Tag Archives: humor

Cat Pee Potpourri

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For Christmas this year, my wife made me a wonderful plaid flannel bathrobe.

Unfortunately, one of the cats peed on it.

The cats were restless last night, since we’re visiting my mom, who also has a cat, and they don’t have the run of the place like they’re used to. At some point in the middle of the night, my wife had laid my new Christmas bathrobe over the boxes of presents we brought, which they felt personally entitled to. Her plan worked for the most part; they didn’t tear open any gift wrapping.

But, either out of frustration, or because they forgot where their temporary bathroom is, they decided to take a leak on the comfiest surface available—my robe. Fortunately for me, I discovered that shocking fact before sliding an arm through a kitty-drenched sleeve. Oh well, that’s why God invented washing machines.

Miraculously, the wrapped presents below fared far better, although the imported beer I got for my brother in law got a bit of a golden shower. Too bad for him he doesn’t read my blog, or he’d know which bottles to avoid.

The other unintended target was a bag of potpourri. The resulting combination, Cat Pee Potpourri—now a registered trademark—will soon be available at WalMarts everywhere.

If you can’t find it, check the closeout rack, next to the Duck Dynasty T-shirts.

Text and Photography © Jim Robertson, 2013.

Text and Photography © Jim Robertson, 2013.

 

Humans Suddenly Get It, Go Vegan En Masse

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The species Homo sapiens woke up this morning to a sudden collective realization that they are plant eating primates, not some Tyrannosaurus-like super predators. Instantly, as if waking with a start from a bad dream, it came to each and every human at exactly 8:00 a.m. that all their problems would be solved if they changed their carnivorous ways.

By day’s end, with the whole of humanity now born again vegan, people begin to feel better than ever—revitalized—with a glow of guilt-free contentment. World hunger eases and peace seems actually attainable since folks have moved beyond their self-centered lust for animal flesh. And the once hunted and farmed animals rejoice, knowing that fleshy two-leggers are over their foolish power trip and are now treating them with fairness and respect.

It’s been a long time coming and not a moment too soon. Starting today, winter solstice, December 21st, 2013 will be known as Happy Vegan Day, a time when all people exchange cruelty-free gifts in honor of the glorious occasion.

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(This has been another installment in EtBG’s “Headlines We’d Like to See.”)

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Santa Grants Dying Child’s One Wish, Sends Hunters to Hell

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Jolly old Santa Claus used his in with the Man upstairs when he granted a terminally ill boy’s one Christmas wish. When the child told Santa all he wanted for Christmas was peace on earth, the kindly do-gooder intuitively knew where to begin to achieve this objective and asked, “How about if I get rid of all the sport hunters?” This pleased the1477971_417250565045005_342857083_n boy, so Santa (who has a soft spot for the innocents, like children and animals) put a finger to the side of his nose and sent the hunters straight to Hell.

So if the days seem quieter and the nights more peaceful now, be sure to thanks Santa Claus by setting out an extra glass of hemp milk and plenty of vegan cookies.

And any of you budding young “sportsmen” who got a new hunting rifle, Duck Dynasty tee shirt or entry into the Salmon, ID Youth Wolf and Coyote Derby for Christmas can thank your fathers when you catch up with them in Hell.

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(This has been another installment in EtBG’s “Headlines We’d Like to See.”)

Idaho Wolf and Coyote Derby Hunters Shoot Themselves in the Collective Foot, Have it Amputated

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Like me, you’re probably getting fed up with mainstream media’s coverage of wildlife issues lately. Although hunters make up a paltry 6% of the country’s overall population, every source, from the nightly news to Time magazine has been reporting on hunters’ atrocities against animals like a bunch of star-struck, goo-goo eyed fans, rather than impartial journalists.

Why else would news of a “contest” hunt for coyotes and wolves planned for December 28th in Salmon, ID, go unnoticed on the media’s radar screen?

You can bet if Justin Bieber (whoever the hell that is) stepped in dog crap, they’d be all over that shit.

But when an endangered species makes a bit of a comeback only to provide “recreational hunting opportunities” for psychopaths bent on their renewed extermination, they give it the coverage they would a company picnic.

That’s why Exposing the Big Game (ETBG) is starting a new series: “Headlines We’d Like to See” (based on Mad Magazine’s “Scenes We’d Like to See.”) Watch for installments over the coming weeks…

Anyway, getting back to my original point, adding wolves to the cast of potential derby victims should indeed shoot Idaho hunters in the collective foot—figuratively, if not literally.

Text and Wildlife Photography ©Jim Robertson, 2013. All Rights Reserved

Text and Wildlife Photography ©Jim Robertson, 2013. All Rights Reserved

You Nauseate me Mr. Fudd

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The following is a marriage between the Looney Tunes’ cartoon character who best depicts the average hunter and Dr. Seuss’ lyrics that so perfectly describe them.

Dedicated to Elmers and Elmerttas everywhere …

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You’re a mean one, Mr. Fudd.
You really are a heel,
You’re as cuddly as a cactus, you’re as charming as an eel, Mr. Fudd.
You’re a bad banana with a greasy black peel!

You’re a monster, Mr. Fudd.
Your heart’s an empty hole.
Your brain is full of spiders, you have garlic in your soul, Mr. Fudd.
I wouldn’t touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole!

You’re a vile one, Mr. Fudd.
You have termites in your smile.
You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile,
Mr. Fudd.
Given the choice between the two of you,
I’d take the seasick crocodile.

You’re a foul one, Mr. Fudd.
You’re a nasty wasty skunk.
Your heart is full of unwashed socks;
Your soul is full of gunk,
Mr. Fudd.

The three words that best describe you
Are as follows, and I quote:
Stink!
Stank!
Stunk!

You’re a rotter, Mr. Fudd.
You’re the king of sinful sots.
Your heart’s a dead tomato squashed with moldy purple spots,
Mr. Fudd.

Your soul is an appalling dump heap
Overflowing with the most disgraceful
Assortment of deplorable rubbish imaginable,
Mangled up in tangled up knots.

You nauseate me, Mr. Fudd,
With a noxious super naus.
You’re a crooked jerky jockey and
You drive a crooked horse,
Mr Fudd!

imagesQB1DEJITYou’re a three-decker sauerkraut
And toadstool sandwich,
With arsenic sauce!

How the Grinch Stole Hunting Season

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….It’s that time of year again….

 

Every hunter

Down in Hunt-ville

Liked hunting season a lot…

But the Grinch,

Who lives just North of Hunt-ville,

Did NOT!

The Grinch hated hunting! The whole hunting season!

Now, please don’t ask why. There are many good reasons.

It could be because hunter’s heads aren’t screwed on quite right.

It could be, perhaps, that their belts are too tight.

But I think that the most likely reason of all

May be that their hearts (and other parts) are two sizes too small.

“They’re cleaning their guns!” the Grinch snarled with a sneer.grinch

“Tomorrow is hunting season! It’s practically here!”

Then he growled, with his Grinch fingers nervously drumming,

“I MUST find a way to keep hunting season from coming!”

For, tomorrow, he knew…

…All the Hunt-girls and boys

Would wake up bright and early. They’d rush for their toys!

Their rifles, their shotguns—all things that destroy!

And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!

That’s one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

Then they’d carve up the body of some unfortunate beast,

Which was something the Grinch couldn’t stand in the least!

And they’d feast! And they’d feast!

And they’d FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!

I MUST stop hunting season from coming!

…But HOW?”

Then he got an idea!

A brilliant idea!

THE GRINCH

GOT A WONDERFUL, BRILLIANT IDEA!

“I know just what to do!” The Grinch laughed in his throat.

And he made a quick Santy Claus hat and a coat.

And he chuckled, and clucked, “What a great Grinchy trick!

With this coat and this hat, I’ll look just like Saint Nick

And I’ll slide down their chimneys, empty bags in my fist,

AND I’LL STEAL ALL THEIR FUCKING AMMO!”