Geography, astronomy, music, history

On Monday, Benny and I saw the solar eclipse at a high school football field in the Idaho Cascades. A girl named Phoenix organized a big viewing festival with the local school STEM club, and there were telescopes and pinhole box viewers and hamburgers and European tourist families and a cute boy playing a soulful acoustic rendition of “I’m Sexy And I Know It” on his guitar and a big countdown to the totality that was off by a few seconds. It was pretty nice. There was a rundown trailer down the road with a brand-new Confederate flag hanging from it, but mostly there were people being happy and excited and community-minded. It was a good day.

This cartoon reminds me a little of the whole experience, I guess. Let’s see if we can outshine ignorance.

A minty mischief of rats

Benny and I are having our seasonal rat problem right now, and the current group of rats is driving me more insane than normal. The other night I found a fat one eating an apple in our fruit bowl in the kitchen, so (after screaming) I took all the apples and put them on the trash can lid for later disposal in the compost bin. Not an hour later, I found that one of the other apples had been knocked off the trash can lid and chewed upon. I don’t know how this creepy rat made it up the side of the metal trash can to do that, and I really didn’t like thinking about it.

Because I had read online that peppermint oil was a good rodent deterrent, the next day I soaked a number of cotton balls in peppermint oil and left the balls in the kitchen corners and near points of ingress/egress. After using up my current vial I went out to buy more peppermint oil, and when I got back the whole house was overpowered by the peppermint smell. A nauseating level of peppermint. When Benny got home his eyes started watering, and the dinner I made that night was terrible because I couldn’t taste or smell anything correctly. Of course later that night when I went to get a drink of water, I came across my fat rat friend running from one cottonball to a different cottonball with nary a care in the world.

So I threw the cottonballs away, Benny set a ton of traps, and I think we executed the main jerk by the next morning. Here’s hoping his minions got the message and will stop bothering us now.

Anyway, all of this was a rather long-winded way of saying that Peppermint Land is not the delight that it seems to be in this cartoon.

Screwy nuts

Does anybody have a lead on where I can get a bunch of dentures for free or cheap? I want to make a scary nut machine like the one in this cartoon.

Cannibals and cannonballs

Benny went to visit a friend of ours this week and I guess the conversation turned to our intermittent but rather disgusting pest problem, because Benny came back with our friend’s solution to cannibal rats in the home. If the previous sentence made you squeamish, you may want to turn back now.

The solution as presented to Benny was thus:

  1. Trap a rat in a standard snap trap.
  2. Await the cannibal rat who wants to eat the rat in the snap trap.
  3. Trap the cannibal rat in a cage.
  4. Feed him until he becomes very large.
  5. Release him back to where the rats hang out.
  6. Let him eat all the other rats.
  7. Problem solved.

Unfortunately, this plan doesn’t seem to me like it would be as smoothly executed as it is laid out, and furthermore I see a much different #7 in this scenario. I don’t think this is the plan for us.

I don’t think the plan for us is the one laid out in this cartoon either, however. Those mini cats are wasting much more food and causing much more damage than that tidy rat with his electric meat slicer.

Published in: on January 16, 2016 at 12:03 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Get along, li’l’ hot doggies

You may be expecting me to post a vintage technicolor cartoon with a bunch of rainbows in it today, and I would like to, but I think I’ve already posted all of those through the years.

Instead, I’m posting a black and white cartoon depicting a time not that very long ago when a gay duck couldn’t walk into a dog bar and sing a drunken song without getting a bottle broken over his head, let alone get married. We’ve come a long way, baby.

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