Ray's Precipitation Update

All righty then. The CB guage collected about 1.4" of rain, lately. So that gets us up to 18.9" for 2006 of the Julian. Plus, tomorrow, the Crumby Ovate, my bosom companion, may get to come back into the house, terminating his terrible stint in the Wilderness. That's good, because I won't have to monitor him half the time he's out in the Wilderness which means I won't be out in the Wilderness, with him.

Crumby's turned cranky and that makes him difficult to monitor. He's cranky because his ears are better and he can hear again. Praise the Goddess, Lleu Llaw has borne the brunt of Crumby's crankiness. That is because Llew Llaw monitors Crumby nocturnally, mostly. However, the weather lately has not allowed Crumby to pursue telescope tomfoolery so he has taken all that aggravation out on Lleu Llaw, mostly, nocturnally.

So I'm generally rooting that Red will let Crumby back in the house. But that's not a sure thing. Crumby can be dangerous for a moon or two after his birthday. We shall see, anon, what Red decides.

Boy howdy. I liked to hyperventilate myself today. Did you know that standing on a bucket in the cold rain with the wind blowing precipitously while operating on an empty stomach with a big juicy wad of snuff betwixt yer cheek and gum, while yer simultaneously attempting this or that chore can cause you to hyperventilate? I didn't know that. Maybe I was hyperthermiating.

On the happy side, a couple of slices of hot buttered toast fixed me right on up.

Ray.

Uh oh. It's my sister hollering. What is it, Rayetta?

Go get Crumby.

It's not my turn to monitor Crumby, Rayetta. It's Lleu Llaw's turn. We have a schedule.

I didn't say monitor him, Ray, I said, go get him. And have him assembled on the back porch by midnight. Red wishes to examine him. Do you undertand all that, Ray?

But it's cold out Rayetta and I was just fixing to go to the Ample Bosoms.

Ray!

All righty then. Jeez Louise. I'm going ahead on. Mercy!

So Ray must bundle up and head on out into the frigid, stygian darkness. Then Ray must round up his bosom companion wandering practically all alone in the terrible savage Wilderness. After that, Ray must lure the cranky, potentially dangerous Ovate to the back porch. Mercy! Not many would assay such an adventure on such short notice. But not everyone is a Sun God Trainee, either.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Painted Lady (Vanessa cardui)

Here it is, the last day of November of the Julian, the wind is supersonic, the wind chill is epic. And what do I find hunkered down, thermoregulating in the leaf litter of the formerly cultivated area? A new butterfly for the month at the CB, that's what! How about that? It is a largish butterfly and on this day, tame. So that's 1- - 1 on the Rayetta scales. In fact, this painted lady may be not merely tame, but dead. However, it looked alive to me.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Yep. The Norther Arrived

Yep. And with it came some rain. Later, if the fickle Ogma actually rises, I shall ascertain from the guage, how much rain. The wind is cold and vigorously blows, for the nonce, so that we shall enjoy a day or two of cool temperatures and I won't have to fret about chafing myself from werkin' in the sun. Freed from that fret, I shall, no doubt, have more time to think about something besides chafing myself.

I wonder what Our Kinglet had for breakfast in the Hashamite Kingdom. Maybe he had some hash, or even hashbrowns. Which reminds me that Hope is undergoing considerable hardship keeping up with Our globetrotting Kinglet. Maybe Hope has a delayed report on the Kinglet's antics that will include the important specifics of his breakfast feast with the chief miserable Iraqi. Maybe they enjoyed boiled goat eyeballs in curds. Maybe the breakfast room area was heavily scented with the famous perfumes of those parts. Ray wants to know!!!!

Rayetta's Butterflies - Laviana White-Skipper (Heliopetes laviana)

That's more like it Ray. A nice reality spell on the Kinglet's foreign policy.

But today's November of the Julian butterfly is this one. It's a medium sized butterfly, but toward the small end of medium, and semi-tame. So on the Rayetta scale, that makes it a 2- - 2. That Salvia it's feeding at is not native to these parts. It's a Mexican salvia. I don't remember which one it is. When we first got it, them, those salvias, we thought it was ballotiflora. But they're not that.

Ray's Thought for the Day - More Abstruse Weather

Here it is, nigh onto December of the Julian, and I am fretting over chafing myself due to the heat out yonder, a werkin' in the sun. Today, it showered a tad, but not sufficient to up the yearly total, stuck on 17.5".

Tomorrow, a great norther shall blow through late, maybe. Here's hoping some rain shall precede its passage.

Whoa! As everyone with a lick of sense knows, our Kinglet is a worthless piece of shit; a pampered candy ass selected to be Kinglet by the Homeland ruling class, itself a product of a collapsed gene pool and our failure to get a grip on inheritance. So now Our Kinglet will blame the poor old miserable Iraqi whatsit for the failure of His whatsit policy, in miserable Iraq. But don't worry Trickle Downers. We still have genocide as a hole card. And what better bunch to genocide than a bunch of miserable Iraqis?

But hark! If we procedurally genocide the miserable Iraqis, who shall roustabout the rigs. No problemo, dudes and dudettes. There's plenty of surplus rig roustabouters that may be induced to relocate to a depopulated miserable Iraq. Mercy! There shall be plenty of milk and honey for those immigrant roustabouts. Watch out for the Wickerman!!!!

Rayetta's Butterflies - Cloudless Sulphur (Phoebis sennae)

See! I told you, more than four. This is a big one, and extra nervous. That's 1 - 3 on the Rayetta scales.

Meantime, my knucklehead brother goes off and espies a white peacock (Anartia japtrophe). Does he get a picture? Course not!

Let it be known that the Loveley Druidess Rayetta is not so complacent about the Kinglet's antics as my brother apparently is, complacent. Now that the Kinglet is out of the country, it's a good time to pull his passport. Let that ignoramus stay in Latvia or Jordan, or better yet, the miserable Iraq colony. Yep. Stick his sorry ass in Iraq.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Global Goofy

Our ignoramus Kinglet has taken to the world stage, traipsing hither and yon, sharing his opinions, everywhere. As the foremost certified spokesperson/booster for the US Mammonite religious sect and Trickle Down subsect, the Kinglet has, yea verily, gone on a Mission, to convert the heathen everywhere to his way of, er, thinking. In fact, the Kinglet's whole family is apparently gone on a Mission too, to diverse foreign parts.

Don't be fearful. Since the Land has rejected the Kinglet, the Kinglet must Mission elsewhere to share his opinions. It's a natural, though embarrassing, process. Several natural processes are embarrassing if performed out in front of the Goddess and everybody. That's why, in the Homeland, private comfort stations are so popular.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Sleepy Orange (Abaeis nicippe)

OK. This is sulphur number four. There are more. This one's 2+ - 3. Meaning it's big for a medium sized butterfly, and nervous. The photgraph is touched up to emphasize the identifying characters.

Hmmm. I see my brother has alluded to a butterfly he may have observed today. That's unusual.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Chingadera

I am weary from werkin’ in the sun. Yet I did see an interesting butterfly, while werkin’ in the sun. Yep. My sister has me stirred up over butterflies so now I’m noticing them. But alas, I can remember only that it was a large butterfly with some spots. I believe the base color was brown, or tan, and the spots were darker than brown. But I can’t very well go to Rayetta with such a pitiful description. Nay, I must find that butterfly again, tomorrow, and perhaps take its picture.

The brutal hot weather with no rain continues. Oh well, we had a little shower this morning, but nothing in the guage. Looks like there will be a paucity of flowers again this spring. Mercy! I got to get a watering schedule started. Taht way maybe, the Wicker Man will be put off by the flowers and skip the CB. And, yet another dry norther is fixing to blow in. Mercy!

Rayetta's Butterflies - Lyside Sulphur (Krigonia lyside)

Hmmm. The pickings are growing slim when it comes to November butterflies at the CB. Now, I'm pretty much down to sulphurs, skippers and maybe a hairstreak. Hmmm. And the grass skippers are, well, mostly brown. Nevertheless, I shall persevere as best I may. On the sunny side, I finally spelled sulphur, instead of sulfur.

Today's butterfly is 1- - 3, fairly big and nervous. It's another one of the yellow ones. Now I suspect we have maybe seven different species of yellow ones at the CB, not merely four. However, we do not have pictures of all of them because they are very nervous and cryptic to boot. Yes they are.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Fatal Metalmark (Calephelis nemesis)

This interesting little butterfly is direly named from a single incident. One of the "if it flies, it dies" boys tumbled into a depression and killed himself from attempting to apprehend one of these little metalmarks. Hence the names, both vulgar and Latin are dire. The fatal metalmark is 3 - 1 on the Rayetta scales, little and tame.

Here's another shot.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Progress in the Miserable Iraqi Colony

Yepper. The Kinglet’s population control program (pcp) is making good progress in the miserable Iraqi colony. In just a few years, if we don’t quit, most of the troublesome, miserable Iraqis will have quit on their own, and the survivors will be a tractable group, yearning for the trickle down, maybe.

Now that US is committed to colonies and pcp, just like that other great world power, Rome, I foretell that satirists shall draw many interesting parallels between US and Rome. Actually, Crumby came up with that foretelling, but he’s still out in the Wilderness so I am doing the foretelling as his intermediary. In fact, I must depart anon to relieve Lleu Llaw and resume monitoring my bosom companion, Crumby. Lleu Llaw and I have a monitoring schedule. But prior to all that I must strap on the lead boots and seek for my delicious cinnamon bun.

Meantime, Chitlin is visiting with his pal, King Abdomen the Stout. What do Chitlin and King Abdomen the Stout have in common? Easy that, they’re both super-duper gluttons.

The Druids sometimes list three categories of gluttons. These categories are: gluttons, super gluttons and super-duper gluttons. The advantage of this list and its three categories is that the rank and accomplishments of any particular glutton is intuitively obvious.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Orange Skipperling (Copaeodes aurantiaca)

This cute little item is a common one at the CB, a little and tame butterfly, 3 - 1 on the Rayetta scales.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Stage 3

That's correct. The Cow Barn is languishing under Stage 3 Water Use Restrictions which means we can't water hardly at all. And all the little seedlings are hollering, Water me, I'm dying of thirst. The rainfall total for the year remains stuck at 17.5 inches.

Yet the Chambers of Commerce in these parts, in cahoots with the politicians continue to haul in busloads of immigrants, metaphorically speaking, and not a one of those immigrants brings along its own water. Yep, the Mammonite land brokers, undismayed, continue with their evil work of turning these parts into a barren desert. Watch out for the Wicker Man!!!!

Yet our seedlings need some water.

Well, our seedlings are gonna get watered.

Crumby’s Telescope Tomfoolery Notes - submitted by Lleu Llaw Guffes, Lion of the Steady Hand

True it is that my wicked behavior of past iterations has merited considerable payback from the Glorious White Goddess. These days, I find myself humbled, a former Prince of the Cymry, now a mere servant to the Crumby Ovate, at his beck and call, at his step and fetch it. For a brief respite while Crumby was banished into the Wilderness, I got some relief, but now I am saddled with him yet again. Mercy!

Briefly, I shall spell some of these tribulations that befell me this grim night. Oh yes. The Lovely Druidess Rayetta requires that if Crumby wants anything, I must tote it out from the house. One of the many items Crumby desired was an alarm clock, an old fashioned mechanical one. Crumby has the habit of sleeping at unusual intervals so that his rest upon the Ample Bosoms coincides with celestial non events. So this morning, the alarm of the clock awoke me at 3 AM, followed hard upon by commentary from my master.

Arise Lleu Llaw, my faithful servant, for you are restored to me here in this terrible wilderness and I deem you are some fine company fer me, indeed, so that you need to efficaciously set up the great red tube expeditiously. Move it out yonder under the eave so that the dew that is ever potential may not afflict it, but not so far under that the eave obscures our visage in the direction of the star that some call Alphard, but others call Alpha Hydra.

Eventually, I got the great red tube set to the requirements of the excited ovate.

Now, Lleu Llaw, get a fire going and make me some coffee and then after that, adjust the great red tube as guided by your Steady Hand so that a view of the star Alphard is centered within the confines of the great red tube for my perusal.

After all that was accomplished the ovate took a gander at Alphard and I hoped that was it and I could go back to sleep. But that was not, it.

Now, Lleu Llaw, we must espy Mu Hydra also. It is a star of similar orange color too Alphard and located somewhere down below Alphard so you must needs also find that one, fer me.

Alas, you may not believe it, but there are a great many orange stars beneath Alphard so that my search for Alphard impinged upon the patience of the excited Ovate.

Lleu Llaw, you must venture forth into the house and therein go to the laboratory and produce a star map centered on Alphard. Do so with alacrity for Ogma is fixing to betray me yet again. If you don’t know how to do the map, wake Ray up and get him to do it. If Ray won’t to do it, threaten to tell Rayetta on him.

Off I journeyed to the house and to the laboratory. Fortunately, I was able to accomplish the map making task myself. Anon, I returned into the cold, dark wilderness toting along the requested star map.

This map's backwards, pronounced the excited ovate upon my return. Go on back and make a new map and make sure the Constellation Leo is included and situated to the left of Alphard. Don’t screw up again, Lleu Llaw, for the fickle Ogma is fixing to betray me.

Yet again I traversed the cold darkness, wary as ever, alert to avoid the manure that so often afflicts my footgear in these circumstances. Anon, I returned to the Ovate, map in hand, and this one, Praise the Goddess, met his specifications so that after much endeavor I was able to determine that Upsilon Hydra was not Mu Hydra. One has to use Leo’s noggin for the triangulation and star hop. Yet I now realize that Upsilon and Mu were naked eye visible on this morning, barely, and aided by averted vision.

Then once I had found Mu for Crumby, he excitedly surveyed that star and its environs. Hark, he hollered, there it is. I espy the Ghost of Jupiter! I espy the Ghost of Jupiter! Jupiter! Jupiter! I espy the Ghost of Jupiter! Jupiter! Jupiter! I espy the Ghost of Jupiter! Etc!

By then, according to Crumby’s alarm clock, the time was 5 AM. Crumby kept me busy for another half hour, fetching forth this or that eyepiece to aid in his perusal of Jupiter’s Ghost. Mercy!

All righty then, Lleu Llaw. I am happy to conclude the mornings observations. Now I shall turn again to the Ample Bosoms. And you, Lleu Llaw, may do so likewise, once the gear is all stowed away.

Mercy!!!!

Rayetta's Butterflies - Gulf Fritillary (Agraulis vanillae)

Hmmm. Just when! The heretofore elusive gulf fritillary is ovapositing today. I have noticed that butterflies are easier to sneak up on when they’re ovapositing, maybe. At any rate I was able to get close enough to take some pictures. These pictures indicate some of the activities in the busy schedule of a gulf fritillary at the CB.
Visiting a sad lingering blossom of Malviscus aroboreus.

Resting from ovapositing amid the Passiflora foetida. That may be a Photinia serrulata seedling it’s near. I need to have one of the boys pull that seedling up. The silly doves eat the Photinia seeds and then shit them out at the CB. We can’t have that.

Resting on the Calyptocarpus, Ruellia and Stenotaphrum.


Uh oh. Here comes Red. Time for the water works. Boo-hoo-hoo. Sob! Waaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Mercy, baby girl. Whut’s the matter? Whut are ye crying fer?

Sob. You know why Red. You won’t let Crumby in. And the yellow butterflies aren’t cooperating. They’re too nervous and won’t let me sneak up on them. Boo-hoo-hoo.

Now now, Rayetta. Crumby is out in the wilderness for his own good. Then too, without my approval, I now espy that you have arranged for Ray and Lleu Llaw to camp out there in the wilderness with him. And I let Lleu Llaw take out the Great Red Tube. Crumby has plenty of company and lots to keep him entertained. If he survives, I may let him come back in on his birthday.

Yep. That’s all swell Red, but meantime I can’t do my butterflies. But I could maybe do them better if I had a telephoto lens for the camera. Raymone says I can get a telephoto lens for the camera. If I had a telephoto lens, Raymone wouldn’t need to sneak up so close to the nervous yellow butterflies. Also, if and when Crumby ever gets back into the house and organizes a butterfly library, he will have better quality photos to key out. Boo-hoo-hoo.

All righty then. Mercy. If you promise to cease pestering me about Crumby, you can get yerself a telephoto lens. But ye can’t have more than, er, say, fifty dollars, fer it. If it’s more than that, ye must come up with the rest of it yerself. Times are hard, Rayetta.

I can get a telephoto lens, Red?

Yepper.

Thanks Red. Bye.

Bye Rayetta.

Hmmm. I’m making progress

Rayetta's Butterflies - Variegated Fritillary (Euptoieta claudia)

This particular fritillary is rather tame, 1- and rather large, also 1-. So it's a 1- - 1- butterfly on the Rayetta scales. The two pictures show the top and the bottom. They may not indicate the same individual butterfly, perhaps. The other fritiallary we have here at the CB, the gulf fritillary, has proven elusive in its butterfly iteration, but has left a great many caterpillars around.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Theona checkerspot (Chlosyne theona)

Continuing with the November butterflies at the CB we have this one. It's a 2-2 butterfly, medium, sized and semi-tame.

Here is an interesting ventral wing view.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Where's My PlayStation?

The excitement generated by the new PlayStation is more proof that all US Homelanders, age six and above, should be equipped with fully automatic weapons. US needs to cut through the red tape and get everybody better armed before the next major geegaw release.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Little Yellow (Pyrisitia lisa)

Shoot! Just when I was getting into these butterflies they have practically all disappeared. Yep. Yet another dry norther blew through today and cleared most of them out. Shoot! Oh well. The seasons come and go. They'll be back, maybe.

OK. Here's some more methodology. The only butterflies that get their pictures taken are butterflies at the CB. The pictures have to be good enough to identify the butterfly to species. Since none of us except Crumby know anything about butterflies, this process may be problematic until I can get Crumby out of the Wilderness and back in the house.

So with that, here's another butterfly, one of the yellow ones. It's a 3 - -3, meaning it's litte and nervous, but slightly less nervous that most of the yellow ones. Maybe, it was cold and the cold neutralized some of its nervousness. Do you understand all that?

Anyway, these yellow ones are confusing and don't like to have their pictures taken. Nevertheless we appear to have four different species of them at the CB, at least four. Crumby, once he gets back in the house, may be able to figure out what the other ones are.

Crumby in the Wilderness - Delirium

Yep. Soon I shall shuffle off this mortal coil, maybe, and the WG will do what’s best, fer me. No more standing in long lines to get commodities for my poor old kin folk. Who shall cue up for their butter and cheese now?

Off I shall go to make good progress elsewhere, maybe. Ha! That milkmaid’s boy friend shall trouble this world no longer either. For he has preceded the Crumby Ovate to his just rewards, that Mammonite scum.

Crumby, wake up Crumby.

Ah ha! This must be the WG now, come to summon Her faithful Druid.

Crumby, wake up, I have your supply sack.

Yes, I espy that Your Majesty, beautiful White Goddess that you are, wants me to have plenty of supplies to take along on my new iteration.

Crumby. Wake up.

The Lovely Druidess Rayetta, noting that Crumby is wide-eyed, but dreaming, shakes Crumby to rouse him. But to no avail.

WG, you look just like Rayetta. Somehow I had pictured You as somewhat paler than Rayetta and naughtier.

Crumby it is me, Rayetta. I have some apricot pies and some ear medicine for you. Crumby, wake up! Darn it. Yikes!!!! What’s that head doing here? Crumby wake up this instant and explain where you got that head. That looks like one of the neighbor’s heads. Mercy! Ray, come here Ray. Crumby’s got someone’s head in here.

Whoa! I guess he’s been head-hunting. Not to worry though. Olwen can haul it off. Reckon what he did with the rest of it?

Who knows? Ray, help me wake him up. He’s delirious.

All righty then. Sit him up and I’ll shove some fried pie in his mouth. That ought to do it.

Rayetta hauls the recumbent ovate to a sitting position. Ray breaks off a piece of fried pie. Then seizing Crumby by the jowls Ray forces the delicious morsel into Crumby's mouth which is open anyway because Crumby is discussing his eminent trip to Etain’s fairly land with the WG. The apricot fried pie brings Crumby around.

Ray, my bosom companion, I know you. Have you perished also?

Noper. Crumby you are here in the shed in the Wilderness, eating fried pie and I am here with you, my bosom companion.

What?

He can’t hear you Ray. His ears are stopped up.

What? I know you too. You are Rayetta and here I am in the Wilderness still. Can I have some more pie?

First we have to doctor your ears, Crumby. Then you can have some more pie.

All righty then.

So Rayetta and Ray doctor Crumby’s ears so that he can hear somewhat. Then while Crumby dines upon apricot fried pies, the Lovely Druidess explains to Crumby that she is fixing to get him back in the house, but that the head doesn’t help matters.

Ray and Lleu Llaw are going to stay with you Crumby, out here in the Wilderness, to make sure you take your ear medicine and don’t get into any mischief. Do you understand all that?

Yepper. I shall be glad for my bosom companion and my servant to await with me the arrival of the WG.

Crumby, nobody dies from ear aches!

Maybe, but I am not nobody, Rayetta, and I could be the very first mere mortal to pass from this plane of this sphere, spirited off by the cruel torments of an ear ache. Isn’t that so, Ray?

Maybe Crumby. We’ll see. Meantime we need to get you presentable. Lleu Llaw and me are fixing to get you all cleaned up. You get fresh undears and all. Won’t that make you feel better? Here, have another pie.

Thanks Ray. These pies are delicious. Yepper Ray. I could use a change of undears, all righty then. Mmmmm.

The Lovely Druidess draws her Sun God Trainee brother aside.

Ray, when Lleu Llaw gets here with the ablution accouterments, get him cleaned up. And don’t let him out of your sight until further notice. Also, Olwen has to haul that head off somewhere. And have Lomo scout the property to see if he can find the rest of it, whatever went around under that ghastly head. Olwen may need to haul the rest of it off, too. Do you understand all that, Ray?

Yepper.

Ray, it’s very important that we keep Crumby up to snuff until we can get him back in the house. Do you understand?

Yepper.

Good. Now I have some other important work to do. So you take care of Crumby until I can bring Red around to my way of thinking regarding the Crumby Ovate. OK?

Check.
______

Later, after Crumby is all cleaned up and has some fresh undears and some fresh, vermin free hides, he reflects on a perceived inequity.

Lleu Llaw, Lion of the Steady Hand, you should bring out the Great Red Tube that is in the house. For I have been assessing nightly many of the naked celestial bodies, but greatly wished for more aperture. And now that you must keep me company until Rayetta gets me back in the house, you may as well guide the Great Red Tube, fer me, also.

We’ll see Crumby. I’ll ask Red if it’s OK for you to have a bunch of equipment.

All righty then, Lleu Llaw. Ask Red. Certainly, more aperture should help out on M 79. Now I need to take a nap.

Sleep tight, Crumby.

Don’t ferget to ask Red.

I won’t.

Ask him before it gets dark.

OK.

Don’t forget.

All righty then.

Snore.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Reakirt's blue (Echinargus isola)

Goodness! This gal has been doing some hard traveling. She's a 3 - 1 butterfly, little and tame.
Wings up.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Cinnamon Bun Nostalgia

Yesterday, my cinnamon bun was delicious. And now, I look forward to next Saturday when I shall have another one, Goddess Willing. How many of those cinnamon buns have I devoured? More than one, 50. But less than two, 50s. That's a great many cinnamon buns for one person to consider in terms of personal consumption. Too many even for me to consider.

When you start enumerating all the different items you have guzzled up over the course of time, you can startle yourself. How many taters have I wolfed up? How many catfish? Mercy! What if they all came back to visit me all at once? Mercy!

Now the Homeland holiday, Thanksgiving, is upcoming. It's my very favorite Homeland holiday, largely because all I am obliged to buy or scare up is, groceries. Plus, I really like that particular supper. Turkey with cornbread dressing, giblet gravy, sweet potatoes, regular potatoes, green beans, salad greens, yeasty white bread rolls, canned cranberry sauce, all topped off with lemon merinque pie. Praise the Goddess and All the Wonders, Big and Little!!!! Go figure how I rate all that. I particularly like the canned cranberry sauce that has some whole cranberries scattered around in it.

Being omnivorous by nature in this iteration I shall undoubtedly, Goddess Willing, consume generous portions of all the bounty proferred during that upcoming delicious supper. But I shall also reflect, ironically, on all the work and lives it took to feed me. Mercy!

The Druid News Service (DNS) - Newsy News - Hope Remains in Vietnam

The Kinglet has descended upon the inscrutable East, Vietnam specifically, with only his ability to read facial expressions and body language to help him understand all these inscrutable Asians. Land sakes!!!!

This is Ms. Hope Remains, Ace Reporter for the DNS, motoring along at supersonic speed, safely ensconced in the Kinglet’s motorcade. I have utilized secret Druidic Transformation Powers to appear as one of the Kinglet’s bodyguards, so that’s how I got included in the motorcade. The Kinglet’s vehicle is just ahead. I can just espy his noggin sticking up. These cool Secret Service sunglasses allow me to see through tinted glass. How about that!

Anyway, what’s going on in the Kinglet’s noggin. Let me see if I can use secret Druidic Mind Reading to look inside the Kinglet’s noggin. Hmmm. It’s like the insides of a walnut in here, all shell and no meat. Goodness gracious sakes alive!!!! The Kinglet is using his powers of reading facial expressions and body language to learn what the Vietnamese are up to. Goodness! Whatever is the Kinglet discerning?

Uh, uh, there some of these Vietnamese are, gawking at me. Some of them are pretending they don’t know it’s me, the famous Kinglet. These Asians think they’re inscrutable. But I can tell from their facial expressions and body language how much they love free market capitalism and trickle down. If I just stay the course here in Vietnam, eventually, the global corporations can get this place up and running. Uh, uh, the trickle down shall flow like milk and honey and the next time I come here, the Vietnamese Chamber of Commerce will, uh, uh, gimme a medal, heh, heh. Driver! Find me a Methodist Church. I need to drive past a church. Uh, uh, freedom of religion will allow me to ask Jesus if we need to divide this place up again for management purposes, heh, heh.

Goodness gracious! How about that? The Kinglet figured all that out without even getting out of his limo. No wonder he’s the Kinglet! Astonishing!!!! All righty then. This is Ms. Hope Remains, Ace Reporter, signing off for the DNS in Vietnam. Let’s see, I may need to relax and listen to some music. Here we go, Country Joe and the Fish.

“Well come on all of you big strong men, ...........”

Rayetta's Butterflies - Common Mestre (Mestra amyone)

Hmmm. This one has a nice outfit. Nice fall colors. But it didn't stay long, so I must surmise it is nervous. Yep. 2 - 3. Medium sized and nervous. By the way, in general, the cooler the weather, the less nervous the butterfly. However, the really nervous ones are still, nervous.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Southern Dogface

Jeez Louise! I don't have time to check out these synonomies. Red! Let Crumby back in the house this instant.

No. He's too dangerous, Rayetta.

He's not dangerous Red. He's conked out most of the time. He's in a pitiable condition and totally deaf in one ear.

Too bad, but he can't be let in, Rayetta.

Darn it, Red. You let him in right now. I've had it. Look. We can lock him up in the laboratory. Ray and Lleu Llaw can take turns guarding him. I'll take full responsibility.

No. Crumby stays out in the Wilderness 'til I say he can come back in the house. That's final.

All righty then, Red. But you're really pissing me off with your obstinence referencing Crumby. Just wait and see. One of these days you'll need a big favor from me, the Lovely Druidess Rayetta, and I foretell, that you won't get any favors from me, until you let Crumby back in.

Don't get impertinent with me, young lady.

Let Crumby in, Red.

No.

All righty then, bye Red.

Bye.

Jeez Louise, butterfly synonmy. They could be just like the Cactaceae for all I know. I mean like I really give a hoot. Anyway, we'll just use the vulgar name for this one, southern dogface. It's 1- - 1 meaning it's large, but toward the small end of large, and nervous. All the yellow ones are nervous except that very little one that's mostly white and fuzzy. Little, mostly white and fuzzy, great!

Crumby in the Wilderness - Last Testament

This time I may be a goner, fer sure. Goddess, I am at your disposal. Whatever, is OK by me. However, if you keep me alert somewhere, I would certainly like to be put in a better body, long term. This one has too many afflictions. But whatever suits Your Majesty. I did the best I could with this one, maybe, and if You need me to persevere with it, I shall.

I thank Ye Goddess for all the interesting stuff I got to intersect with in this iteration. I was happily entertained much of my time here and I will try to focus on being happily entertained rather than on aggravations as I pass on to wherever or nowhere.

OK. I'm not asking for anything, but I would really like to go to a nice faerie land that has lots of species diversity included and dark skies and my dead dog, Barney. That kind of place would suit me very much, especially if I had a better body. The one where Etain stays would be a very nice one, or one of the other faerie lands similar to Etain's faerie land would be a top notch habitat, fer me.

Or maybe, if I don't get to stay in Etain's faerie land, maybe I could just visit for a minute or two, before Ye waft me off elsewhere or nowhere, whichever.
That would be nice if I could be somewhere pretty during a potentially significant time of transition.

All righty then. I'm feeling better, less pained and more optimistic now. Praise the Goddess!!!!

Ray's Thought for the Day - First Frost

Sometime this morning occurred first frost. The blossoms and the butterflies are thinned out as a consequence. Mercy. No rain and cold are hard on the little wonders in these parts. Yea verily, my bosom companion suffers along with the little wonders out in the Wilderness. I need to slip a treat in Crumby's supply sack. He likes apricot fried pies.

Meantime our ignoramus Kinglet has gone off to Vietnam. Odd timing for that considering his ignoramus focus on the Domino Theory. But hark, back here in the Homeland, Kinglet wannabe McCain has decided we all need some common sense conservatism, as opposed to the compassionate variety espoused by the current Kinglet. Whoa! Common sense conservatism? That must be the common sense shared by McCain and who else? Who else shares McCain's common sense? Not me, so by definition, whatever McCain is moaning over, is not common sense.

The conservatives have run US for a good many years now, and it's clear that the apt adjective for conservatism is parasitic, as in, parasitic conservatism. Yep, they're just ticks, sucking the planet dry.

And just look at them now, post election. Disavowing their own actions. Mercy, Jesus got more cover from his disciples than the Kinglet is getting from his compassionate conservative buddies. Oooooh! The Kinglet's not a real conservative. Ooooooh! We didn't really believe we should loot the treasury. Ooooooh! We aren't really colonialists. Oooooh!

Jeez Louise, what a bunch of candy asses!

Homeland conservatism can be summed up in two words, trickle down: a bunch of gluttons owning and controlling the whole planet and everyone else awaiting the trickle down.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Bordered Patch (Chlosyne lacinia)

Which butterfly to consider today? That's my question. Hmmm. Well now. Hmmm. Okie Dokie. This one. It's a 2-2 butterfly, medium sized and semi-tame.

Crumby in the Wilderness

Here I am, completely concealed by the enfolding stygian darkness with only my good for 10,000 years flashlight for company. Let’s see what’s left in the supply and treat sack. Er, here’s what I got left, 4 cans of evaporated milk, a peppermint, and a Krispy cracker or two. Mmmm. Those Krispy crackers sure are tasty.

You know, the reason I have so much milk left over in the supply sack is because a milk maid is leaving me some milk in a clog every morning. So off I go in wren disguise and drink up all that milk. It’s awfully nice of that particular milkmaid to leave milk out, fer me.

But enough of all this mere food foolishness. Tonight, the wind has stopped blowing, the dust has settled somewhat and the skies are clear, so there may be some Tomfoolery afoot, anon. I may espy M36, M37 and M38, or, maybe not.

Yepper, the Democrats need to remember that I took the trouble to vote for them, everyone of them I could vote for, and no other political stinkers, because their main opposition, the Mammonite Republicans are liars and gluttons to a person. It would be nice if US got them before the Wicker Man gets them. After all, US has laws for criminals. US might ought to follow the law. Do ye think?

Today, I visited fer a spell with a Regulus calendula just returned from up north. Mercy. What a perilous long journey she undertook, only to arrive in these parts. So I showed her the milk clog.

Yikes! I feel like I may be working up to an ovation anon. First privation, then ovation. But for now, since it's dark I have the opportunity to gaze off eastwards at the many naked celestial bodies spread out for my perusal across the firmament. So I'll do that. M 37 is easy to find if you use Nu, Tau and Upsilon as a pointer.
Then I lucked out on M 36, just traingulating between Beta and Theta with the Rigel. M 38 was also easy becasue all those little stars nearby were naked eye plus spectacles visual tonight. Then as a bonus I hopped down to the Twinks and looked
M 35 over. Boy howdy, when the skies darken just a little it sure helps a feller find this or that.

However, by 12:15 AM the temperature dropped to 36 and was headed south rapidly. We're gonna get first frost this morning, anon. And I got cold so I had to crawl into my vermin infested hides. The frost ought to slow those vermin down, maybe. Mercy, espy all those stars. I can almost imagine the Milky Way.

Rayetta's Butterlies - Ubiquitous Snout

This one has been all over the CB of late. It's a 2- - 1 butterfly, meaning it's medium sized, but at the low end of the medium range and tame.

Hmmm. There's Red. Red you simply have to let Crumby back in the house. I don't have time to do all Crumby's work and mine too. Besides, he's dying out there in the wilderness. And everyone is complaining about having to truck supplies and treats out to the wilderness just so Crumby can stay camped out.

Too bad Rayetta. He's too dangerous to come in the house. Plus, he's not dying. I'd be the first to know if he was dying, and he's not dying. He's like Suibne, and that's just what I want Crumby to experience, a little privation. Besides, Crumby likes to suffer.

But Red, what if Crumby is enticed by some milkmaid and goes to his doom just like Suibne?

That's why you need to keep him supplied, Rayetta. So he don't wander off so far that a milkmaid enchants him with offers of free milk and gets him.

Darn it! Well Red, don't say I didn't warn you. Bye.

Bye Rayetta.

Jeez Louise! Hmmm. Let's see. Oh yes. The Ubiquitous Snout is actually referred to by the vulgar as the Snout Butterfly or (Libytheanna bachmannii). It's favorite food in these parts seems to be (Eupatorium incarnatum). However, the ubiquitous snout shown, is enjoying (Eupatorium greggii).

Ray's Thought for the Day - Three Dry Northers

That's been the weather lately in these parts. One day it's in the 90s. Next day its' cool and the wind is blowing 40 mph, kicking up dust. Next day it's 38. Plus, it never rains. So I'm reminding potential immigrants to these parts, bring your own water. You'll need some of that water you're toting in to pour on the dust.

My sister has suddenly become interested in the diurnal Lepidoptera. We have had a plethora of the diurnal Lepidoptera at the CB lately and Rayetta is curious by nature. Hence, she is tasking us to assess the diurnal Lepidoptera, even going so far as to intercede with Red, so that Crumby may be let back in the house. Rayetta feels that Crumby needs to set up a diurnal Lepidoptera library. Also, Crumby actually knows some butterfly anatomical characteristics and has been known to key out specimens. Rayetta wants to see if Crumby can key specimens from photographs.

Meantime, all of us are weary of toting out supplies and treats to the Ovate. He's hard to find out in the wilderness and since he's deaf, he's also very dangerous. He thinks everyone is sneaking up on him.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Funeral Skipper

Hmmm. Actually, the common name may be funereal dusky wing (Erynnis funeralis). But it is a skipper, so maybe it skips funerals. This one is a 2-2 butterfly, medium sized and semi-tame.

Dr. Rayetta Pistrum Presents - Butterflies of the CB

Red, you need to let Crumby come back in the house to manage the butterfly library.

Noper. He's too dangerous to be let in the house. I may let him back in on his birthday.

But he's sick Red. Plus he can't smell or hear anything. Something may get him. You know how predators always go after the sick and crazy.

Even so, Rayetta, he can't be let in.

Hmmmm. Well all righty then, Red. But I warned you. This time the Goddess may strike Crumby down and many shall say it was your fault.

He can't come in.

Darn it. Well then, as usual, I shall have to do everything myself. Bye Red.

Bye Rayetta.

The Lovely Druidess Rayetta sashays on off to find Raymone.

Ray, where's Raymone?

He's at a meeting.

Raymone is at a meeting, of what?

Raymone is one of the subcommanders at the Silver Beaver Lodge. They're having a meeting.

What in the world, Ray? Raymone is a subcommander of the Silver Beavers? Aren't they the ones that are smuggling automatic weapons and plastique to grade school children throughout the states of the old Confederacy?

Yepper. But it's OK Rayetta. Raymone is just testing out his disguise.

Great! Well I guess I have to do the photography too. Isn't that about right!!!! Move over Ray.

All righty then.

Hmmm. OK. This is the first one of the Butterflies of the CB by Rayetta Pistrum, Ph. D. This butterfly is the Giant Swallowtail Butterfly. It's ovapositing on the same Zanthoxylum that we found the orange dog caterpillars on a while back. So this butterfly was formerly, probably, one of those orange dog caterpillars.

The giant swallowtail is a large and nervous butterfly. And that reminds me. Since I don't have much time for this activity, and obviously, I'm not going to get much help, we are going to simplify matters of textual reference. We are going to have two reference scales that shall apply to all the CB butterflies.

Scale one. Butterflies come in three size classes; large, medium and small, numbered as 1, 2, 3.

Scale two. Butterflies are placed in three classes according to their behavior; tame, semi-tame and nervous, also numbered as 1,2, 3.

So the giant swallowtail (Papilio cresphontes) is a 1 - 3 butterfly, because it's large and nervous.

Crumby in the Wilderness

Snuffle. Here I am, all alone, partially concealed in the Rhus lanceolata shrubbery. The environmental conditions out here in the wilderness are so various and fleeting that I have not kept up, and now, my sensory apparati are malfunctioning. Yepper, my ears have failed me. So I can't smell or hear either. Mercy! Goddess strike me down. Hark! Who's that off on the horizon?

Crumby! Where the heck are you?

It's the Lovely Druidess Rayetta. What?

There you are. That's better. Now listen up. The space aliens are fixing to ferry a miserable Iraqi to our street corner. The miserable Iraqi will be armed with a ray gun and see through goggles. Since you're ensconced out here in the wilderness anyway, you need to monitor the street corner for the miserable Iraqi. When it shows up, you can shoot it or arrest it, whichever. Do you understand all that?

What?

So Crumby, do you think I have the time, with my busy schedule, to repeat all that?

What?

Crumby you're really pissing me off. I shall give you a good shaking for all the trouble your inattention and wool gathering are causing me.

What?

The exasperated Druidess gives Crumby a good shaking.

Why are you shaking me, Rayetta? I didn't do nothin'.

But the shaking has the good effect of shaking some of the snot loose in Crumby's noggin so that his hearing is momentarily restored.

That's right Crumby you didn't do nothin', like pay attention when you're supposed to pay attention.

Why are ye hollerin' at me, Rayetta?

So then the Lovely Druidess eventually discovered that Crumby was deaf and that her shaking of Crumby had temporarily restored his hearing. Thus Rayetta had to repeat herself. Very annoying. But the Lovely Druidess also had pity on the almost senseless ovate.

Crumby, here's some gum. It's magic gum and it may keep the snot from clogging up your ears. Bye.

Bye, Lovely Druidess Rayetta.

Ray's Thought for the Day - I Pity the Poor Foreigner

Raymone, remember to wear your disguise today, buddy. Don't go outside looking like a Frenchman.

Oui, Monsieur Ray.

Mercy! I pity the poor foreigner that washes up on the shores of these parts. That foreigner is liable to be arrested, held indefinitely, and tortured. Mercy! Oh well. This just goes to show how humans and proto humans need to stay where they belong.

The Druid News Service (DNS) suddenly receives an encrypted message from an undisclosed secret location.

Ray, sugar, I need to get in the venue.

All righty then, Hope.

Hi there boys and regular people. This is Ms. Hope Remains, Ace Reporter. Goodness gracious, I have just received a secret message coded in braille Pig Latin. The message can only be from Vice Minister Chitlin. Land sakes! All righty then.
_____

According to Vice Minister Chitlin, the alien space armada from Deneb Kaitos is fixing to take up positions in our very own solar system. Soon the alien space armada will zoom down to Iraq and begin loading up all the miserable Iraqis. Once on board the alien space ships, all the miserable Iraqis will receive ray guns and see through goggles. Then the miserable Iraqis will be airlifted to the Homeland, zooming along in the monstrous alien space ships. When the alien craft arrive in the innocent Homeland, the monstrous alien space ship doors shall be flung open and the miserable Iraqis shall be released on every street corner of the innocent Homeland. Fortunately, since the miserable Iraqis are foreigners, US can arrest them, hold them indefinitely, and torture the bejesus out of them. Ha! The welcome those miserable Iraqis shall get in the innocent Homeland will make them feel right at home. Ha!
_____

Goodness gracious sakes alive!!!!

Dr. Rayetta Pistrum - On Nature Study

Hmmm. Raymone, where are the caterpillars?

Coming right up, Madamoiselle Rayetta.

There they are. That's better. These are gulf fritillary caterpillars (Agraulis vanillae) stuffing themselves on Corona de Crista(Passiflora foetida). Butterflies are a neglected study at the CB. But I am fixing to change that. I am fixing to start studying the butterflies. Crumby, start putting together a butterfly library. Raymone, start taking pictures of all the butterflies. Ray, you and your girlfriends start monitoring all the butterflies. I shall supervise these activities myself so that these activities shall make good progress in a timely fashion. Do you understand all that?

Yepper, Lovely Druidess Rayetta.

Good. Now all of you scatter out. And don't bunch up.

Hmmmm. Here's some free advice. If you want to Get Right with the Goddess, the first step is, nature study.

Ray's Thought for the Day - The Wages of Sin

Sun gods are uncompromising fellows, untroubled by sin and deriving no wages from sin. Take Cu Chulian for example. For Cu Chulian, the worst sin he could commit was to eat a dog. He knew, if he ate a dog, the Goddess would kill him. So after Cu Chulian ate a dog, the Goddess killed him and that was that. No muss, no fuss.

Cu Chulian derived no benefit, no wages, from his wicked sin, dog eating. He didn't even have time to digest that dog. And that particular dog didn't even taste good. But the rest of us, expect wages from our sins. A glutton counts on getting fat, one way or another. A liar counts on favorable opinions regarding itself and its actions. And both, the glutton and the liar, count on plenty of time and leisure to enjoy their sin derived wages in a safe environment.

In the Homeland, no limit on gluttony is quantified, save one. What one is that? Spouse. One can have only one spouse. If you have more than one spouse, you are identified by your gluttony and arrested if you can be found. Everything else besides spouse, you can have as much as you can glom on to, or none. How ridiculous is that? An example: Gimme 50 spam sandwiches on white bread with plenty of margarine and salad dressing. Coming right up, sir. Now, give me a marijuana cigarette. No sir, you may not have, even one, of those. See, ridiculous!

Wait a minute. What about Muslim immigrants to the Homeland. I’ll bet some of those gentleman have more than one spouse. Should they be arrested? The Mormons get arrested.

Shouldn’t all gluttony be limited and quantified, so that everyone has a set maximum goal. An example: All righty then, at any one time the maximum number of underwear I can have is ten. If I get more than ten, I’m an underwear glutton.

The punishment for underwear glutton is death by drowning. According to Druid Law, death by drowning is the generic punishment for all sin. Sin is a crime. Note: Death by drowning is an environmentally friendly form of execution because the execution medium and the executed are easily recycled, and execution by drowning doesn’t produce a bunch of heat energy and is unlikely to contribute any calories to global warming.

In addition to 10 underwear per, all maximums could be easily quantified. Caloric intake, cars, hats, telescopes, children, costume jewelry, land, books, everything. You only get a quantified amount and if you exceed that amount, you are ceremonially drowned on TV, along with many other gluttons who couldn’t control their appetites, either. Imagine that! How cool would that be, mass executions by drowning on TV!!!! Plus, there’s already plenty of indoor facilities, in case of bad weather, available. These include not only indoor swimming pools and hot tubs, but also dunker church baptismals, awaiting dual use.

While gluttony is obviously susceptible to evaluation in terms of detectable quantified limits, lying, the other sin/crime, is not. Plus, lying is an integral part of Homeland Culture these days. How the heck do we punish lying if everyone’s doing it? Long have the Druids pondered this dilemma. Now, at long last we have a solution.

At first, only the worst liars will be executed. Who are the worst liars? Easy that, the liars who make it on to TV are the worst liars. They are such accomplished liars that they have gone international through the media. So all that needs to be done is to set up an independent non-partisan commission of liar detectors. Their job shall be to monitor for liars on TV. Once they catch a liar, that liar is hauled off and drowned along with the gluttons. Whoa! Do you reckon lying on TV would soon become rarer?

Gradually, once lying on TV is damped down, the Commission of Liar Detectors could extend its operations into other areas needing liar detection, which is most everywhere unfortunately, so the commissioners might have their work cut out, rooting out the liars who were unmoved by the public drowning of the TV liars. But maybe not, a great many liars are probably cowards that would be moved to repentance by the public drowning of the TV liars and thus cease their lying ways, voluntarily.

Yepper. Eventually, the Homeland shall become the very first industrialized society freed from the wages of sin derived from lying and gluttony. Closet space will increase. The cars will fit in the garages. Foreigners, for example, the Pygmies, won't have to worry about US gobbling them up.

Crumby in the Wilderness

Mercy! All alone in the wilderness, partially concealed amidst the towering Panicum virgatum, that the vulgar spell switchgrass, with Ogma fading to a fickle memory and only an empty Cheetos wrapper for company, I watched the distant lightning generated in the clouds way off to the east northeast. The wind began to whip around prodigiously from the west and the clouds blew on off to reveal the boldest of the naked celestial bodies. Suddenly a great gust whipped the Cheetos wrapper from my grasp and then I was all alone, fer sure. Mercy!

Luckily fer me, I happened to have a telescope and a cigar box full of optical aids handy, so that I could visit long distance with Queen Cassiopeia, Perseus, Taurus and Orion. That's four for the Crumby Ovate to visit with. Praise the Goddess upon whose firmanent I have a transitory foothold that even in the gusty winds of the terrible wilderness sufficed to keep me from blowing off into the airless space that surrounds this tiny globe, Earth, upon which the Goddess holds me and keeps me from blowing off into the airless space where there wouldn't be any air, out there, so terribly distant from Her Ample Bosoms.

Praise the Goddess!!!! for keeping me safe in the wilderness, for the cruel whispers of the Wicker Man were carried on the prodigious gusting wind to my wiggling ears.

But wait! What good advice did the mighty foursome of my company advise me thereof. Easy that, "Crumby," they foretold, "as soon as Ogma returns you should police up that Cheetos wrapper. Also, the filter came off your good for 10,000 years flashlight so you need to police that up, too."

Crumby in the Wilderness

Yep. Here I am, consigned to the great outdoors with only livestock and pets for company. Even my servant, Lleu Llaw shuns me. Even my bosom companion, Ray, has abandoned me. Merciful Goddess, strike me down. It’s hot too. And my bed of hides is full of vermin due to the rapidly changing environmental conditions in these parts allowing the vermin to extend their life cycles. So I get no rest, tormented by the heat and vermin out here in the forbidding wilderness. Merciful Goddess, strike me down.

But then I got to thinking. It could be worse. I could still be a wicked Christian. By now I might be so forward among the wicked Christians that they might assign me to an encounter group with one or another of their wicked leaders that strayed from the path. Mercy. What could be worse than monitoring a wicked Christian for four years? How boring and predictable would that be? But hark! There’s Hope on the horizon. What’s that she’s got?

Crumby, oh Crumby, where are you?

Right here.

Land sakes. I can’t see you, Crumby.

Dang it, I’m right here, only partially concealed by the Ilex vomitoria shrubbery.

Goodness gracious. There you are Crumby. Look. I brought you some nice treats. See, potted meat, Cheetos and organic orange soda water.

Really!

Yepper. Red sent you these nice treats and supplies.

Really!

Yepper. And Red says you can come back in the house on your birthday if you survive that long.

All righty then!

Bye Crumby.

Bye Hope.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Sin

Let’s see. What semi-great truths should I reveal to myself, today? Er. O h well. Maybe I can’t think of any new semi-great truths. So perhaps I should do some Patterning. All righty then.

Yesterday, was hot and humid. These parts tied a record high temperature, ho hum. So naturally I was much concerned with inner thigh chafing associated with “werkin’ in the sun.” But now, since I am alert to the possibility of inner thigh chafing, I plan ahead and also walk bow-legged during the performance of my werk, out in the stifling heat and humidity of these parts. Today, the high is forecast to be 91, but who knows about that. The weather robot requires re-calibaration, fer sure

It’s that time of year for Crumby. So my bosom companion is like unto a cornered rat, but more dangerous. Crumby is undergoing his annual Worthiness Test and the Mercury Transit incident really set him off. Red won’t let him come in the house. He’s too dangerous.

Hey! All righty then, a semi-great truth, maybe, just epiphany-ed me. Remember Sodom and Gomorrah, those twain evil cities that may have been destroyed by the one god because the citizens of those municipalities were so wicked. Many, maybe, were the sins practiced by those wicked rascals. Those sins the Sodomites and Gomorrahites indulged in, maybe, were, in alphabetical order: adultery, anger, bestiality, bearing false witnessing (lying), blasphemy, boasting, calumny, cheating, coveting neighbor’s wife, coveting in general, cruelty, deceit, denying the one god, detraction, drunkardliness, envy, fornication, gambling, greed, gluttony, gossip, idolatry, jealousy, love of money, lechery, lust, lying more than once on the same topic, masturbation, murder, pride, revenge, robbing, rushing to judgement, rustling, selfishness, slander, sloth, sodomy (all kinds), spiritual neglect, stealing, unbelief and usury. Plus, there may be some more sins they we're indulging in that I am not aware of.

See why the Druids have whittled the sins down to just two, lying and gluttony? Two is a manageable number. And, lying and gluttony are sins that are readily subject to peer review, unlike, for example, covetousness and masturbation. They are both public sins, readily discernible and therefore handily punishable. What should the penalty be for these sins, lying and gluttony?

Easy that.
_____

Sin footnote: Is incest a sin? What about cannabalism? What about chewing with your mouth open? How about putting your boogers on the wall above the urinal? Is smartaleckiness a sin? What about smarminess? These are more examples of too many sins or potential sins. Leave it at two.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Rumpler Rising

Yep. It was a sad picture. Rumpler cleaning out his desk, his emblamatic tear-stained underwear stuck on his old noggin. But cheer up Rumpler, surely you were smart enough to sock a a little something away from all those years in, er, public service. And if not, still cheer up. You have some time left before the Goddess gets you. You can go on TV and Radio as a hemi-regular, and make a new career for yourself, commentating on whatever, just like Ollie and that burglar.

There you will be on TV or Radio, with that emblematic underwear socked down on your old noggin. Of course, you will have to explain to the radio audience about the underwear because they won't be able to espy the underwear. That will be fun. Won't it? A great many in the Homeland proudly wear their underwear on their heads because of you. Hooray for underwear hats!

Oh! Guess what? If you think about it, no matter how much armor you put on your car, that armor won't save you from the Wicker Man.

Crumby's Telescope Tomfoolery Notes - The Goddess Should Kill Me Off, During November or December of the Julian

A series of events, some of them unforetold, led to my not getting to espy the Mercury Transit. All these events, some foretold by me, but some unforetold, even though they should have been foretold, are entirely my fault. It's my fault I didn't get to espy the Mercury Transit. So all I have is my crumby cartoon of that transit. That's about it.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Dapper Dan

All righty then. What passes for democracy among US has pepped up. Now the challenge is to get it to work some. A good first step should be, force the Kinglet to obey the Laws of the Land. He’s been exempted from the Laws of the Land, long enough.

But sadly, down here in the State of Tejas, the Mammonites generally triumphed electorally, just as my bosom companion foretold they would, triumph. Oh well, it’s tough to get democracy up and running in a third world country dominated by Mammonites.

Considering the sad situation in these parts, maybe one or another of the Homeland Departments with oversight responsibilities in the colonies could help US out by launching an investigation into who’s footing the bill for our well-coifed governor’s Dapper Dan.

Crumby's Telescope Tomfoolery Notes - Caer Gwydyon?

Here's something that didn't come up during my many years of Druid training. On page 1,629 of Burnham's Celestial Handbook, the Milky Way is described as Caer Gwydyon (sic), and this astonishing information is attributed to Welsh legend. Alas, Burnham does not provide a reference for this surprising information. Apparently, the Milky Way, which is no longer visible in these parts, has long been a subject of both prose and poesy, as Burnham devotes many pages to the historical commentary on the Milky Way.

Tomorrow, Goddess Willing, I shall view the Mercury Transit. I am all set for that event.

Er. My bosom companion is apparently in contact with space angels. The space angels, according to bosom companion Ray, are fixing to destroy the Earth. Obviously, the space angels should pick me to be the sole survivor of Earth's destruction. I hope the space angels aren't in a big hurry for my clone specificiations though. I may have to worry over those specifications awhile, considering I'll be stranded on a strange planet with only my clone for company.

Let's see. Oh yes, I did my civic duty and voted straight Yellow Dog. However, there were a bunch of minor offices up for grabs with no Yellow Dogs running for those offices. So I didn't vote for those offices. If I had voted for those offices, I would have voted for the Libertarians, maybe.

But getting back to my clone. Those specifications for my clone are stressing me out. If you were lucky enough to get picked, would the specifications for your clone stress you out?

Ray's Thought for the Day - End Times

All righty then. I have received an important and interesting communication from space aliens or angels, whichever. Here’s the deal. The aliens or space angels are going to destroy the Earth. But they are going to rescue one Earthling and take it off with them. Once the lucky Earthling is on board their vehicle or cloud, the angel aliens shall answer all the questions the Earthling may have regarding what’s happening and why. Then, they will grant the Earthling any wishes it may have, the wishes constrained only by reason and possibility.

Since only one Earthling shall be rescued, the alien angels, who are experts at cloning, shall clone a partner for the lucky Earthling, from the lucky Earthling. Plus, the clone shall be manufactured to the lucky Earthlings specifications. Once the clone is up to snuff, the lucky Earthling and its clone partner shall be deposited on their very own planet. What’s more, they shall be the most advanced life form on that planet.

The long-lived space creatures want to see what the Earthling and its clone shall do on their beautiful new virgin planet. These particular angels or aliens shall come back and check up on the Earthling and its clone partner, anon.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Rainfall Update

Since the last rainfall update on October 26, '06 of the Julian, we have accumulated 0.05 inches in the guage, maybe. So that brings us on up to 17.50" for the year. It's starting to look like another bad fall rain wise. It's plenty warm too. We just had a little front come through from the west, but it's still 80 in the shade.

With the balmy weather and the little bit of rain we had back in October, the Eupsy daisies and the Salvias have burst into bloom. Today there are hundreds of butterflies at the CB taking advantage of the flowers. By far, the snout butterflies are the most abundant, attracted to what may be Eupatorium incarnatum.

Crumby has been out looking at Ogma and has pictures. Crumby, do you want to share your pictures in this venue?

Not really, Ray.

Oh come on Crumby. Share your pictures in the venue.

All righty then. Here are two pictures of Ogma. They both show sun spots. I don't know if they're the same sunspots or not. One picture is from a few days ago. The other one is today. Personally, even though they look somewhat different I think they may be the same general sunspots. But maybe not.

Crumby Ovates the Upcoming

This election spasm in Texas or Tejas, whichever, will ratify the rush to make this state one of the greatest states in the Third World, the greatest, maybe. That’s because the representatives of the Tejas Oligarchy will once again brush aside all opposition and sweep to victory. What does this mean for US losers? Easy that, Tejas shall expand its lead as the number one, third world class polluter. Tejas shall also become the world’s greatest transit point for free trade. The enthusiastically unregulated increase in all the pollution and asphalt shall make US hotter and drier than we already are.

The limited government, long under the sway of the oligarchy, shall be maintained, both for appearance sake, and as a source of loot for those in cahoots with the oligarchy. State employment shall be further trivialized, downsized and outsourced.

The Oligarchy shall continue to favor cheap labor, putting aside cultural prejudices against cheap labor, so that they shall continue to enjoy all the benefits of cheap labor.

As one of the most important third world states, the largest state in the western hemisphere with no red tape, Tejas shall attract all manner of immigrants, hoping for a regulation free environment and access to cheap labor. The land speculator branches of the oligarchy shall help the new immigrants realize all those hopes.

The main sins in Tejas shall continue, lying and gluttony. But those main sins shall receive scanty public condemnation. Rather, the hemi-sin, sodomy, shall continue to get all the press. But all the sodomites with the right connections shall receive forgiveness.

Jesus will decide,

I’m not going on back down there. It’s too nasty down there in terms of all the pollution.

_____

All righty then. These are some of my ovations respecting the upcoming. Nevertheless, I am voting a straight Yellow Dog Democratic Ticket, Praise the Goddess!!!! Ovating the future and doing anything about the future are not the same difference, maybe.

Raymone's Spicy Plants du Jour

Two commonly used spices blooming at the CB now are:

Oregano

Rosemary

Both of these are hardy, sparse rainfall tolerant perennial shrubs and delicious.

Crumby's Telescope Tomfoolery Notes - Adventures with Ogma

Wouldn't you know it. Now that I am all set up to espy more sunspots, the clouds have charged in out of nowhere. Worthless or nearly so from the sungazer's perspective, they aren't even rain clouds. Shucks! I could just as well be stuck in Folsum Prison, from the sungazer's perspective.

Everyone but me went off to Pow Wow. I may go over later and look at the flutes. I ovate that the vendors outside Pow Wow have a great many flutes for sale. If I had a flute I could maybe learn to play the flute on cloudy days and nights. I would play such mournful music on the flute that the clouds would weep bitter tears for all the times they've passed me by and not rained on me. Then I would play a jig on my flute, dispelling the general gloom. Out Ogma would pop from behind the cloudy curtain and then I could look at the sunspots, all thanks to my concert quality flute toodle-ing ability.

Er. Let me ovate a minute. This is November 4th of the Julian. That means the 8th is four days anon. So I foretell, given the heavy significance of the number 4, that the western horizon shall be free of clouds on the 8th, maybe. So all I need to do is go off and find a spot to set up and I shall then happily view the Mercury Transit on that date, maybe.

Well, there's actually one more item to deal with. Yesterday, I stripped the screw on my altitude slow-motion cable. I need to deal with that before the 8th too.

Ray's Afterthought for the Day - Pow Wow!

Yepper. It's Pow Wow today in these parts. Since my Saturday delicious cinnamon bun, is et up, and now only a happy memory, I may go enjoy the Pow Wow.

The Druid News Service (DNS) Another Newsy News Feature on US Culture Today - Does Sodomy Define the Homeland?

Hi there boys and regular people. Yep. This is Ms. Hope Remains, Ace Reporter for the DNS, with yet another intermittent newsy news feature on US Homeland Culture. Goodness gracious sakes alive! Today we have a very special topic to discuss, and you, the home audience can watch it all from the comfort and safety of your own homes. How about that!!!!

Today, we have a whole panel of special guests to discuss the interesting cultural question, Does Sodomy Define the Homeland? Come on over special guests and find a seat on the nice Lazy Boy reclining sofa for special guests.

The special guests file in and assemble themselves on the reclining Lazy Boy sofa, divan, or couch whatever.

Special guests, that Lazy Boy has controls for each of you, so that each of you may tilt your portion of the couch to a personally comfortable declination. Crumby, your control device is the lever between you and Rayetta. All righty then. Are we all comfy and ready to begin? Yepper. Then let me introduce you, today’s special guests to the Homeland home audience.

First, on the left, is Dr. Rayetta Pistrum, known far and wide as the Lovely Druidess Rayetta. Dr. Pistrum has a Ph. D. in Animal Husbandry and has published a great many learned tomes on the behaviors, attitudes and dietary preferences of our ungulate friends, both wild and domestic. Next, in the middle, is Mr. Crumby Ovate. Mr. Ovate has spent many decades studying patterns and recently matriculated to full Ovate status. As a former wicked Christian, narrowly saved from all that by the Blessed White Goddess, Mr. Ovate brings special expertise on sodomy to the panel. Last but not least, on the right is Mr. Ray Pistrum. Ray is my boyfriend. Uh. Let’s see. Oh my goodness! Ray is Dr. Pistrum’s brother, too, and the bosom companion of the Crumby Ovate. Mr. Pistrum is also an author of diverse thoughts and a Sun God Trainee. How about that!!!!

Ms Remains: Okie Dokie. Let’s begin. Mr. Ovate, can you explain to the home audience, in your own words, why sodomy has apparently come to define the Homeland?

Mr. Ovate: Thank you Ms. Remains. But the Homeland sodomy story is a long story. Nevertheless, I shall condense the long story down to a nugget or kernel, whichever. Sodomy is defined as various unnatural acts involving human organs and tissues coming into contact with each other for non-reproductive purposes. For sodomy to take place the organs and tissues need to belong to at least two human individuals, each involved with the other ones organs and tissues in a non-reproductive capacity.

Ms. Remains: Excuse me Crumby, but I can tell from the fidgeting on the sofa to your right that Mr. Pistrum has a question or comment. Mr. Pistrum.

Mr. Pistrum: Yes, I do. Mr. Ovate, according to your definition, I can’t sodomize myself. Is that what you’re stating?


Mr. Ovate: Er, yes. Probably you can’t sodomize yourself, maybe. At least according to the definition you got to have a partner.

Ms Remains: I better not catch you sodomizing yourself, Ray!

Mr. Pistum: My question was merely theoretical, Ms. Remains, and meant for clarification only. So those viewing at home will know that they can’t sodomize themselves, by definition.

Ms. Remains: All righty then. Goodness, I have always wondered if animals do sodomy, yet by definition, only people do sodomy. Dr. Pistrum, what about ungulates do the ungulates do sodomy?

Dr. Pistrum: Hmmm. Not by definition. However, the ungulates do, on occasion, perform coupled antics or even group antics that may or may not lead immediately to the procreative act. These behaviors are collectively referred to as ungulations. Ungulation may be a convergent pattern of behavior, similar to sodomy, but occurring exclusively among the bovines, the antelopes and even the genus Bison of the Artiodactyla.

Mr. Ovate: Say Dr. Pistrum, have any species gone extinct due to too much ungulation?

Dr. Pistrum: There is no scientific evidence of that occurring. All the extant ungulate species seem to perpetuate themselves adequately, so that they may persist in nature, despite occasional ungulations. Mostly they have to watch out for predators, periodic herbage shortages and habitat loss to keep from going extinct. And of course, now we can artificially inseminate them ourselves. So the domestic ones, and the ones that live in zoological gardens, at any rate, have the benefits of artificial insemination, and ungulation isn’t a problem for them in terms of species survival.

Mr. Ovate: That’s good to know, Dr. Pistrum. But getting back to the condensed story of Homeland sodomy

Ms. Remains: Mr. Ovate, we need to go to commercial so hold that Homeland sodomy story and we’ll continue with it right after this important and interesting commercial message.

The commercial message: Hi there girls, especially you old ample girls. My assistants, Carl and Mary the Virgin are holding up a full-size color placard featuring me, Nancy, the Goddess of Practical Jokes. The color placard indicates the sad state of my naked bosoms a month ago, prior to once weekly applications of Nancy’s Bosom Lifter and Toner Anointment Ointment. Now, if I can get this smock off, there now, you can see the improvement after just four applications. My ample bosoms are perfect. And I’m 206 years old. Mary, show the home audience my birth certificate. There now, that birth certificate is dated, October 31, 1770. I’m living proof of what Nancy’ Bosom Lifter and Toner Anointment Ointment can do for your bosoms. So don’t wait until you’re vertical or nearly so. Send in your order now, today, and you’ll get a five gallon bucket of Nancy’s Bosom Lifter and Toner. Plus, you’ll get to keep the bucket. The five-gallon bucket is free!

This is one time cash only offer. So send two grand in whatever denominations to Nancy, c/o The Joke Factory, College Station, Texas and your bosoms will soon look just as good as mine, perfect. Whoa! Just espy my bosoms!!!! Perfect!!!!
_____

We now return to our regularly scheduled program.
_____

Ms. Remains: Goodness! That commercial break was interesting! Land sakes! Where were we?

Mr. Ovate: Er. I was fixing to continue my condensed history of Homeland sodomy, maybe, Ms. Remains.

Ms. Remains: Yep. That’s right. You were fixing to do just that. Goodness. Rayetta, would you care to go in on a bucket of Nancy’s Anointment Ointment with me. Prevention is half the cure.

Mr. Pistrum: I’ll get ye a whole bucket if ye want it, sugar.

Ms. Remains: Shut up Ray. I wasn’t asking you. Mercy. Never mind all that, anyway. OK. Mr. Ovate. Please continue.

Mr. Ovate: All righty then. There are two main branches of the Mammonite Christians that focused the Homeland’s attention span on sodomy. Those two main branches are the dispensationalites and the dominionites.

Dr. Pistrum: You’re making them up Crumby.

Mr. Ovate: No, no, no. I’m not Rayetta. Goddess Truth. I’m not making them up.

Dr. Pistrum: Crumby, look me in the eye.

Mr. Ovate: OK, OK, OK, I changed the ends of the names to make them sound more Biblical. So they actually call themselves dispensationalists and dominionists.

Dr. Pistrum: There that’s better. You’re on TV Crumby, and you shouldn’t exaggerate on TV.

Mr. Ovate: That’s correct, Rayetta, I shouldn’t exaggerate, even to enhance the drama and excitement. Anyway, the dispensationlists teach that this world is coming to its end anon, for the one god has dispensed that knowledge to them via a revelation. Moreover, the end could be pretty soon, as well as anon, because the signs of impending doom are getting dispensed right and left, more and more, and one of those signs is the widespread increase in sodomy.

The dominionists, on the other hand, teach that a nice place has to be prepared for Jesus before the end can come about, anon, and that place that has to be prepared for Jesus, is the Homeland, and we can’t have a bunch of sodomy going on in the Homeland when Jesus gets ready to come on down because all the sodomy might put him off his feed and he’s liable to go somewhere else, or stay up in heaven.

Thus the Mammonites are split over the important issue of sodomy. The dispensationalists want more signs of sodomy to bolster their prognostications. The dominionists want less apparent sodomy, in the Homeland, so Jesus will be happy to stay here. Right now, it appears that the dispensationalists are having the better of it, because they’re getting lots of new sodomy signs.

The dominionists, on the other hand, control the Homeland Congress. Plus, the Kinglet is a dominionist. Being a dominionist is hard work. A dominionist, like the Kinglet, may seem pokey sometimes. That’s about it, a kernel or nugget of why sodomy has come to define the Homeland.

Dr. Pistrum: Crumby, if you made all this up, you are going to catch hell when we get back to the Cow Barn.

Mr. Ovate: No, no, no, Rayetta. It’s all true. If I’m lying, the Wicker Man can have me.

Dr. Pistrum: Hmmm.

Mr. Pistrum: Mr. Ovate. Why do you say the Kinglet sometimes appears pokey? And could you hurry up and answer expeditiously cause my stomachs growling.

Mr. Ovate: OK. Anytime anything happens to the Kinglet, that happening is unprecedented and biblical in proportion. So the Kinglet first has to consider what he can do with the happening to make it more acceptable to Jesus. Then he has to ask the one god to tell him what to do. Then whatever that is, he has to stick to that godly opinion. That’s why during an emergency the Kinglet seems to be just sitting around thinking and his response seems pokey. He’s got to ask the one god about how Jesus would like to see the Homeland to be fixed up.

Dr. Pistrum: So Crumby, how come so many of the Mammonites are liars and gluttons. Answer that one Mr. Smarty Pants? If they’re fixing up the Homeland for Jesus, why are they making such a big mess?

Mr. Ovate: Easy that Rayetta. They believe the world is ending, maybe, so that sad possibility gives them leave to run amuck. They think everyone who is free of sodomy, or asks forgiveness for sodomy, will get raptured on up, or get to prance around in New Jerusalem selling real estate. Once Jesus comes on back, they’ll all be rich beyond their wildest dreams, maybe. Then too, a bunch of the Mammonites don’t believe any of this stuff. They just say they believe it. Those Mammonites that don’t believe in any of this malarkey are just in it for the money.

Ms. Remains: Goodness gracious sakes alive. We’re all out of time. Thanks to our special guests today for getting to the bottom of Homeland sodomy. Apparently, sodomy does define the Homeland. This is Ms. Hope Remains, Ace Reporter, bidding you in the Homeland home audience, adieu. Watch out for the Wicker Man!!!! Now where’s Nancy’s address?

Ray's Thought for the Day - Especially Delicious Supper

The fresh salmon at the grocery store was on special this week so I got some. Then I went out and picked some Mexican rosemary and mixed that in with the juice of awhole lemon, some olive oil, black pepper and sea salt. I brushed that concoction over the top side of the fresh salmon and baked it. Then I also fixed cornbread, collard greens and sweet potatoes with black strap molasses. Mmmmmmm-boy. That supper was especially delicious. Praise the Goddess!

Crumby's Telescope Tomfoolery Notes - The Mercury Transit

OK. According to today’s electric missal rendition of the November issue of the Orion Sky Times, the Mercury transit shall be visible from the general vicinity of the CB at sundown on November 8 of the Julian, weather permitting. A Mercury transit occurs when Mercury passes between our tiny globe, Earth, and the sun, thus providing the amateur astronomer an opportunity to view this solar system phenomena, a Mercury transit. Thirteen times during an average century, Mercury passes between our little globe and the sun. If Mercury was much bigger, its passage would be referenced as an eclipse rather than as a mere transit.

Considering the situation tactically from the perspective of an amateur astronomer, rather than strategically, like a god, I need to accomplish a great many tactical maneuvers to assure that I shall get to espy the transit. First, I need to find a spot near the CB that allows an unrestricted view of the west horizon that includes Ogma’s path or ecliptic, whichever, where that path transgresses against the horizon. My location needs to be safe to the extent that I shall not be forced to shoot a pesterer that pesters me while I am fixing up the telescopery gear. Then I need to practice looking at the sun with the gear beforehand. Plus, all these preparations shall be to no avail if its cloudy that day at sunset.

With the weather robot in these parts under incompetent Republican control and needing a good calibrating from a real scientist, I shall have to rely on my ovational skills to predict whether the clouds shall make all my preparation unnecessary. Probably I should do that first, to save myself a bunch of aggravation.

Just in case it’s cloudy on November 8 of the Julian, I have already ovated an artist’s rendition of Mercury’s transit as viewed through the telescope of a typical amateur astronomer. Here that is somewhere. The careful observer should note that unlike most artistic renditions of Mercury, mine takes the trouble to include the caudal feathers or tail feathers, whichever, necessary to proper sustained flight.

Also, according to the November electric Orion Sky Times, Venus will do a transit on June 6, 2012. I may need to migrate somewhere else by then, so I can espy that.

Later

OK. I got to excited to do a weather ovation first. Instead, I decided to see if I could get the telescopery gear set up to look at the sun. I needed to do that anyway because the first time, a while back, I tried to look at the sun with the telescopery gear, I didn't look at the sun at all. I got to aggravated trying to find old Ogma and focus in on him. Plus, there's the possibility of blinding yourself without reaching Onan's Limit first and that's no fun. I knew that as aggravated as I was, I was liable to blind myself.

OK. The equipment I used to espy Ogma this time was way better than the first time because I mounted the C 90 Mak on a real telescope tripod instead of a camera tripod. That helped a lot. Also, because of all the trouble I had finding the sun last time, I decided to go with the widest FOV ep I have, a 32 mm plossl with a focal reducer screwed into it. It still took me at least an hour to find the sun in the telescope.

The trouble is, there's no good way to line up the telescope on the sun and I didn't know what the sun was supposed to look like with a modified Baader Astrozap sun filter stuck to the front of the C 90. And worst of all, I can never remember which way the focus knob goes to focus on stars and such versus leaves. I think I'll remember that from now on though with respect to the focuser on the C 90 because at one point I turned the focuser clockwise to look at some leaves, just to make sure the dang thing was working. I had to take the Baader Astrozap off to do that.

Finally, I figured out that I could go by the shadow thrown by the top Baader Astrozap screw to line up on the sun in the horizontal and use the shadows thrown by the top far end of the telescope to line up in the vertical. That actually worked, eventually.

Once I finally found what I thought might be the sun, a big white ball, I still had to focus on it. How the heck do I focus on this thing? I thought. So I fiddled with the focuser until the edge of the white ball looked sharp. Whoa! I could see heat waves or something coming off the edges. Then, looking around on the ball I saw spots. Whoa! So I moved the scope up and down, back and forth to see if the spots stayed on the ball. They did. Whoa! Those are sun spots. I thought. Not merely boogers stuck to one of the lenses.

OK. I better take a picture of the telescopery gear as a pnemonic aid for November 8 of the Julian. There.

All righty then. I'm all set for the transit, equipment wise.

Oh! I also took some pictures of the sunspots, but they were out of focus because I got so excited I forgot to use the remote.

Mercy for Crumby!!!!

Yepper. Here I am on Planet Earth, that's hurtling along in a eliptical orbit around Ogma. But hark, this is the same place I was at last year, the same locality in space and time where the Goddess, Bless Her Heart, decides She needs to test me to see if I am worthy to continue. Indicated here somewhere is one of those tests, some grouchy yellow jackets I bumped into with my dang noggin. Fortunately, none of us were seriously injured, me or the yellowjackets, whichever.

For a couple of years previous to this year I was worried about the yellow jackets because they seemed to be gone. In their absence, I had no one to help eat up the bagworms. So I am glad to see this bunch, but they could have built someplace that I wouldn't bump my noggin on, maybe.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Enduring Symbols

All righty then. Yesterday, I worked in the sun, under Ogma’s fickle rays. Yep, I got a red neck “frum werkin' in the sun.” Fortunately, and thanks to Crumby's preventative ointment, another inner thing chaffing event was narrowly avoided, so I didn't get red inner thighs from "werkin' in the sun."

Ogma was fired up yesterday and the temperature rose to the high heavens so when I got back to the relatively safe CB I decided to enjoy a nice 48oz Dolmen Stout. You know, to cool myself off and relax with. So I set myself down in my Lazy Boy and hollered, girlfriends, one of you twain fetch me a 48 oz Dolmen.

Right Ray! came the reply to my simple and innocent command.

So after I got my delicious 48oz Dolmen myself and reconstituted myself in my Lazy Boy at the proper declination, I used the electric squirter device to direct a beam of electrons at the TV so that the TV would know to turn itself on. Whoa! The program the TV was attuned to starred the Kinglet. There was our Kinglet, surrounded by hay and pumpkins. The pumpkins featured bumper stickers. Right there, I could surmise, my thoughts stimulated by the Dolmen, that whoever organized the program was pretty smart to think up putting a bumper sticker on a pumpkin, especially at Halloween.

The hay and pumpkins generally symbolize the bountiful harvest that we are all thankful for. So did the Kinglet’s attire. The Kinglet was garbed in a casual shirt, the casual shirt symbolizing his kingly involvement with the bountiful harvest, the hay and pumpkins. The final symbol assembled was the crowd of local Mammonites set about under bunched up, crowded conditions to honor the Kinglet. Their symbolic contribution was to arrive at the event all dressed up in their Sunday best, thus symbolizing both prosperity and respect for the Kinglet.

About that time Red came along and ensconced himself at a comfortable declination in one of the adjacent Lazy Boys.

Ray, why don’t ye turn on the TV noise so we can hear the show?

Noper, Red, even though I may be lacking in your ovational skills, I don’t need to hear the noise to know what’s afoot. It’s the Kinglet, preaching to, or pepping up the Mammonites. See. The pumpkins are adorned with bumper stickers.

Yer correct Ray. Those appear to be bumper stickers on the pumpkins. Mercy. That’s a pretty good trick, especially at Halloween.

That ‘s what I thought too, Red.

Dern it, ye know Ray, I am experiencing some deja vu. This TV spectacle puts me in mind of a Samhuin fair of my youth in Ulster. Old King Cochubur had his annual fair going to Honor the Goddess and all, but there was no pumpkins set about the stage, just hay. “Where are the pumpkins’ the Ulsterman crowded around the stage hollered. “We need to espy us a pumpkin or two, it’s traditional.”

But Conchubur’s lackeys had forgot to bring along any pumpkins to entertain the crowd with. Mercy! The Ulstermen all started hollering out louder than before and many of those Ulstermen pulled concealed weapons. Clearly, the situation looked bad for Conchubur, but just then, up came Cu Chulian on his great chariot, and Loeg his chariot driver with him and they had a great load of pumpkins in the chariot taken from the Connachtmen. So that Halloween, thanks to Cu Chulian, turned out be one of the best Halloweens ever in those parts and everyone had lots of fun with the pumpkins, those symbols of a good harvest and the peace and prosperity that goes along with a good harvest.

Say Red, was Halloween a state holiday back then.

Yepper Ray, one of the four state holidays in Ulster.

So nobody was obliged to go to work?

Yepper Ray, they all got to go to the fair instead of werkin’.

So Halloween is like May Day, that is, the official state holidays have been shifted around these days in these parts to spare the feelings of the Christians regarding their separation from nature.

Yepper do Ray.