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Poor old girl


Uncle B called me at work this morning and said, “was there a reason you left Mapp Chicken running loose?”

Ah, no. Before I left, I opened the henhouse door, saw “some chickens” and assumed it was all of them. Poor old Mapp. He said she looked very grateful to scoot into the henhouse with the others. It was bitterly cold this morning and she’s the old girl.

Thus began a silly day. I lost our tax paperwork. I found it again (after one of those painful ‘tearing the place apart’ sessions). I got an email from a long-lost first cousin.

I think I’ll have a gin, a long nap and a do-over tomorrow.

November 30, 2017 — 10:40 pm
Comments: 10

The miracle of bacon


Wednesday afternoon, ’bout a quarter to four
I heard a knocking on my front door.
Run to the door just as fast as I can
Standing in the doorway is the bacon man.

Hallelujah, it’s the Oscar Mayer bacon man.

My neighbors went to the States and brought me the Miracle of Bacon. How they got it back — “in a cooler” they said — eh, it’ll be fine.

They also brought me saltines and paper towels. Truly, I am blessed.

p.s. that’s paint under my fingernails, not filth. Wednesday is Art Day.

November 29, 2017 — 9:54 pm
Comments: 24

And then the vet laughed at his ear hair


Jack got beat up again this weekend. He came in with blood on his legs, but the wounds were small, he wasn’t limping and he didn’t seem distressed. I didn’t think much of it. Boy stuff.

An hour later, he gets up from his nap and drags his broken body across the floor like he’d been run over by a Buick. Which is now what I thought had happened. Internal bleeding, whispers the displaced maternal instinct.

We took him to the vet, who decided it was cat bites (and no internal bleeding), gave him a shot for antibiotic and a shot for pain and then, to add insult to injury, laughed at his ear hair.

To be fair, he is the Ed Asner of ear hair.

There ensued a discussion where I swore I was going to scoop up the neighborhood’s intact tom, Ginge — who has now cost me a lot of money — and get him deballed. The vet thought the owner might object to that, and there followed a discussion of the ownership of cats.

In Rhode Island, I know, you cannot own cats in law. They own themselves. You can own dogs, but not felis. Which suits their sense of self, but means you can kill a cat without legal drama (I have to assume this doesn’t apply to pedigree cats and animal cruelty is still an offense). I used to follow the blog of a cat rescuer who routinely snuck up on unspayed cats and spayed them without telling the owner. Not on the spot, of course.

Anyway, Jack has been an absolute bastard ever since. He won’t go outside, bounces off the walls and beats up Charlotte to make himself feel better. I’m’a buy him a tiny wifebeater for Christmas.

November 28, 2017 — 10:18 pm
Comments: 18

Now, this is getting out of hand…

franken grope

The search term I used on Google images was “franken grope” — I knew that would call the one I wanted up, and it did.

If anyone needs it, I think I kept the exploitable pieces. That is, a cutout of Al that can be plastered to any tits you choose.

November 27, 2017 — 8:22 pm
Comments: 13

Dead Pool 104: It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Xmas

Mitchell takes dick with Charlie Manson. Despite his body count and the way he sucked all the fun out of the late Sixties, I still don’t think of Manson as a monster. A midget ass-clown maybe. A sawed-off ex-con. A mean little fart.

Anyhow, dead. Finally.

Dead Pool trivia: Mitchell won the very first one, back when I mailed people an actual spotted dick.

A reminder that I declared the previous pool for tonycc, who tried to disavow his win because of dodgy timing. You won the thing, tony. Step up and take your dick!

0. Rule Zero (AKA Steve’s Rule): your pick has to be living when picked. Also, nobody whose execution date is circled on the calendar. Also, please don’t kill anybody. Plus (Pupster’s Rule) no picking someone who’s only famous for being the oldest person alive.

1. Pick a celebrity. Any celebrity — though I reserve the right to nix picks I never heard of (I don’t generally follow the Dead Pool threads carefully, so if you’re unsure of your pick, call it to my attention).

2. We start from scratch every time. No matter who you had last time, or who you may have called between rounds, you have to turn up on this very thread and stake your claim.

3. Poaching and other dirty tricks positively encouraged.

4. Your first choice sticks. Don’t just blurt something out, m’kay? Also, make sure you have a correct spelling of your choice somewhere in your comment. These threads get longish and I use search to figure out if we have a winner.

5. It’s up to you to search the thread and make sure your choice is unique. I’m waayyyy too lazy to catch the dupes. Popular picks go fast.

6. The pool stays open until somebody on the list dies. Feel free to jump in any time. Noobs, strangers, drive-bys and one-comment-wonders — all are welcome.

7. If you want your fabulous prize, you have to entrust me with a mailing address. If you’ve won before, send me your address again. I don’t keep good records.

8. The new DeadPool will begin 6pm WBT (Weasel’s Blog Time) the Friday after the last round is concluded.

The winner, if the winner chooses to entrust me with a mailing address, will receive an Official Certificate of Dick Winning and a small original drawing on paper suffused with elephant shit particles. Because I’m fresh out of fairy shit particles.

November 24, 2017 — 6:00 pm
Comments: 81

Happy T’day!


Happy Thanksgiving! Also the ninth anniversary of my permanent move to the UK. (The actual date was the 22nd, I think, but it was Thanksgiving 2008).

Hope you all have a good’un and make complete pigs of yourselves, and don’t forget the MST3K Turkey Day Day Marathon!

Not to mention tomorrow’s new Dead Pool, queued up and ready to go!

November 23, 2017 — 6:00 pm
Comments: 10

Holy krep!


This van appeared in a village near me this week. Nope, not a Photoshop job. There’s this guy who…does this on the back of dirty white vans. Here’s his FaceBook page if you want to see more.

Britain is lousy with white vans. It is the subject of many jokes. So he will never run out of canvas.

One of my earliest impressions of the difference between Britain and America? You know how we write “wash me” in the dirt on the back of a dirty car? I saw a filthy white van here with “also comes in white” written across the back.

November 22, 2017 — 10:03 pm
Comments: 15

My personal bodycount: 3


My mother told me before she died that she was going to come back and haunt me, but she was going to come back as a scrabbling noise in the closet, so I’d never really know if it was her or mice. And, whaddya know, I have a scrabbling noise in the closet.

Well, I’ve finally worked it out: it’s mice. I’ve been bailing them out of the mousetrap as soon as I can set it. The horrible thing is, I haven’t even had to re-bait the trap. Apparently, the smell of Bob’s final agony is not enough to overcome the smell of sweet, sweet peanut butter.

My little studio upstairs is the warmest room in the house, at least when the water heater or central heat is going. That’s because all the water pipes run along the outside of the walls. This attracts all sorts of vermin, not just me.

I hate doing this. There’s the horribleness of emptying the trap (all clean kills so far, at least). But also, I rather like mice. I used to keep them as pets.

Oh, well. At least it’s not my spectral mother!

November 21, 2017 — 7:02 pm
Comments: 34



Welp, he’s gone. History’s most famous case of the Crazy Eye.

Y’all may recall I am (or used to be) muchly into True Crime, but I’ve never had much interest in Manson. He was a petty criminal who had spent more than half his life in prison when he was released in the late Sixties. He looked around at the shit going down and thought, “yeah, I can work with this.”

It’s not even certain whether he ever killed anyone his own self. He surely wasn’t anywhere near the scene of the famous murders. He egged other people on and mugged for the cameras.

A tiny, manipulative clown. And now he’s dead. Shame he lived so long.

And Mitchell has won the Dead Pool!

Good on yer, Mitchell. We shall reassemble here Friday for the next one. Which is good – I’ve got a seminar to go to Friday that includes four hours of car travel. I ain’t going to be fit to post.

November 20, 2017 — 8:13 pm
Comments: 19

There are no turtles in England


I’ve posted about this before. They have tortoises (land shellies) but not turtles (water shellies).

Every once in a while, you hear a horrible story about someone ‘rescuing’ a wild tortoise by dropping it in the nearest pond.

I mention this now because I took a nap after work this afternoon and had a vivid and curiously didactic dream about the difference between turtles and tortoises. Also, because I thought I’d be posting a new Dead Pool this evening, but Chuck Manson seems to be clinging on.

Oh, well. Everyone have a great weekend. Except you, Manson. Because fuck that guy, am I right?

November 17, 2017 — 8:23 pm
Comments: 18