RealName is a yap-dog. Who's s/he talkie about with such furious heat? A dog with a hot lap-dog is dangerous. Gads.

I think some crank-cases need over-hauled. Maybe they sit at Starbucks sipping a 3-hour, whipped cream masachio, while dripping ketchup, mustard, and fire-spit of dry red-relish...pure untamed anger, or something.

The lap-top hacker, maybe, who knows anything, may be too full of lapped-up, green-sticky relish. It's hard to act good or courteous if a soft hearted heart, gets hard and unhappy? I am not sure. I hate to get to close to them for fear they may spit grime-red-hot, relish, in my eyeball? Unsafer.

Respect to all the sophistics and those who eat dare eat a hardtops....Who cares? Just take some Pepito Bozo.

NO-Realism, wants to hop on the hot-seat that masaccio left behind at Dunkin doe-Nut's?

Why do the so-called, rt-Wing RWA's, keep growling day and night? What's wrong? worms.

It's pitifuller if you ever watched how sad it is to see a mutt scoot across a gravel driveway? Itch? You bet. Damn fire-fudge lake bloggers, 'um-'letter' yack's there too, like here! 'um hack-cough phlegm all the time. lap-top taste like yuck!

And Detail-detail sounds a wee-bit arrogant-hubris, imo. There's a re-Read and always a Tomorrow, and a day away to feel more understanding?

Mr. Jones, I know a youthful 'idealist' who did an apprentice-ship, while doing a forensic crime sociological college course. On the very first day-ride, on a Saturday morn with the likable State Patrol officer, a young man, with a loose-dog in the car (obvious distraction), ran headfirst into another tractor-trailer and died. Neither the pet-dog or the young driver wore safety seat belts. I was 'just thinking' if it means a person who never forgets to wear the seat-belt, BUCKLE UP, is the most emotionally-intelligent hacker on the high-school "hairy' judge Know all, see all, hear Notin'...DEBATE TEAM?

It's some days enough to experiences routine 'stuff' like fate, or is 'it' we are prone humans doing some stupin 'providential' "bunches" or ignorant things. War?

Just so we learn. "Live and let learn?" or maybe NOT all the time. Yes, buckle up. But it doesn't measure one's IQ. ook at the neocon movement. huh.

What Ambidextrous @ 6:46 mentioned, it sure-really, pirced my sore heart in a good way. Thanks.

To Ben Dover @ 8:31: My dead Uncle Don worked for the FBI during Hoover until retirement. Whenever former FBI Uncle Don and I talked through the years, Uncle Don made each, both our four-eyes, total-together, mist up. I loved him and miss him. He said the American People know zilch about what goes on...We agreed.

OT/On-Topic: A pencil sketch I love to admire is of an elder women with a huge smile on her face. She holds a wet sweeping floor mop in her precious veined frail two hands. Serious.

The caricature of the author here too, makes me smile. The light-hearted presentation of truth's...can save 'us' from 'Dada' yucky anguish sense of angst despair.

It has taken me 58-years, or has it been 58,000 years or even longer, to be able to tune into the "bad" news, but, told in these damn "hoodlum" Salon mannerisms.

A bit of wee-tiny sweet cream upon a bitter-pill, coated with honey--- I think, sometimes, is a doc's ordered, a Yes.

Or I'd be locked up in a jail-cell, with no cell phone, in Madagascar, or hopefully, in my wood shop.

Okay, I know a liberal beekeeper WHO did a very stupid thing. Serious. He use to let me use his honey-extraction house. THEN: one Spring a few years ago, after a nice rainfall like today, some wet grass clogged his mower. Yea, a smart beekeeper did WHAT! Raised the lawn-mower to pull wet green lawn grass from the sharp propellers... Guess what was stupid?

The unclogged grass got unclogged. Loose. But, all 8-fingers got chopped off, immediately. Honest. Two thumbs on a beekeeping, working with one-eighth spacing, don't go together. Honest.

His name is Haven. Honest. I call him "two-thumb-dumb." WHAT a stupid thing do do, right? Haven agrees. He use to talk about the mountain dark TULIP POPLAR honey-flow when a 8-supper high-chambers, stacked on 32-FEMALE colonies in my apiary...WOW!

"I don't believe it!" Yes. It's true.

Also: "Anger will get sweet as honeycomb" said Athena, from her honey-sweet lips....Honest. Play tennis on a rainy day or search for morel "toad" stools? gads. Trouble.

Then:

I walk away from here and see fleecy silver clouds with blue backdrop and those optimistic grey-sky silver-linings. No lie. It's evergreen country time. Good calming colorful is the color green. I water in a greenhouse. Then: I see a beautifuler red cardinal bird sit perched in a purple lilac bush, that's blooming.

I come here and get a tinge of that hoary wrinkle no-Fair, a in all honesty...SAY, is a yuck...

...running wildly 'round and 'round the blueberry bush, is cream-color blossoms, which, are being attacked by black bumble bee pollinators. Buzz. A dance of those cute harmless bumble bees again. A sudden chill comes when I am reminded to get in touch, again, with the State government's planed to spray poison that kills ladybugs, spores, moss, and humanity.

Whirl-bird helicopters are scheduled to spray dead, every life form? Wow. What lame brain's dead con-ravens are ruining the planet. If we don't STOP the neocon-mob, the every former cottage where Life once was....stands No more...only death.

O, never noticed how bad I spell, misplace a come {,} now and then--- an old letter of love to a hoodlum gang at the wild-west version of a Sam Adam's Ale Saloon, yipee.

WHAT a fresh H2-o water hole. What partner's we are, gals/guy's, and thinking too much....(?) (*) NO. or Yes, or what! huh. ~~*~~!

We been sitting on a river bank all day.