Earwigs - Need I Say More?

I thought not. I am convinced that the entire planet is infested with the wretched things.

They have neither obvious ears nor do they wear wigs so I can only assume their main goal in life is to take up residence in the closest ear canal. Given that I sport a pair of quite prominent, nay magnificent ears, I live in fear that an entire colony will soon be settled there. Meanwhile, I can't look in my food bowl without finding at least one scuttling about, or look into or underneath any object without unearthing a vast mob of the repulsive insects. They would appear to eat anything, live anywhere and also bite without much provocation.

I know the last is true because yesterday the Woman suddenly began spinning around the aisle of the barn whilst slapping vigourously at her leg. Of course I assumed she was posessed by demons, which makes complete sense in her case, but in fact one of the dreaded earwigs was biting her leg with great determination. Then, heaven help me, she cast off her leg coverings and discovered the earwig (now former earwig). I averted my eyes as soon as I could but what has been seen cannot be unseen.

And based on this latest event, I put forward the theory that earwigs are the most dangerous and revolting beings on the planet.

I May Be An Addict!

It happened like this, casually, without thought, as so many of these situations do. Let this be a warning to others.

I was halfway through my meagre dinner portion when the woman leaned into my room and tipped a small bag of unindentified white powder into my bowl. I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised as she is given to bizarre actions that make no sense. Of course MY natural reaction was to snort loudly while attempting to identify said powder. The result was a that a toxic cloud enveloped us and a good portion of the stuff was drawn directly into my sinus cavities. Too late, I realized she must have snuck a vast quantity of cocaine into my food! Why, I could not say, nor could I imagine where she would have acquired such an amount of the stuff.

I retreated to the far corner of my room, snorting and hacking, in an effort to rid myself of the white peril. I could feel the effects on my brain almost immediately. I felt curiously exhilarated and buoyed up and the more I thought about it the more I quite liked the experience. Just like that, I had been launched on the road to perdition. Of course, Herself found it all highly amusing. Those people do, once they have you hooked.

She accused me of being overly dramatic and even pursued me with the bowl, invitating me to take just the tiniest of tastes as she was sure I would like it. And heaven help me, I eventually did just that. It tasted...well, strangely minty. Not at all what I expected but most pleasant. Obviously I was a prime candidate for addiction. And that's when she explained that it was the residue from the bottom of the bag of English mints.

Honestly, you think she might have mentioned the mint element before putting me through all that. But no. She simply cackled in a most unbecoming manner and called me "overly dramatic". Pshaw. Just another typical day at the madhouse. Now I must work on restoring my sinuses to normal operating condition.

Insight Into An Actual Donkey Roping Event

I am posting this link to a write-up by Libby Cluett of the Mineral Wells, Texas, donkey roping event from March, 2009 to give an insight into how utterly terrifying and miserable this "sport" is for the donkey participants.

The event was organized at the last minute through a few phone calls and yet managed to draw one hundred and fifty teams of ropers who took turns roping twenty donkeys. Her description of the many ways the donkeys try to avoid being chased and roped is heartbreaking and a testament to the donkeys' intelligence and awareness. Read it and weep.

http://mineralwellsindex.com/local/x154977775/The-Burro-Boys

A Reprieve - For Now

It would seem that Jason Owens, the donkey-roping magnate, has bowed to overwhelming pressure and called off the championship of donkey roping to be held today in Van Horn, Texas. Not because he has changed his mind about the ethical or moral nature of the event but because so much attention has been drawn to the planned roping that local authorities decided to shut it down, on this occasion anyway. Owens himself, as well as Larry Simpson, editor of the Van Horn Advocate, are of the mind that a slew of meddling animal rights activists have infringed on Owens right to do as he wishes with the donkeys he claims to have rescued from slaughter. Owens rationale and touching tale of saving herds of wild donkeys is as full of holes as swiss cheese.

As a self-proclaimed showman and event organizer, surely Mr. Owens can replace this travesty with something else. I suggest he and Mr. Simpson and any of their cronies who wish to help out, hire some of those donkey costumes available at select stores. Once in the suit, they could have fake horns placed on their heads and be given a head start out of the roping chute, with the aid of a cattle prod, if necessary. Mr. Owens assures us that the real donkeys undergo only 31 seconds of stress per roping so the humans shouldn't be too bothered by being yanked off their feet by a lasso and stretched out on the ground as the audience cheers wildly.

Although a firm believer in the traditional quill and quire, I must admit that this world-wide web business can be quite useful in rallying support for a cause like this. We must remain vigilant, however, these donkeys are not out of danger yet.

I'm Back and I'm FURIOUS

I have been thwarted and muffled lo these many months but finally, something so heinous has come to light that Herself has been forced out of hibernation to woman the keyboard.

That something is this. In the state of Texas, in a town called Van Horn, it is deemed to be a sport to chase after terrified donkeys on horseback, rope them around their necks and feet, throw them violently to the ground and then pull the ropes as tight as possible. This is done repeatedly until the donkeys are so physically and or mentally exhausted and damaged that they can run no more. Humans pay to witness this event and cheer wildly when the donkeys are thus tortured and tormented. They also bring their offspring so they can be taught this attitude toward other living beings. The town of Van Horn has mistaken 2012 for 1512 and will no doubt be enthusiastically supporting bear baiting any time now.

I am including a link to a petition that will allow you to express yourselves on this matter. It is not only in Van Horn that this travesty takes place, but we can at least begin the process of making our voices heard with this petition. 


http://www.change.org/petitions/van-horn-texas-chamber-of-commerce-donkey-roping-must-be-stopped?utm_campaign=friend_inviter_action_box&utm_medium=facebook&utm_source=share_petition

a reporte frum jack

i got a lot ta tell ya, i bin so busy i hardly had time fer mi three naps a day. they couldint run this outfit with out me actin as boss donkey an its a good thing i got forty four years of experiunce cos i need all of it mos days.

i'll give ya the bad news first. poor old osullivan donkey had a long fite with the infections in his feet and finally asked sheila ta let him go on account he jest couldnt fite no more. this was the same time helen the sheep was tellin sheila she was ready to go on accounta the years pilin up on her and the arthuritis and what not. so the vitinry helped them both ta lie down for the big sleep. they are together in the groun, botha them got their own qwilt to lie on an helen is lyin smack between osullivans legs so the both a them took the journey together. and then doncha kno cory donkey who had helth problems forever went on the same trip. we were all feelin it pretty hard i kin tell ya.

then sheilas ole cat oliver who had twenny one years on him just slid away one nite. sheila was settin up with him and she felt overcome with a sadness so insteada sleepin, which she couldint anyways, she come out ta the barn jus as the sun was comin up. and there was a serprize waitin fer her.

the serprize come frum a donkey name sally who just got here. sally dont say nothin about it but it seme she bin runnin with some bad boys and got in a family way, she just dont tell nobody when the child is suppose ta come. well, it slipped into this world just as ole oliver cat was slidin out. the baby is a strappin big lad and they called him oliver acourse. that boy hit the groun runnin and we all bin tryin to manage him and edjicate him ever since. simon donkey what got the cripple back end was missin his buddy osullivan real bad and he appoint himselve minder to the baby and spen every minite fussin over him like an ole biddy. i take a turn mindin him and let me tell ya, hes a caution. what with chasin cats and sheeps and goats and runnin like a speed demon he make our heads spin. and i gotta run everthin else on top of babysittin.

i bin doin more electrikals with my human frend brian and he say he dont know how he ever got anythin done without me right there glued to his side. hes a nice human but he sighs a whole lot. i dont kno why. an im still givin tours tho sometime comin bak down the hill i git goin pretty good and cant always stop so a few guests haveta step lively to avoid gettin mowed down. they don seem ta mind too much. im sticking ta the ole sayin that with age come privilege.

my frend laurel passed on some piktures took by shari and susan an im puttin them on here fer ya ta see. you mite wanta admire my blak shiny summer cote. i put a lotta work inta growin it and now my winter layer is comin in good so the blak dont show so much. i loss three more teeth so my five squares a day are all what ya call porrige or gruel but i tell ya, i dont feel a day over twenny an that smart alec vitinry gal kno she bin in a fite when she git done doin my dentals. an i got mi bubbel room fer tha winter and mi blankit so i sa bring it on. thats all fer now but i wil reporte back when i got time.

Now Is The Season Of Our Deep Suspicion

Yes. I mean autumn. When the leaves turn all sorts of brilliant shades and waft down from the trees, the grass loses it's ambition to grow and various insects become contemplative as the light and warmth disappears. And of course there are sunny days like these when the voice box in my barn suddenly announces that the first assault by frost will probably occur whilst I slumber this evening. The Woman avows she can see my winter coat growing but I know it still won't be enough to deal with the coming horror. She says I will wear a blanket this year. I say we'll see about that.

In preparation for the coming ssss, ssss, ssss, snow a new door arrived the other day and yesterday an unknown human arrived to install it. We inspected both human and door thoroughly, Molly grunting so loudly in his ear that he jumped a good eight inches off the ground whilst carrying the door. Molly felt that he was interrupting her lunch and carried right on eating as he hammered and sawed away. I supervised from a safe distance.

I have inspected numerous fuzzy tube insects, I believe called caterpillars, and their coats this year appear to be of a medium length. I hope this is an omen of a less abusive winter. The woman brushed against a wasp or hornet-type creature the other day and let out a dreadful shriek when it bit her leg. I don't blame it in the least - I feel the same way about the change of seasons.