Evil Squirrel’s Nest Comic #129 – 10/16/14

Today I tried to buy something at Rite Aid. I didn’t have (OMG!!) my Rite Aid Wellness card, so the cashier refused to give me the discounts on their overpriced products. I think I got a bit loud. This cartoon reminded me of the incident because the reason they insist on the “wellness card” is so they can use my statistics for data mining!

P.S. I got my discounts.

Evil Squirrel's Nest

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KEY TO WHAT?

Golden Key — You’ve been given a key that can open one building, room, locker, or box to which you don’t normally have access. How do you use it, and why?


A golden key. Solid gold? Can I sell it?

I can’t think of any place on the real earth I want to go that I cannot access. If it’s the key to memory, I’ll skip it thanks. I remember quite enough.

golden key

Key to a vault? A vault full of money? Whose money? I’m sure it isn’t mine, so I’m not clear on what good it would do me. Are you suggesting I start a life of crime?

At my age? I don’t think I have the nerves for it. I’m pretty sure I never did. Besides, my luck being what it is, I’d be the one person to be given “a golden key”, go grab a few goodies … and the FBI will be waiting when I exit the vault with my ill (but easily gotten) gains. The very definition of easy-come-easy-go.

Tell you what. I’ll keep the key as a memento. Put it on a golden chain (maybe I can find a nice one on sale) and wear it in remembrance.

I’ll think of it as my blogging prize, okay?

THE UNTOUCHABLES ARE UNMATCHABLE

Garry is devoted to old television series, amongst them “The Untouchables.” Starring Robert Stack as Elliott Ness.

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Dum-de-dum-dum. The FBI enforcing … (ta-da) The Volstead Act. Prohibition!

What a great show. When the cops are annoyed with you, they beat the living crap out of you. If that doesn’t get you to spill your guts, they’ll toss you off the train. While it’s moving.

You have a problem with that? You too are disposable.

Nothing namby-pamby about these guys. They don’t even pretend you have rights. You know you are dirt under their feet. They treat you accordingly. Like dirt under their feet.

This is a show that never made the slightest apology for being racist or pretended to have any interest in fairness, truth or justice. Violent and single-minded, they pursued people who broke a stupid law: a law against selling booze.

Compassion and restraint were for sissies. Nor were these guys overly worried much about legalities. They said “We are the FBI. You will obey!”

And everyone did. This is the FBI at its purest. Not just above the law. They are the law.

Elliot Ness Real GuyMy favorite moment in tonight’s show was when the boys, ignoring even a nod to national borders, take the FBI bus into Mexico to track down the guys who kidnapped their witness. “The bus broke down three times and the trip took 10 hours,” said the stentorian voice of the narrator.

“So what?” I said to Garry. “We live in the country. That could describe my last trip to the grocery store.”

I love television. Especially 1950s crime shows.

WATER BIRDS AT LACKEY DAM

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I haven’t seen any swans around here at all in months. The local ponds, rivers, waterfalls were all  dry, with their muddy bottoms showing.

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Kaity tells me she’s seen a lot of swans, but not in the usual places. I assume they went to deeper water. Before the rain started in October, you could walk across Whitin’s Pond.

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The ponds are full again. Full of water, full of ducks. I’ve never seen so many ducks. And today, down by Lackey Dam, one swan … and a lot of ducks. The leaves around the pond are dark red to bronze and so, by reflection, is the water.

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A fine day for waterfowl.

THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER

 

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I have always felt kind of sorry for the oysters. Silly little shellfish, so foolishly trusting.

“The Walrus and the Carpenter” is a narrative poem by Lewis Carroll. It appears in Through the Looking-Glass, (1871). The poem is recited in chapter 4, by Tweedledum and Tweedledee, to Alice.

Meltdown

Lloyd speaks for many of us. Certainly speaks for me.

Lloyd Lofthouse

I do not know when it started,
The religious meltdown
Where I lost my faith
And my family blew away with the wind.

Maybe it started after the death of our family gatherings.
Where grandfathers, grandmothers, fathers, mothers, uncles, aunts, sisters, brothers and cousins
Drove hundreds of miles to sit around the sagging
Table with turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy
Along with pies:
Pecan, pumpkin, apple, mincemeat
And my dad’s favorite, a moist lemon cake
With snowy powdered sugar dusting the top.

On Thanksgiving, my dad and brother-in-law
Competed to see who could eat the most
As football games on TV filled my sister’s house with screaming fans.

It could have been after we stopped celebrating Christmas.
When I was ten and Mike was five,
We huddled behind the closed hallway door along with his younger sisters
Waiting for Santa to leave so we could rush the tree and rip…

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