RAIN IN MAINE AND RACOONS



We have had over a week of continual rain here in western Maine. Perhaps I should contemplate building an ark. But then, I don’t have the longevity of Noah. According to the Bible Noah lived to an age of nine-hundred and fifty years – he didn’t start building the ark until he was six hundred years old and it took him one hundred and twenty years. Even disregarding collecting two animals of every species in the world including insects; this is a story that would be too weird for the Brothers Grimm.

I marvel how gullible people can become when it comes to religions: Jesus walking on water – the bread and fishes, and Mohammed flying to Jerusalem on the back of a horse.

Yesterday I discovered the monster that has been steeling my bird feeders. Three feeders in the past two weeks have disappeared. Yesterday the last feeder was missing from a tree behind the house, but due to the heavy rains we have been experiencing the culprit left a visible trail to follow through the alders and ferns. About twenty-five yards into the rough I found the discarded feeder and the trail continued on deeper into the brush. The ground was too wet to distinguish tracks, but I eliminated bear because even in the mush a bear would have left a heavy tread.



I have a feeder mounted in a chimney block that is too heave to move; so last evening I loaded it up with sun flower seeds. Being in my seventh decade I get up through the night about every three hours to pee and last night I made it a point to switch on the spotlights mounted on the back of the house. Sure enough a big raccoon was sitting on the feeder trying to get the top off.

I could - I am quite capable - but I don’t kill animals any more. Steeling food is the nature of a raccoon and I hold him no malice. Even though I have lost about thirty dollars worth of feeders, I have to admit I have enjoyed the mystery and speculation, trying to determine what type of animals would tear down feeders wired to tree limbs and actually haul them away.

Now I have to find out if I can outsmart a raccoon.

the Ol'Buzzard

MONSTER AT MY BIRD FEEDER

I am use to squirrels stealing from my bird feeders.   As a matter of fact, I have one feeder on a pole that I make easy access for the squirrels.   

Animals have to eat and they forage according to their nature.

But, lately something has been pulling down my feeders and to prevent this I wired my hanging feeders to the trees with coat hangers.   

Last night some monster ripped down one of my feeders and carried it off.   I have searched the surrounding woods and so far have not found it.   

I looked for tracks: a bear - big raccoon - do zombies eat sunflower seeds?   

Thinking about my  last post: this is Stephen King's Maine...

Maybe I don't want to know.
the Ol'Buzzard

SEX IN BLUEBERRY FIELDS

Before we were married my wife and I had sex every chance and every where. We christened mini-cars, vans, trucks, teepees, tents, motels, and even a church. Winter, spring, summer, fall – if we were indoors or outdoors it didn’t matter. If we were alone and the opportunity presented itself we were ready.

Now don’t get me wrong – we still have great sex; but standing knee deep in snow leaning against a tree – it’s not going to happen again.

Men’s and women’s libidos are different. As women pass child bearing age their interest in sex decreases. They still can have a great time in bed; but it is just not on their minds all the time.


Men on the other hand are ready 24/7 – regardless of age. Some men who have medical problems or are married to someone who is less than attractive may need pharmaceutical help – but on the whole men are ready.

My wife is beautiful, sexy and feminine. She can walk into the house on a cold morning with her nipples showing beneath her blouse and I am ready to jump her bones on the living room floor – wishful thinking.   Just waking up next to her in the mornings, or the sight of her in something skimpy gets my motor running.

However, when I think about it from a woman’s point of view, I can understand their dilemma. Let’s face it: men aren’t pretty naked. I work out at the gym, and sometimes shower there. After seeing men’s hairy asses, pot bellies and hanging junk I can truthfully say that if I was a woman I would be a lesbian.

Again, I can’t speak for women; but I think Wanda Sykes probably has it nailed.   Check out the her Link:

Wands Sykes - The Dick is Dead

We men don’t need a little blue pill to keep us erect for four hours. What we would like to see is a little purple pill with a warning: Women – If you take this pill and find you have an uncontrollable, wild desire to have vigorous, passionate sex for more that four hours at a time: see a doctor immediately.

the Ol'Buzzard

WARNING! DO NOT VACATION IN MAINE!

My wife and I were watching LONGMIRE, the sheriff of Absaroka County, Wyoming; a character created by Craig Johnson and now a new series on A&E TV.

During a commercial I commented that considering that there was at least one violent murder in this small rural county every week - why the hell would anyone want to live there?

My wife laughed and pointed out that we live in Maine and in Jessica Fletcher’s Cabot Cove there were up to two or more murders every week day; and that Cabot Cove would have to be the murder capital of the world – per capita – according to Murder She Wrote. The only reason that there is still people left in Cabot Cove is that clam diggers and lobster fishermen must breed like rabbits.

And of course she is right. And then there is Stephen King.

Thanks to Stephen King, if you traveled through Chamberlain, Maine near Lisbon you might run into Carrie White; who covered in pig’s blood could wreak unbelievable mayhem on you.

North of Brunswick, at Salem’s Lot, you could find yourself in the scariest vampire story ever written (If you sat through movie version I feel sorry for you.)

Then near Bangor, in the town of Derry, you could happen on a clown that lives in the sewer - It is not a nice place to visit.

In Haven, a town of less than five thousand, supernatural deaths are as normal as a trip to Wal-Mart; and you might come down with the Tommyknockers’ disease that is caused by an alien space craft.

Let’s not forget the alien invasion in the great north woods near Millinocket where your only protection will be a Dream Catcher.

And, take this warning: whatever you do, don’t get into a red and white Plymouth Fury called Christine.

Even a woods vacation isn’t safe: for in the unincorporated township TR-90 you might find a Bag of Bones and the ghost of a blues singer haunting your cabin.

In western Maine, near where I live, you definitely don’t want to play sex games with your husband and allow him to hand cuff you, necked, to a bed in a rural cabin on a remote lake in late Fall of the year - for he might drop dead on the floor next to you and leave you in a real fix, as happened in Gerald’s Game.

Whatever your plans are please stay away from Castle Rock, near Freeport, when you are visiting L.L. Beans, for you never know if you will run into a rabid Saint Bernard named Cujo, or feel the need to buy some Needful Things at the local antique store – a real mistake.

This is only a small smattering of the danger of vacationing in Stephen King’s Maine. So, out-of-staters BEWARE!   We have every hazzard up here except zombies...Oops! 

if you go to Bangor stay away from the Pet Cemetary.

the Ol'Buzzard

MASTURBATING FETUS

The latest scientific findings from the Republican Party:  Abortion should be illegal because a fetus has feelings.   Proof that a fetus has feelings is that male fetus masturbates in-uteri.


You could never make this stuff up.


You have to pass a test to be a teacher; but any fool can become a Congressman – and is.

Republican Congressman Michael Burgess

The Ol’Buzzard

THE NSA IS NOT READING YOUR E-MAIL

The NSA is not reading your e-mails.  

A few days ago on Morning Joe on MSNBC one of the guest said that he set up a golf date with a friend on G-Mail and the next day he got advertisments in his e-mail for golf clubs.

The NSA is not reading your e-mail - GOOGLE is.

the Ol'Buzzard

ZOMBIES IN LOVE

How does it feel to be a zombie in love? Do I eat her brain or make love to her? The life of a zombie with sensitive feelings is not all cannibalism and a walk in the park. After all zombies have feelings too.

Or so Isaac Marion would have us believe in his first novel Warm Bodies. The title caught my eye last week at the local library and so I brought it home and placed it by my bed. Last night I picked it up and read the first half. It is not Anna Karenina or Doctor Zhivago but it is worth a read.



The Ol’Buzzard