Not a new comic book or TV series based on one, it's happening now:
Since perusing the newsworthy Facebook pages for the nonce, it occured to me that the Federal Bureau of Investigation may have been misnamed, and needs an immediate name change more in line with it's current (e)missions.
I propose that Agency be renamed F.E.T.I.S.H.
Federal Exterminators of Truthful Investigation Supporting Hillary.
Okay, it's kinda long for an agency name, but the acronym sticks the landing, eh?
Now, we also need to rename the class of citizens who support FETISH and their work.
I propose that these citizens forever more be referred to as:
D.I.A.P.E.R.(s) - Developmentally Interrupted Americans Pooping Everywhere Reachable. Of course, their lapel symbol is the DIAPER PIN (Personal Identification for Non-continents). Those pins are sometimes known as Safety Pins, but are completed with a jolly little pink or blue plastic head:
...after the first two, 22 years in the military and 25 fighting crime on the mean streets. Excuse the typesetting, I know it sucks (the new O/S).
I just figured out my third career: I will be Second Banana (straight-man) to various feline jokers. First, my cat never ties of trying to cadge me out of an extra meal after the gudwife feeds him and he has gobbled it down in the best Large Orange Cat tradition. He begs by his empty dish and I am tempted just to scoop up some kibble, but I usually ask the missus, whose usual reply is "Fed him two hours ago".
Second, my sweet old neighbor lady's cat, an indoor & outdoor cat. I have my parka on in the rain, doing the weekly garbage cart fill and positioning at the end of my driveway. This poor beast comes up to me, all wet, and begs me to let him in MY house to find some dry and warmth. I finish with the carts and trudge over to the neighbor's and ring her doorbell. On the way over there, the cat races ahead of me and hops up on the park bench on her well-sheltered stoop (we both have these benches for stoop-sitting). I observe numerous paw prints on the faded pain of the bench. When neighbor opens up, she says that she just let the cat out! She tries to get the cat into the house, but it moves a few feet away and snubs both of our offers for it's dry and warm shelter.
On my way next to the mailbox, it hits me: both of these cats know that I can be played for a chump. I think I will try to find an agent to rep me to the greater cat-world...
Nothing like a little Catholic humor to start the day. Cribbed from Facebook, only attributable to "Susan":
On their way to get married, a young Catholic couple is involved in a fatal car accident. They find themselves sitting outside the Pearly Gates, waiting for St. Peter to process them into Heaven. While waiting, they begin to wonder: Could they possibly get married in Heaven? When St. Peter shows up, they ask him. St. Peter says, "I don't know. This is the first time anyone has asked that. Let me go and find out."...and he leaves. The couple sit and wait, and wait. Two months pass and the couple is still waiting. As they wait, they discuss that if they were allowed to get married in Heaven, what was the eternal aspect of it all. "What if it doesn't work?" they wondered. "Are we stuck together forever?" After yet another month, St. Peter finally returns, looking somewhat bedraggled "Yes," he informs the couple, "You can get married in Heaven." "Great!" says the couple, "But we were just wondering, what if things don't work out? Can we also get a divorce in Heaven?" St. Peter, red-faced with anger, slams his clipboard onto the ground!! "What's wrong?" asks the frightened couple. "OH, COME ON!" St. Peter shouts, "It took me three months to find a priest up here! Do you have any idea how long it'll take me to find a lawyer?
A well respected doctor had sex with one of his female patients and felt guilty all day long. No matter how much he tried to forget about it, he just couldn't. The guilt and sense of betrayal of his patient was overwhelming.
But every once in a while he'd hear an internal, reassuring voice in his head that said: "Don't worry about it. You aren't the first medical practitioner to have sex with one of his patients and you won't be the last. And you're single. Just let it go."
But, invariably, another voice in his head would bring him back to reality, whispering: "You're a veterinarian, you sick bastard."
The holiday HAS been hijacked by commercial entities, and the hijacking gets worse all the time. Just this week, in the Mother's Day run-up, I noted that the price of Bacon had jumped 30%. Curious, I found out that this has to do with the Chinese, who had been bearish on our meat for a while, but, likely because of the schmoozing of President Trump, had agreed to start importing OUR BACON again. Supply & Demand says not enough to go around, there will be price rises.
So, on this Mother's Day, 2017, I am bearish on President Trump, because, BACON!
My Mom is dead, may her Soul Rest in Peace, and my daughter is entertaining her Mom today, and I'm not part of that, so I will have some Bacon for lunch by myself, thank you.