![]() Yea! It’s Friday everybody! Woot! Eh, who cares, am I right? Lately, all the days seem to meld together in a toxic soup of demands on my time, money and talents for one cause or another. Or, am I whining too much? Then, I’ve also come to discover that the more The Trump assures the American people that everything we see going on around is an illusion created by a “disgusting” media, the weirder everything gets. I can’t tell who is telling the truth anymore. KnowhutImean? I can tell you that the Cabinet Saloon re-replication is beginning to take shape out on the North Lawn thanks to some experienced hands from that weird gator head cult from Florida that have spent time camping here at The Compound in the past. The gator cultists here this time are all experienced builders. They’re whipping the P.O.J.O.C. boys into shape. Cousin Fred tells me that we should have the shell of the building done by Monday morning. Friends, when was the last time you were out riding a bicycle at midnight only to have a flat tire and go knocking on the door of the nearest house seeking help? I’m betting that’s never happened to you. Because, particularly around here, knocking on someone’s door at midnight to whine about a flat on your bike will most likely get you shot. Or, at a minimum, here at The Compound have the Wife hurl an Old Crow empty at your head. AND, beyond that, riding a bicycle around here at night will get you run over by the savage teens who like to race up and down the county roads out here late night while swilling low-point beer and talking big. That’s why we here at CCB have been puzzling over a report we first heard on Channel 4 wherein some dude (we’ll call him Midnight Rider) in Tennessee did just what we described though he wasn’t shot – he turned it into a mini-vacation. A busman’s holiday, if you will. It seems that Midnight Rider was tooling around the neighborhood at midnight when his bicycle developed a flat tire. As it turns out, his residence was only a half-mile away, but details like that elude Midnight Rider who feels compelled (for whatever reason) to knock on the door of the house nearest him. No one answered said door, so Midnight Rider let himself inside. Again, a great way to get shot at night, but again that sort of risk eludes Midnight Rider. While inside, no doubt searching for a bicycle tire repair kit and an air pump to inflate the tire after it was patched, Midnight Rider discovers beer and food in the refrigerator. Bet, he told himself, it would be easier to find that repair kit once he had a bite to eat and several beers. After eating the food and drinking the beer, what else do you do in the wee hours of the morning? Take a nap of course. Police said he did just that on the homeowner’s couch. If this is beginning to sound more like a Goldilocks and the Three Bears adventure, wait…there’s more. After finishing his nap, he sat up on the couch and cracked another beer. It was then that he noticed he was giving off a certain amount of funk. Time for a shower! And, for goodness sakes why stop at a shower? His clothes no doubt had an equally funky funk thing going on, so he even availed himself of the washing machine. But, there’s not a working dryer in the house (darned hillbilly homeowner) so he was forced to hang his clothes on the back porch to dry as the sun begins to light the horizon. About 8 o’clock or so that morning, the homeowner comes home after working a night shift somewhere to find Midnight Rider standing in her house with nothing on save for a sheet wrapped around his waist. What’s a tired homeowner to do when she finds a half-naked man standing in her house at 8 in the morning? She calls the cops. They arrest Midnight Rider for aggravated burglary (probably the beers). On the back porch they find his bicycle, a helmet (good thing too otherwise the cops would ticket him for biking without a helmet), and his still-wet clothes. What have we learned here? Try this, LOCK YOUR G-D DOORS! That is all! Comments are closed.
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