Afishionados,
Afishionado Andrew has, a great personal risk, kindly sent this along. Was this how Barbaro really died? Is it all just one big conspiracy? It looks like a black, government sedan… What do you think?
You “animal rights” people claim
That my death was a terrible shame
But I’d rather be dead
Than cooped up in a shed
And be forced to run circles for fame.
So relax, for it could have been worse
Like The Godfather scene so perverse
My head in a bed
In a pool of bloodshed
(Or worse yet, a cheap leather purse!)
The fact of the matter, you see
Is that running makes me want to pee
I’d much rather rot
Than set off in trot
With some little fucking jockey.
So fans of mine, please, no remorse!
I’ve just become “One with the Force”
I like being glue
So I bid you adieu
FOR CHRIST’S SAKE I’M JUST A DAMN HORSE!
Afishionados,
I don’t know what’s happening with me today, but I have been awake and sick since 6:00 A.M. with dry heaves and other fun, bodily mishaps. I feel okay other than the hurling from one end and, well… some other nasty feature at the other.
I’m so thirsty that I think I’d even drink water from the pool at this point, but I can’t keep anything down. Water, 7-Up, oatmeal… Nothin’. It all comes back to visit me again (and again, and again).
It even takes all my energy to type this out. Wish I could keep something down, I would LOVE an iced tea. Hopefully that presidential nominee Polanski’s health care plan will help me in the future.
Time for another nap,
JediMacFan
Afishionados,
Good news for the War on Feather. Herbie and I have been road trippin’ for the past couple days, driving from Seattle to Ohio. Armed with bottled water and the radio, we made our way east posthaste. (Also, as it turns out, Volkswagen New Beetles, when released back into the open wild, are capable of speeds of 113 MPH through Utah.)
As loyal readers of Old Fish and Lemonade know, all birds are out to kill me. Which is why I am happy to report that, while traveling through Nebraska, Iowa, or some other pointless plains state (I can’t remember), Herbie was attacked by a bird. And won.
While cruising at a comfortable 85 MPH, a small, gray bird flew in front of the car, and LANDED on the road, DIRECTLY in line with the front passenger tire. (Ironically, this is the same tire that killed the raccoon.) Well, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that:
1.) I hate birds
and
2.) It’s impossible to stop immediately from speeds in excess of 5 MPH
So, as you can imagine, the bird lost. After a rather delightful sounding “THWAP”, I looked in the rearview mirror and looked upon a cloud of feathers. It looked like someone had thrown a pillow into a fan. Awesome. One less of their minions to shit on my car. Justice!
Afishionados,
It’s been all over the news that Barbaro the horse has died today. My local news channel reported that a fund has been set up in the horse’s honor and has already raised over a million dollars. Apparently, proceeds will go to help other horses or animals with their animal problems.
Fans and past sexual partners of Barbaro also sent emails to the horse (before it died, of course) wishing it “good luck” and better health. Unfortunately (and obviously) in the end, these emails did little good for two reasons:
1.) Horses can’t read email.
2.) The damn thing died anyway.
Is this really newsworthy? Why did I have to hear about Barbaro for 10 minutes?
It’s just a goddam horse.
I spent the evening with some friends last night over at their place. We had a wild and crazy night of Scrabble. I know what you’re thinking. I should slow down this fast paced insane life I lead because it’s going to kill me someday. Scrabble is the gateway drug of board games. If I’m not careful, I could find myself playing Yahtzee next week.
These friends of ours have a bird of some sort. I’m only familiar with one type of bird, and that’s the one that I fly freely to other drivers along the roads here in South Carolina. So I couldn’t tell you if it’s a parakeet or a parrot or a dodo. I know it’s green and yellow.
I was attempting to help our friends with their iPod when their bird landed on my right shoulder.
Now this is probably a good place to tell you that I’m not a fan of birds. They find great pleasure in squirting their liquid shit all over my car all the time and I don’t much appreciate it. You don’t see me climbing trees and taking a shit in their nests, so I don’t understand why they can’t work with me. But I digress…
So as I was saying: This bird lands on my right shoulder. And it’s huge*. It’s a beast, a real monster. Ginormous. In fact, looking back, it wasn’t even a bird. It was a Pterodactyl. A BIG Pterodactyl. With fangs and everything.
I could see it out of the corner of my eye. And it could see me. I froze, because that’s what wimpy creatures do in the wild before they realize their imminent death by a predator.
Then this bird starts walking closer to my head and neck. And then I got really scared because now I have this gargantuan beast heading for my throat. Oh my god, I thought, it’s a vampire, too!
Then, of course, the vicious beast attacked me. It tried to eat my face off. My life flashed before my eyes when I felt the bird’s fangs sink into my lower lip. All twelve of them (fangs, not lips). And after the fangs came the searing pain of the rest of its razor-sharp teeth.
Hannibal the bird then flew off to eat half my jaw with some fava beans and chianiti. It laughed to itself and proceeded with a triumphant and sinister squawk. It figured me for dead, but I managed to escape the pirhana pigeon with my life intact.
I still hate birds.
It’s really the size of a mouse. But a big mouse. Say what you will, but you would have been mortified, too. But it really did bite my lower lip. Fucker.
