 Happy Wednesday, people! Lots happening around The Compound. The insurance guy showed up yesterday to look over the burned spot on the north lawn where the Cabinet Saloon replica stood until 10 days ago. He took a look, took another look. Asked if I had a photo of the structure before it burned. He confirmed (for the third time) that this was a replica of an 1890’s saloon, which I confirmed three times. He asked again how it came to be burned down. I responded that law enforcement did it when the effort to summon forth the ghost of Temple Houston got out of hand. He asked if I had any proof the building was built to code. I pointed out that there are no building codes in rural Oklahoma. He declared it (actually wrote it down) a misadventure by law enforcement and handed me a check for $33.38 along with a notice that the company will be raising my premiums on The Compound because I live a risky lifestyle. I responded, “Well, I do have a blog to write and an idiot cousin to support.” At that, said insurance guy drove off in his electric car and after fifteen minutes was out of sight. Sigh. In the meantime, Cousin Fred and Gigi (aka, Boris and Natasha) are living the high life in a “family” restroom in Vnukovo International Airport outside of Moscow. Apparently, they were making their way through the customs hall at Vnukovo when they spotted uniformed Federal Security police waiting just beyond the exit doors leading to the main terminal. Believing that the FSS contingent was there for them, they retreated back inside the customs hall which counts as international territory, aka sanctuary. They’ve taken up residence in the bathroom. Cousin Fred says things aren’t too bad. Their residence gets cleaned twice a day…there is free power…unlimited toilet paper…vending machines are just outside the restroom…and, the Russian people are “real” nice. He asked me to send Russian coins for the vending machine. How I’m supposed to find Russian coins to send is beyond me. And, how do I get them there? Post them Cousin Fred c/o of Family Toilet Vnukovo Airport Moscow? Yeah, that’s not happening. Besides, I’m holed up (literally) in the hidey-hole waiting for the lunatic fringe in NoKo to detonate an EMP weapon at altitude and/or the lunatic fringe in DC to get confused one night and launch a preemptive nuclear strike on the American heartland (“They knew what they signed up for when they moved there. They should have lived in beautiful Manhattan like everyone else.”). Either way, it won’t go down quietly. In the meantime, I’ve got disgraced holy men making threats against me. You may recall a post I did back in May about how the disgraced holy man from the ‘80’s, Jim “Cry for Me” Bakker was making a comeback of sorts by hawking buckets of survivalist foods on late-night television and begging God to smite his critics. He’s back…again. Oh, he’s still selling his freeze-dried opossum stew to preppers who are convinced civilization is about to end (Hmmm…where have I heard that before? Hey, wait a second!). But, now he’s swinging at the “mean people of America” who make fun of him, telling them to stop watching his show. Uh huh, his show which amounts to an infomercial for his apocalyptic survival foods. His advice to those of us who make fun of him is to just go away, stop watching…or else. Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about the little termite until he resurfaced. Now he has fired off a flaming arrow at those of us who make fun of him: “One day, you’re going to shake your fist in God’s face. And you’re going to say, ‘God, why didn’t you warn me?’ And, He’s gonna say, ‘You sat there and you made fun of Jim Bakker all those years. I warned you, but you didn’t listen.’” Of course, that was followed by an option to redeem ourselves in the eyes of this scumbag patron saint of moral turpitude. We just need to buy a full year’s supply of his survivalist bucket foods and all will be forgiven. Dear disgraced holy-man-cum-insect… Thhhpppppppppttttttttttt! That is all! Comments are closed.
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