is the title of a 1966 crime movie starring James Coburn.
It seems apropos considering the election news. The country has the opportunity to keep the current President employed. Or the populous can fire him and elect another man for the next four years. I'll not share my political ignorance much here. If you're interested I'm sure you can find lots of ignorance elsewhere. The news of the day has the election pretty even. Whatever your allegiance, please be sure to vote. And, whatever 'we the people' decide, it would be advantageous to finally, once and for all, get off the political merry-go-round.
My two cents for doing away with the time change.
Why do they (whomever they are) find it necessary to screw with my well being twice a year? I envy those folks that sail through this change. I'm not one of them. Ya, ya, it's only an hour. So why does it take one hundred sixty eight of them before I'm acclimated to the change?
Spring forward, fall back.
At 10:30 AM yesterday I didn't understand why I was so hungry (I don't eat breakfast). I said, "I don't understand why I'm so hungry." Wanda reminded me it was 'really' 11:30, or was it?
Intellectually, I have no problem with the time change. I look at the clock and know what time it is. I learned how to tell time years ago. Internally, I do have a problem. If I didn't have clocks, and watches, and microwave ovens I would control the clock. I'm hungry or I'm tired would pretty much do it.
Sunday morning around 4:30 Dakota Cat wanted her breakfast. See, she can't tell time. And neither can Casper and neither can Steve. They look forward to early mornings put something good in my food bowl. When you have three cats walking over you, or caterwauling in the hall, it's very hard to sleep. It didn't matter to the animals that the clock said 3:30, remember, they can't tell time.
Please, leave the damn clocks alone. Either standard or daylight savings time, always. It would certainly make my life easier, twice a year.
In the news:
An Indiana woman said abstract paintings created by her horse, Justin, have been selling for $75 to $2,500.
The woman who happens to be a commercial artist, said her 9-year-old horse, Justin, began painting two years ago when she noticed him using her riding whip to draw in the sand.
"It just made sense to tie a brush on the end of the whip, so I did. And to my surprise he kept painting. He kept making those brush strokes."
The paintings have sold for $75 to $2,500 and buyers have contacted her from as far away as Denmark, Austria and Australia.
She said one of the animal's most unique works is a red splotch that resembles a horse.
"And I told everybody about him painting a self portrait, everyone is skeptical and then they see it and say 'It is a horse!"
Do you know the expression, Horse-shit, or horse-crap, or horse-pucky? OK, maybe not horse-pucky. So, the horse, Justin, says to himself, WHIP or paintbrush? WHIP or paintbrush? I know, I'll pick.....paintbrush.
A red splotch.....it's a horse, of course of course. And why not? Mr. Ed could talk.
Please, someone send me the names and address' of the people from Denmark, Austria and Australia. I have a cat who hocks up fur-balls that resemble the Brooklyn Bridge.
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