A Skunk with feathers? Danged right...thoughts and musings of just such a skunk, one that learned how to type, conjugate verbiage and communicate thought processes easier than lifting the tail to scatter the opposition. It doesn't always work with 419 email scammers or the pathetically politically correct (which readers will find I ain't). For them, the tail gets lifted, and they get sprayed. *DISCLAIMER*: sometimes, it doesn't pay to drink or eat while reading this h'yar. Just sayin'...
Everchanging by time of day and weather.
Even pioneers 200 years ago came upon this vista and remarked, "what are those things driving on, and why aren't we?"
Then again, pioneers never suffered a 7-11 burrito, either.
The buffalo were thankful.
Labels: I-70 west of Denver
posted by Skunkfeathers at 02:00
6 comments
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In da woids of Popeye, "I yam what I yam". Personally, I hate yams, but I digress (often)...I take life as it comes, put a little milk on it, and give it to my pet rock, 'cuz I hate that cereal. Ack...I write. About email scams, my own misadventures, and about my view of life in general. My pet rock, Seymour, yawns continuously...
