Kinky Endorses Woodrow the Dog; Mooner’s Feelings Hurt

Welcome back guys. I enjoyed my visit to west Texas but I am glad to get back home. I want to tell you all about my time we spent in Tea Party-ville, but first I want to inform you about something that has developed outside of my sphere of influence. I am discouraged that I didn’t know about any of this but like Gram says, she said, “Who gives a shit Mooner. Now ya know so quit yer yappin.”

What sticks in my craw is that Dixie has known for quite awhile and with everything I have done for Kinky over the last few years, I at least should have been e-mailed or something. I know Kinky is a big deal and he’s busy, but I have stuck my neck out for the Kinkster on several occasions. Maybe I sticked my neck out because it was more than once, or maybe I sticks my neck outs.

How would you say it if you had multiple necks?

Whatever, I was surprised to get back and read my e-mails this afternoon and find that Kinky is endorsing a local dog for Governor in a big write-in campaign for this fall’s election. A local attorney saved a pooch from the gallows and turns out the dog is far smarter than Rick Perry and has a better stage presence than my current voting choice, Democratic Candidate Bill White. I would vote for my favorite pair of old socks before I’d cast a ballot for that Republican shitball religious-right Baptist puppet, Rick Perry.

Wouldn’t wash the smelly old socks first either, and they’d still make a better leader than Rick Perry. At least when they stand up they stand up on their own.

And speaking to that, the Governor’s namesake three-hundred pound African bird has gotten himself in deep trouble out to the ranch. Seems that while I was gone the ostrich Rick Perry got frisky and tried to get sexy with Aunt Hilda’s shrunken head-in-a-box, Woodrow. Aunt Hilda has been laid-up to bed since it happened late Sunday night and Gram put a $10,000 reward on Ricky’s poofy-feathered ass.

What that means to me is that the giant bird and that fat pig Rush Limbaugh will remain in the closet until this all blows over. But I am digressing the shit out of us. My ADHD went all fritzy in the car on the way back from Fort Davis and I’m still not right yet. As soon as we got home I grabbed a six pack of cold Carta Blanca beer and headed out to the tomato patch before I even unloaded the car. I’m sitting here now, five beers later, and still I’ve got the brain fritz.

The fritzing is the result of playing Password with SAC Ellen, Dixie and the Squirt all the way from Fort Davis to Johnson City- more than 400 miles for you non-Texans. And, “No,” we aren’t related to those Johnsons. Since the dogs won’t talk to anyone but me, I was serving like I guess what you would call a guest moderator/participant-interpreter. Not only was I someone’s partner for each word, I also had to translate every clue and each guess for the entire game.

As if that isn’t enough to induce serial murder after 450 miles, the Squirt mixes her speech with a full dozen languages, some of which I don’t comprehend. Like we had this one word, “STING”. Did you know that Squirt can say, “Sting,” in forty different languages already? I didn’t, do now and still don’t give a shit.

But I did kind of like the Swahili way to say it- “Kuumwa.” Swahili is one of those sexy, musical languages that make me want to get married.

I wonder if the word “koombaya” is Swahili.

Anyway, that stupid Rick Perry grabbed Woodrow’s mahogany box- snatched from the ample lap of a surprised Aunt Hilda, and took off for the barn. By the time he was chased away the box was all scratched and dented and Aunt Hilda was a mess.

Have you ever seen an ostrich run full-out?

Gram wants to kill him but I think that the ostrich Rick Perry fell in love with Woodrow because Woodie’s dried-out, 150-year-old shrunken brain is larger, by far, than anything that bird has ever known. Ostriches, like Rick Perry, have very small brains.

I always try to date up in the brain power department myself, so I understand his going for Woodrow and his larger brain.

Now you might be thinking that I am digressing your distractions to sub-distractions of their own, but you would be wrong. You are wrong because the dog’s name, the one running against Rick Perry for Governor, his name is Woodrow as well.

Small world, but I am still pissed at Kinky for dropping out of the race himself. He has royally screwed with the plot of my first book and made me look like I fabricated a bunch of shit for artistic purposes. Since my book was written as a real-time dialog just like the bloggie here, the book was in post production when Kinky retired from the race, and that was after I made a bunch of publicity for him.

OK, I’m not mad at him, just disappointed.

So. Go to www.votewoodrow.org and for a $20.00 donation you can help Austin Pets Alive and even get a free tee shirt if you want. Your donations will help abandoned pets find a good home and avoid the needle.

Maybe Austin Pets Alive would like to linker-up with me here to the webber and bloggie for a little cross pollination.

I’ll tell you more about all of this but I’m too tired to focus. I keep thinking about how I almost got in trouble out to west Texas and about how I am really glad I’m dating a Special Agent from Homeland Security and now I’m thinking about how she looks when she gets all sexed up and I need another beer.

I’m pooped- manana.

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3 Responses to “Kinky Endorses Woodrow the Dog; Mooner’s Feelings Hurt”

  1. Dog names says:

    Woodrow is not a dog name, definitely.

  2. admin says:

    Thanks for the comment. You don’t have to pass a test to name your dog. Hell, you don’t have to pass a test to own one. Too bad!

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