The Natives Are Restless. . .

While the savages in Ferguson and elsewhere demonstrate why ordinary folks hold them in contempt, I’m once again glad I live in America’s Third World County™, where there may be violence from time to time, but usually limited to one-on-one (and at least one of the participants was askin’ for it). There’s quite a bit of gunfire, but it’s usually limited to the range, the deer (or other game) woods, and occasionally shots fired at someone who’s askin’ for it (trespassing, attempted burglary/robbery–usually out in the country where it’s REALLY stupid to try, cos if the 00 shot doesn’t get you, the landowner’s dogs will).

It’s nice to live somewhere with the virtues of civilization and few(er) of its vices.

Keep it in the X-ring, folks!

In the Very Best of Hands

Because my Wonder Woman is a pubschool librarian, she gets all kinds of catalogs from all over. One that hit the circular file pretty quickly was for products for sale to state and other public employees and organizations from the state correctional department. (By state law, only public employees and organizations can buy products made by state-owned slave labor.)

The catalog’s cover boldly states

“If Your [sic] Looking For Hot Deals. . . “

At all levels, local, state, national, our governments are in the very best of hands. . .