Miss Robin Crusoe
Crumby was shocked. Shocked I tell you.
That's right. After an ill-advised afternoon of car birding and fast food, Crumby was so stressed out he woke up at 4am, then couldn't go back to sleep. For those few ignoramuses who don't know, car birding is when an average birder goes looking for avian friends whilst behind the wheel or totally seated within a great vehicle. It's a stupid and dangerous practice aggravated by the paucity of public land in these parts. Not only is there the danger of getting hit by another great vehicle, but curious property owners are liable to accost the mobile yet miserable or intermittently inert birder even when said birder is on the public road right-of-way. Maybe it's the bins and spotting scopes that spook the locals. Or maybe they are just nosy and incapable of minding their own business. Mercy!
Whut ere ye a doin?
Well sir. I am a spy for the United Nations. And guess what. Your property has been chosen for immediate occupation by the Red Army. Look there. The Soviet paratroopers are dropping as we speak. Now, get ready for free love and abortion on demand. Also, get ready to work or starve.
Yes. Car birding is stupid and dangerous. But if you're fixing to do a Big Ass Year, yet yer home base is Les Republico Estrella Uno, then car birding is, sadly, necessary. Hmm. Is it worth it?
But Crumby digresses. There Crumby was, wide awake at 4am fixng to disturb everyone else. I better get up and go watch TV before I disturb everyone else. In the pipe, 5-5-5. That's right. The selected channed was 555 or Turner Classic Movies (TCM). And the featured attraction, a little more than half over, was Miss Robin Crusoe. Immediately Crumby espeid the familar stern visage and cleavage of Miss Kitty, I mean Miss Robin, I mean Miss Blake.
Holy Smokes! This is the most racist and sexist movie I have espied ever. Goodness gracious. I shouldn't be watching this. This epic propaganda film, plus fast food poisoning, could leave me voting republican.
However, Crumby kept on watching right up until the part where the California Negroes corner the white people and Friday. Then, as Miss Robin fires her flintlock aimlessly, Crumby, annoyed by the aimless marksmanship, switches to a soft core porn channel. Anon, when Crumby switches back, the credits are already rolling. Dang it. Crumby has to look up the ending on the internet.
Well. Praise the Goddess. The white people and, surpisingly, Friday, got away clean. Wonder why Friday didn't sacrifice herself to help the white people? Crumby wondered.
And what is the moral to this particular venue entry. Well. The moral is that even a good person like Miss Blake can do bad things to make money. Which is like car birding except that Crumby didn't get paid.
That's right. After an ill-advised afternoon of car birding and fast food, Crumby was so stressed out he woke up at 4am, then couldn't go back to sleep. For those few ignoramuses who don't know, car birding is when an average birder goes looking for avian friends whilst behind the wheel or totally seated within a great vehicle. It's a stupid and dangerous practice aggravated by the paucity of public land in these parts. Not only is there the danger of getting hit by another great vehicle, but curious property owners are liable to accost the mobile yet miserable or intermittently inert birder even when said birder is on the public road right-of-way. Maybe it's the bins and spotting scopes that spook the locals. Or maybe they are just nosy and incapable of minding their own business. Mercy!
Whut ere ye a doin?
Well sir. I am a spy for the United Nations. And guess what. Your property has been chosen for immediate occupation by the Red Army. Look there. The Soviet paratroopers are dropping as we speak. Now, get ready for free love and abortion on demand. Also, get ready to work or starve.
Yes. Car birding is stupid and dangerous. But if you're fixing to do a Big Ass Year, yet yer home base is Les Republico Estrella Uno, then car birding is, sadly, necessary. Hmm. Is it worth it?
But Crumby digresses. There Crumby was, wide awake at 4am fixng to disturb everyone else. I better get up and go watch TV before I disturb everyone else. In the pipe, 5-5-5. That's right. The selected channed was 555 or Turner Classic Movies (TCM). And the featured attraction, a little more than half over, was Miss Robin Crusoe. Immediately Crumby espeid the familar stern visage and cleavage of Miss Kitty, I mean Miss Robin, I mean Miss Blake.
Holy Smokes! This is the most racist and sexist movie I have espied ever. Goodness gracious. I shouldn't be watching this. This epic propaganda film, plus fast food poisoning, could leave me voting republican.
However, Crumby kept on watching right up until the part where the California Negroes corner the white people and Friday. Then, as Miss Robin fires her flintlock aimlessly, Crumby, annoyed by the aimless marksmanship, switches to a soft core porn channel. Anon, when Crumby switches back, the credits are already rolling. Dang it. Crumby has to look up the ending on the internet.
Well. Praise the Goddess. The white people and, surpisingly, Friday, got away clean. Wonder why Friday didn't sacrifice herself to help the white people? Crumby wondered.
And what is the moral to this particular venue entry. Well. The moral is that even a good person like Miss Blake can do bad things to make money. Which is like car birding except that Crumby didn't get paid.
posted by ray pistrum at Sunday, January 27, 2013
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