If, in a a pinch, you find yourself snowed in without either a snow shovel or the on-hand scratch to pay the two thirteen-year-old neighbor kids to do the heavy lifting for you (aside to “Billy” and “Zach”: if you’re going to start a business in today’s market, you really need to accept major credit cards), a conspiratorial look followed by the whispered offer of a stick of vanilla incense, 5 rolling papers, and a little baggy filled with oregano (be sure to call it “shit”) ought to get the little rubes digging like they were on the cusp of finding buried treasure—especially if you insist that “this here bag of Chronic is so fine it’s guaranteed to make your little punk balls drop.”
Then, let them explain to their parents why they smell like they’ve just rolled around in a pan of pizza. Because the way I see it, I’ve taught them a valuable life lesson. And shoveling a sidewalk, a driveway, a back patio, and de-icing four sets of windows is really a small price to pay for that kind of real-world wisdom.
In fact, when you stop to think about it, I’m practically a hero. FOR THE CHILDREN!
Thanks for standing up for the children. God bless you, Jeff.
I have a hero of that sort…
– If they brought their own hardware, fine. If not, be sure they don’t take your shovel with them. I even had one enterprising neighbor kid ask me if I had a snow blower. I told him to be content with the Chronic, and stay away from blo. have to be always vigilent, looking out for the little ones. Why’ I don’t do snow anymore.
– BTW, banning is holding and open invite barbecue. Looks like we’re in for another delightful winter burnoff. Been about the right length of time. The Cal weeds are up to the roof eaves.
It’s that sort of American patriotism, that commitment to one’s community that makes this the glorious nation that it is.
As a proud American, I salute you, sir!
So, where’s the real shit?
Define practically.
Did the yard monkeys ask for some sort of payment beyond official US currency?
Has anyone told you you’re like Nero?
I think I know which house is getting egged on Halloween night…
I met a hero like that in New Orleans in my youth. I don’t think it was oregano though. Probably rat droppings. He did say it was real shit. Caveat emptor.
When I was offered a deal like that I took it. And turned around and sold the baggie to a stoner in my junior-high class at a 200% markup.
If it was oregano, he never said anything to me about it.
You’d better hope little Billy and Zach do stumble onto something that really will mellow their harsh. Otherwise lay in a double-extra supply of house paint and grass seed. Oh, and get ready for the biannual Replacing of the Mailbox Ceremony.
I’d recommend starting with a metal pole and a large concrete footing. Replacing the box itself is easier than having to put in a whole new post too.
Don’t use wood. It’ll rot at the base and next thing you know some guy pulls up to the curb and doesn’t even notice his side mirror snapped it off with barely a scratch to the car.
And from what I remember driving by the next day, it looks like a pain to replace too.
Mailbox? We have one of those crappy mailbox stations.
I hate it.
But as for the yard…well, I have managed to partially domesticate a coyote that wandered up to my door one night. All it took was some London Broil and the neighbor’s cat. Scares the hell out of the people in the HOA.
But me and the coyote? FRIENDS FOR LIFE!
I had a roommate who made his way selling ~98% fake weed that was really convincing. This was back before average potheads started pretending to jargony connoisseurship (which change coincided eerily with the rise of Phishâ€â€*sociology study alert*), and the fake part smelled more pot-like when burned than the (shitty) real part did, so he never got outed. Got hilariously enthusiastic repeat business, in fact. Because hippies are idiots.
I never got his recipe, but I know there was no oregano in it. He bought a lot of tea in orange tins shaped like the Washington Monument.
And he was an obsessive chaser after paralyzed girls. No idea where he found so many, but it seemed like every weekend on my way out I’d pass him carrying a different one up the stairs to his Peter Max-wallpapered boot-smelly love-cave.
(I don’t think that’s a non sequitur.)
Has the coyote tried the fake weed yet? (cauz nothin’ says fetal position hilarity like a sailin’, psychotic coyote running through the neighborhood wreaking havoc on pets and small children.)
Um…might want to keep the tyke indoors for a while…
Giving drugs to kids is not funny.
(There, was that a convincing impersonation of monkyboy, or what?)
“Hey! … This bag is full of SHIT!”
“But it’s really great shit!”
— Firesign Theatre
SB morning26
For the children? Really? Next thing you’ll be telling us that you bought Pelosi’s gavel on eBay.
Not quite. Try this:
hehe
The party of moral values giving some smoke to little kids. Next thing you know they might be IMing teenage pages sexually explicit messages.
How’s that?
Now to imitate david:
You’re all a bunch of partisan assholes!!!
Thank you…thank you…please remember to tip your waitresses…
DON’T DO IT, JEFF! THERE ARE SOME DARK POWERS THAT MAN WAS NOT MEANT TO POSSESS!!!!! TOSS IT INTO THE PIT OF FIRE!!!
Now I’m feeling guilty for not telling you to get a snow shovel.
While you’re at it, you might want to pick up some snowshoes, too. Nothing sucks worse than being completely snowed in and not being able to get to the store for diaper rash cream. Or whatever essential item you forgot to pick up – diaper rash cream just comes to mind because that’s what we ran out of in that monster storm a few years ago that had snow up past the roof of my husband’s Eclipse*. Some friends of ours ended up having to toilet train their son during that storm because they ran out of diapers the first night.
Speaking of which, does anyone have any idea what happens to a convertible if it snows enough to cover the roof? My husband traded in his hardtop for a convertible, I’m wondering how emergent it is for us to clear space in the garage for it.
I guess that karma shit goes out the window when the wife needs to get out of the driveway.
You’re learning, Grasshopper.
When I was younger, I shovelled the snow myself. Neighborhood kids were nowhere to be found when you really needed them – weekdays, 6:30 a.m. when the snow was waist deep. They didn’t work for minimum wage, or anything I could afford to pay either.
The oregano trick only works once, and they know where you live…
Now older and wiser, I have a snow blower.
It’s not like my son is going to shovel snow for me. He might have a heart attack or something…
Building your snowman over the fire hydrant can surprise the neighborhood hooligans.
That image made me black out at the keyboard. Next thing, you’re going to trot out Helen Thomas in a black teddy. Stop, stop! I beg you!
I think a good fake grass mix has a little loose chamomile in it, but I could be wrong. And dried spinach…?
BJ: Those were pretty good. Sure you’re not a troll?
faux gras?
Aw, come on now, ahem. Could a troll have written this? (inspired by McGehee.)
Sniff that gavel. Does it smell like oregano?
Faux News, dinger.
Ah, shit, I just can’t think like the average troll. Makes my brain hurt.
BJ, you’re going to have to do it, I guess.
BJ – I agree – that monky one was waaay too close.
Dingers ate my baby! (After they suggested I not abort it, when it was a fetus).
OK, Jim, let’s do actus
Is that anything like Faux News? Maybe the dead geese remind you of the civilians of a certain middle east country? Chopped up body parts would be appropriate.
My CD “The Best of Troll Farts” will be out in time for the holiday season.
Major: “Who knows what lurks in the hearts of men…”
Actus:
– Could it be a mailbox would seem less important to the homeless on the streets of Denver, or does owning one make you feel superior?
(….Ewwww….*cough*….you’re right BJ….I feel so dirty)
monkey:
“Up til’ the time that Japan bombed London, Americans were smart enough to stay out of the war. FDR was a great Socialist. Just remember all those WPA prgrams he used to help the less fortunate, right in the middle of a time of high prosperity”
(Now I’ll need reading comprehension therupy)
OOOOOOOO, good one BBH. Now clean the vomit off of your shirt.
Let’s do david, now:
Why are you idiots still talking about mailboxes? Why haven’t you called a CPA, Lawyer or at least a good handyman or midwife. There is no there there ere-go there won’t be any there there anytime soon, so there. Figure out how ignorant you all are on this topic, partisan assholes!
Funny, I’m starting to get a rash…
Now contemplate this: Is it possible that I am all four identities?
BWAAAAAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
And speaking of good advice for new homeowners, here’s some – don’t let Hezbollah make any unscheduled home improvements.
Geez, that is some scary shit. Those guys are bastards.
Whatever happened to giving the kids your old copies of JUGS or Penthouse? Oh yeah thats right, the sexual predator thing…….Great to see you post Jeff, keep it coming…Please?
– Jeff, go with the cover. Use one of the new Drug-Me-Elmo’s instead of easily detected baggies.
SWMNBN will probably report you to the police over this.
I can’t afford bail, but I’ll bake you a cake with a file in it, buddy.
From Dan’s link:
emphasis mine
Talk about some cognative dissonance of epic proportions! If it ain’t common waste, it’s murder ladies, you can’t have it both ways.
Jeff,
Everyone knows that it is simple impossible to domesticate a coyote without wearing a <a href=”http://www.birkoph.com/Wolf_tshirt.htm” target=”_blank”>Wolf Shirt</a>” I think you should add your accomplishment to the long list of testimonials.
Here are some examples:
George W. Bush says…
I wouldn’t be such a shitty president if I had some damn wolf shirts.
reese says…
When people see you in this shirt they know your SERIOUS. They dont fuck around.
Robert E. Lee says…
I got destroyed by Grant because he was wearing a wolf shirt. …
teh win says…
Excellent roaming shirt out in the dessert. Gets you great reception for your cell phone as well.
I have always suspected that you own many wolf shirts.
edit link.
Wolf Shirt
BJ, BBH, be careful and make sure your brains don’t get stuck like that.