An altogether efficient maritime resupply on the north lawn...marital bliss, Arizona-style...stay the hell out of Goodyear (unless you need tires)...it's Wednesday!

Here we are, still yet and not soon to be forgotten, another humping Wednesday. I hope everyone is safe and well. The dreaded flu seems to be overrunning this part of the world. We here at the CCB command center understand that a flu shot this year may not protect you from the strain of virus going around. You’re screwed!

Of course, any of you who know me, know that I never take flu shots. Even when I was in the military I managed to avoid them. The shots are a government conspiracy intended to plant a nano-tracking device into your body that allows the jackbooted thugs to find you when they suspend the constitution and declare martial law.

…or words to that effect.

Seriously, I never take a flu shot and probably never will. So stay the hell away from me! All of you! You cootie encrusted creatures.

I was hoping yesterday to have a lengthy conversation with Cousin Fred about his idea for creating a prepper ranch here at The Compound. The royalties checks for Bigfoot: Naked and Untamed have stopped coming in (Viceland decided we were too edgy for them…really?) and I need to find a source of income soon.

Unfortunately, Cousin Fred wasn’t available yesterday. It was replenishment day aboard U-002. I asked what happened to U-001 and got an icy stare. Gigi shed a tear. Guess we don’t talk about U-001.

I approached the entrance tube on the north lawn yesterday to discuss with Cousin Fred our future plans, but he was busy scanning the horizon with binoculars as he sat atop the tube.

I asked what he was looking for and got a response, stupid me. He said that he was scanning for surface targets. He seemed agitated as he continued. He told me that he felt very vulnerable sitting atop the surface, but it was necessary for making their rendezvous with a resupply vessel.  

I was about to walk away, figuring Captain Nemo was too far gone to have any sort of meaningful discussion when suddenly the hairdressing hydrologist Gigi roared onto The Compound in their latest chopped car.

The resupply vessel I presumed.

She came to a stop on the side of the entrance tube away from the Main House. Cousin Fred brought a bullhorn to his mouth and began barking orders that the resupply team would muster on deck. He also announced that there would be no skylarking and to commence resupply.

At that, Gigi began handing up bags of groceries. I noticed there were two entire cases of booze and several boxes of ammo. Guess they’re expecting to do a long patrol.

In the middle of it all, I heard a siren go off behind me from the Main House. Cousin Fred screamed, “Incoming!” just before a bottle broke against the tube. It was the Wife! She was launching yet another barrage against U-002!

I began running for cover. I could hear the Wife cackling from somewhere around the Main House.

Cousin Fred was screaming, “Mach schnell! Mach schnell!” Gigi was heaving bags atop the entrance tube as fast as she could. Finally, the resupply finished. Gigi disappeared down the tube. Cousin Fred took another look around and then shouted through the bullhorn, “Secure from resupply detail. Prepare to dive!”

With that he disappeared down the tube, the hatch closing behind him. Another Old Crow empty smashed against the metal tube. More cackling.

Mission accomplished…I guess. Well, at least the Wife wasn’t firing guns at the entrance tube.

Friends, did you hear the one about the woman out in Goodyear, AZ who, after two days of constant fighting with her husband, finally decided enough was enough?

We don’t know what they were arguing about, but after two days of constant argument, the husband’s bowels were apparently in an uproar. He retired to the bathroom where he seated himself upon his porcelain throne seeking some peace and quiet.

Eh, not so much.

His wife throws open the door and fires two rounds over his head from a pistol.

The husband, who will likely suffer from fecal impaction (actual medical term) for years, jumped up and ran out the door where he called police.

The wife told the cops that she fired 10 feet above his head. The cops measured…it was more like seven inches. She also told the officers that she fired the gun because she wanted her husband to listen to her.

She was arrested and charged with one count of aggravated assault. Ummmmm, shouldn’t that be two counts, one for each bullet?

Let this be a lesson to you all…stay the hell away from Goodyear, AZ!

That is all!

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