is a "Narrator". That is because he has good hair.

And then there's a cupple of other ladies, who admit to bein' kin to me: One is an IN-vent0r-- she invented that stuff you wipe onto screwups, makes em go away, like they disappear, too. Then you wipe your hands onto your trouser legs, and the goop does NOT go away, nor does it disappear. She made about a million bucks from that, I reckon.

And last of all, there is the jewel of the family, who lives in California, on the beach somewhere.
She can tell people (ANYONE SHE WANTS) to take off all their clothing, and they have to do it. Otherwise, they do not get what they want. NOW, how's that for a claim to fame?

Bye. Go Away while I eat my supper. Biscuits an' mustard, uhha-humm.

Posted by Wendell L Scotchpoodle, NOT The Localmalcontent

I am forced by this Blogger format to confess something:

I am The Localmalcontent. Most of the time. I carry on with politics and all sorts of raging Muslim hormones on that blog; rants really. Why, it is no wonder that after having over a month free from the nagging Internet, I fantasized during that time about having a nutty, off-the-wall blog as well.

One called "Krazy Talk From Krazy Town". A spin on something I heard Homer Simpson say.

One which would allow me to further explore my delusional sidedish, while enjoying my main entree of psychosis and gravy.

'Blogger' won't let me make distinctions between the two: Here, I am Wendell L. Scotchpoodle, or even my other altered-ego, Mr. Cephas Dovegargle. He's cool, you'll like him.
But noooooo, I have to be one person, one person only, serving two blogs.
When I am here, I am less... you know, Malcontent.

So I hear that the Burger King and the Dairy Queen had to get hitched-- seems that they had a little Jack-in-the-Box, snicker snicker. Reckon that they'll live in a White Castle?
Nothing says Lovin' like somethin in the oven!

Later--

I am Michael Jordan.... shwoosh! I am Michael Jordan.... shwoosh! I am Michael Jordan.... shwoosh! I am Michael Jordan.... shwoosh! I am Michael Jordan.... shwoosh! I am Michael Jordan.... shwoosh! I am Michael Jordan.... shwoosh!

Ok, I am NOT Michael Jordan.... airball!

So it's a lie to say that believing something so much can make it so. I dare YOU to use the word "so" three times or more in a sentence.

I am Wendell L. Scotchpoodle.... so! I am Wendell L. Scotchpoodle.... so! I am Wendell L. Scotchpoodle.... so!?

Am I the only person who just really loves to have stupid, pointless and absurd dreams? I just awoke from a doozie. I dreamed that I was lying on the ground, outside a big hotel, at night, in a city I have never been to. Must've been a Southern city, like Miami or Rome or Rio de Janerio.
Wasn't Miami, cause I have been there, but it seemed warm at night there. Maybe San Diego. But I been there, too. I did some weird stuff, like peek into some of the windows into people's hotel rooms, but then a group of boy scouts or something like them were marching by, and two or three of these kids ran over and hid on the side of the hill where I was also hidden. But I was really clever, and rolled up into a ball, and these kids never even saw me, even though they were right next to me! Then I reached into the hotel window and grabbed some guy's wallet right out of his trousers and ran off, counting the money within.

There ought to be a word which describes a compound word or phrase that defines it as something which both poses a problem, AND proposes it's own solution.
Like "oxymoron", which describes a compound word where a rhetorical figure in which incongruous or contradictory terms are combined, as in "a deafening silence".

Cause I have the compound word, just lacking another word to describe it: Political Suicide

It's a play on words. I spend alot of mental energy contemplating plays on words.
Or hadn't you noticed?
Perhaps you noticed instead that I dislike politicians.

More of my wasted, mental energy exposed for all to see later! Bye!

Posted by Wendell L Scotchpoodle, NOT The Localmalcontent

Now I have no idea what would be the worst job in the world-- have you?

But "logic" dictates that there must be one job, or one job title, which is the very worst in the world. You hear people all the time claim that they have " the Best Job in the World", so does it make you wonder too, like me, what would be the worst job ever?

So here's what I'm thinkin: It would have to be a downright demeaning duty, and it would have to be nasty to the point that if it was your job, you would wretch and vomit before, during and then after.

Let's move forward with the demeaning part here: Say, you work for Queen Elizabeth II, or for Fidel Castro, or for some other higher-and-better-than-everyone-else type. And let's imagine also that this magnificent Lord or Lady has someone who does absolutely everything for them, so's that they never have to even lift a finger.
Well, even these types have to go to the bathroom sometimes, am I right?

I think the very worst job in the world would have to go to the person who's job it is to wipe that Royal Butt. Or more.

My first blog entry. On what I think would be the worst job in the world. There is nowhere to go from here, but up.
Till my next blog entry, Goodbye!

Posted by Wendell L Scotchpoodle, NOT The Localmalcontent.