Yeah, you had to know it.
It was all about the rum.
polar bear
Holy crap, is that a washing machine?
My Fellow Inebriates,
Typically I don’t go anywhere near the laundry room. Hell, my parents barely go in there. Which machine is more terrifying, I couldn’t tell you, but given my low chances of surviving the washer, the dryer’s horrors seem academic. In other words, when the inestimable Christine posted this video about a washing machine on my FB page, I was afraid.
But she’s Christine, right? Christine, who last came over with a canvas bag of Highland Park 12 and other goodies? So I figured I should watch the video.
Remembering Glen
My Fellow Inebriates,
Today Scary and I resigned ourselves to the worst. Our good friend Glen, family member since 2004, is not here. He’s not in the house. He’s not at school. He’s not at a neighbor’s. He’s not at Nana & Papa’s. He’s just gone.
What made him leave, we’ll never know. Perhaps if we’d noticed, we could have stopped him. But, heavily insulated as he is, he padded out of LBHQ unheard and unseen, and disappeared forever.
Scary says he’s probably been shot with a crossbow. He says that’s what happens to polar bears who enter Walmart-shadowed suburban areas. No one would have called the SPCA, but somebody with a big-ass truck and a hundred tats would have jumped on the chance to take down an amazing animal like Glen.
Glen.
Good-bye, then
Good-bye, Glen
Good-bye bear bounding off to his den
Good-bye, sir
And his winter fur
Good-bye paws
Good-bye claws
Good-bye cuddles
Good-bye snuggles
Good-bye tumbles
Good-bye bumbles
Good-bye pounces
Good-bye bounces
Good-bye furry mug
Good-bye old lug
Good-bye to the bear we used to hug
♥ ♥ ♥
Said Scary:
“Of my friend I can only say this: Of all the souls I have encountered in my travels, his was the most…ursine.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Said Blackie:
“I can’t ever drink vodka again. Vodka was Glen’s favorite. It’s just too painful.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Said Carnivorous Duck:
