Don’t Pi** on My Leg and Tell Me It’s Raining

In the college town where I spent some of the, urm, more interesting years of my life, there was an old (by that time) doctor of a most eccentric bent. Good sawbones; great “bedside manner” with patients. Nice guy. But… strange sense of humor.

Less weirdly, he raised prize-winning roses and always–always–had a rosebud in his label, in a tiny little vase that was concealed behind the lapel of his coat. He also carried a syringe filled with water to keep the tiny lil vase topped up throughout the day.

One day, I was downtown and ran into Dr. X. We stood talking for a bit on a street corner, waiting for the light change. A woman with a lil “yappy dog” was standing on the other side of him. He gave me w twinkled glance, pulled out his syringe and surreptitiously squirted her on the leg. She kicked the dog, we suppressed our laughter and let her precede us across the street on the light change.

Now, that was funny. But having someone piss on one’s leg for real and say, “Oh, it’s just raining” on a clear blue sky day is worse than insulting. Them thar is fightin’ words, bubba.

I’ll not link to the lying bastards, but the Obama campaign is saying they unequivocally ID all campaign donations, so the huge numbers of donations from foreign sources are legal. This from people who decry voter ID as “racist”.

Liars. Throw the bums out.

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