Sunday, November 29, 2015

I'm Glad This Didn't Happen In My Territory!

SAYS HERE that a study conducted by the British Nutrition Foundation found that about 1 in 5 kids in the UK believe that fish fingers are...made from the fingers of fish.  

That sort of finding betrays a deep, profound IGNORANCE about us.  AND THEY LIVE ON A FREAKING ISLAND!  For crying out loud, when you think of England practically the first association anyone makes is their predilection for eating FRIED FISH.  Which some of them also apparently believe is made from CHICKEN.  

The other findings are almost as disturbing.  They don't know which animals lamb and pork come from.  They think cheese is some sort of plant product.  I hardly dare THINK what they believe about beer.  

I never thought I'd be thankful for the minute, hairsplitting attention Americans pay to their food, ESPECIALLY the question of where it comes from and what it really is.  They want to know the "sourcing" and provenance of every scrap.  They scatter like bowling pins, then mount a bloody protest if some human DNA shows up in the soy sausage, or if they even SUSPECT that the fish fingers in the frozen-food aisle might be HYBRID FRANKENFISH instead of PURE BREEDS.  

Poor Getruuid!  The teaching hours she and her recruits are going to have to catch up on now to educate these Brits...

Gert, my advice is this:  especially with the young'uns, all you have to do is remind them that "if you eat any more of that fish you're going to tun into one!"

Saturday, November 28, 2015

It's Getting To Be That Time Of Year Again...

...And I just want to remind all you new recruits that THE BEST SQUIDMAS EVER is coming to a percentage of you, THIS VERY YEAR.

And for the rest of you?  HELP IS ON THE WAY.  If not this year, then VERY SOON.

I HARDLY NEED TO REMIND YOU LADIES that one of the ongoing aggravations of being a primate, especially a Homo sap.,  is that danged HAIR on your head.  It seems THE STRUGGLE NEVER ENDS as long as you have it.

If it's red, you want to be a brunette. If it's brunette, you wish it were blonde.  If it's straight, you want  it to be curly -- and vice-versa.  Soft hair lacks BODY.  Strong hair is too WIRY.  Fine hair is too THIN.  Dry-haired Homo saps. wish for something a bit OILIER, and those with OILY hair pray nightly to whatever God they worship to DRY IT OUT. 

Long or short, it never really looks right. Choosing a new hair stylist is like taking your sanity and your future in your hands. Scrod help you if you try out a new style that flattens your cheekbones or makes your double chin look like a triple.  Growing it out after making a hair mistake is -- by species-wide consensus -- HELL ON EARTH. 

Even if you finally get it to look the way you want it, your husband HATES it.  Or your friends whisper behind your back.  Or, even if everyone LOVES it, the hair keeps flying up your nose in the slightest breeze, or TANGLING WITH YOUR EYELASHES.

No matter what your hair looks like, you feel like the models above...Outwardly, or in the deepest recesses of your id.  Because of your wretched HAIR.  In a way, men have it even worse, because:

See, it's part of the ongoing disaster of even belonging to that species.  ALL YOU WANT IS NICE HAIR.  You want it more than money, or healthy children, or a long life.  If you don't have it, your hair gets in the way of everything else, somehow.  Women feel as if their lives are a joke until they get their hair right -- AND IT NEVER HAPPENS.  And men with their hair falling out?  For those guys, somehow, IT'S ALL OVER.  It's hard to say which half of the species tortures itself more over hair problems, the MALE or the FEMALE.  Body perms!  Relaxers!  Curling irons!  Crimping irons!  Hot rollers!  Daily conditioners!  Deep treatments!  Detanglers!  Tints!  Tones!  Shades!  Transplants!  Wigs!  Weaves!  Electrolysis!  Even the individual specimens who have learned to laugh at the whole mess do THIS when you mention a promising new hair tip: 

It's as if they were being offered a taste from the Holy Grail.

Well, here are CLIFFIE'S GOOD TIDINGS FOR SQUIDMAS.  HELP IS ON THE WAY.  Even if your transformation is just starting, IT'S JUST A MATTER OF TIME before you are FREE FOREVER.

And once that last strand falls into your soup, there's really only one step left to go:

Yeah, baby!  You're home free!  And THAT, ladies, will be the best Squidmas ever!

Ask your aunt Tilly if she feels ugly going hairless: 


Sunday, November 15, 2015

Arabian Peninsula Flooded Out -- The Season's Starting Early, Ladies!

A pretty severe cyclone almost wiped a number of Arab communities off the DRY MAP and into OUR territory after 25 years' worth of rain fell there in a matter of days.  The news is good, for US at least:  those wanting to get away from the constant Homo sap. conflict and find a better way to live have been SHOWN THE WAY OUT.  All WE have to do is sit back and wait for the new recruits to arrive.  

Maybe we should bake them a cake?

Let's Go Over It Again...

This question keeps RESURFACING in my mailbox.  By "mailbox," I mean the one at the post office, the one on the front porch, and the electronic one, and the question is always this:  WHY DON'T WE GET TO ATTEND CHURCH OPENLY?

On the surface, this ought to make sense. America is the land of religious freedom.  Our North American Conspiracy Zone HQ is in Michigan, at the site of the largest supply of fresh water -- and freshwater devotees, sportsmen, dwellers, paddlers, advocates, waders, fishermen, and recruits -- ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD.

>> Doesn't it make sense to openly set up recruiting posts under the banner of religious freedom?

>> Wouldn't we bring in EXACTLY the sort of people we are looking for?

>> Wouldn't it bring in a TON of money from the memorabilia and tourism sales ALONE?

>> Wouldn't it be great for a laugh even if the project failed entirely?  WHICH IT WOULDN'T?

All of this is TRUE.  The fact remains that we SIMPLY CAN'T AFFORD THE EXPOSURE.

I wish we could make it work, myself.  It WOULD be great for a laugh.