Well, my stupid back is finally back to normal and The Incredibly Ridiculously Late Thing can come out of quarantine (I saw a moth. Teh Intarwebs suggests that it's not a clothes or fiber-loving moth, but rather a food-eating moth ((which I also doubt, because all my fuds are stored in containers purchased to repel The Ants Of Death, but whatever)) BUT I'm not taking chances. it's been wrapped up in the freezer for the past several weeks and gone over with a fine toothed comb ((can't wash, otherwise I would.)) and finally ready to be mailed. Ridiculously. Late.
Sometimes my job is a leeeetle inconvenient.
scary back-killing statistics aside. grumblegrumblefreakin'oldtowno-towngrumblegrr. I'd just like to be able to get to the post office....reliably. srsly.
Also, some part of my childhood just went either a) on a totally batshit crazy rampage or b) off to sob in the corner. Why? because there's a campaign to remove the Carl books from libraries.
THE CARL BOOKS. Good Dog Carl, you know? gorgeous illustrations of a wee little bebbie and her guardian rottweiler by Alexandra Day? largely responsible for my early programming towards big puppydogs? best kid's book ever?! (okay, maybe tied with the mouse books. and maurice sendak. and...ok, so there's a lot of 'best kid's book ever'-s. shush.)
because it encourages irresponsible parenting and encourages/indoctrinates young children with dangerous behavior.
(This comic's first panel and this comic are once again pertinent, and as an aside, you should check out the first comic's author's new comic here.)
I shake my head in disbelief. Where are these people getting their drugs, and why aren't they sharing? although, if the drugs are making them go to crazytown I don't think I want them to share.
and finally...just because it never fails to make me smile...