sweasel.com

TPTB may want you baffled and crazy, @Stoaty, but we don’t!! Please pay less attention to all that crap and pay more attention to logical things that make more sense, such as chicken behavior and seasonal changes to women’s fashion color palettes.

My favorite Obama/Brit moment was when the Queen was giving him a tour and said, “You’ll like this room, it has lots of mirrors.”
I bet he had no idea she’d called him a narcissistic tool.

I will try to query the Lizard Overlords.
But don’t hold your breath.
They are notoriously … well, notorious.

Being as tightly tuned into “Russian Propaganda” as the dog eater is, he probably heard HRH had passed away and, being as smart as he is, went to your PM to see if he could humbly (or course) be appointed by the PM to fill the job as King of England (I’m assuming he knows as much about the British Government as he knows about American law and the Constitution…)

He’s used to running things with a pen and a phone and a hand puppet named Joe, he’d probably like to see if a crown would make him even more awesome.

Seriously though, Uncle Al is right.

Well, he IS specially qualified to be Mayor of London…. If citizenship is a requirement, I’m confident he can produce any necessary documentation.

Some Veg 😉

Ah, bet he’s there on Joey’s behalf to make sure England doesn’t supply artillery and tank ammo to Israel when we cut them off.

While this is not really on topic, it’s not really off topic, either. I’m reading The Fly on the Wall by Tony Hillerman. Some may know Hillerman by his Joe Leaphorn and Jim Chee books steeped in Navajo culture, but this book predates all of that.

But the subject of this book is not relevant to my comment. I simply ran across the following paragraph and, of course, thought of my friends here. I hope it makes you smile the way it did for me.

He was suddenly aware that something had moved. Upstream a weasel had come out onto a partly burned log which had fallen into the stream. It stared intently into the water, looking for an unwary trout. Cotton noticed its fur was turning white. In a month, when the summer fur was shed, it would be an ermine worth twenty dollars to a trapper. He sat motionless, thinking the animal would vanish if he moved. But then it looked directly at him, curious but not afraid. It occurred to Cotton that the weasel was undisputed lord of the rocky slope behind him and the small wilderness of marsh grass. It had never met anything it couldn’t whip. The same had been true of the badger he had seen downstream earlier. It had sat on the cliff above its hole and whistled at him while he fished — a derisive, disrespectful challenge.

Who’s next in line if Chucky is an ex-parrot and Kate can’t be found?