I came home a little early today, and my cats, Fishfork 
and Birdcup , were watching the Weather Channel instead of one of their usual favorites. As I plopped down on the couch, the following exchange ensued:
Birdcup: Look at these weather jackasses. How do they sleep at night? It's not like they ever get the weather right?"
Fishfork: Oh, please, DO go on and on about it.
Birdcup: I'm just saying: they never get it right. What they ought to do is just record one of these idiots predicting a 30% chance of four or five different weather phenomena and saying that there's a good chance it'll be windy later because we live way out here on the lid of Hell. The Weather Channel could just play that tape over and over every day, and they'd be right just about as often as they are now. Christ! I could do a better job with divination!
FatDavid8: With what?
Birdcup: Divination.
FatDavid8: Is that like a theocracy?
Fishfork: Oh, get stuffed! You can't be that stupid.
Birdcup: You are such a tool. I can't believe you get to use the can opener without supervision. Where's the MausFrau when you need her? "Divination", for the hard-of-thinking here on the couch, is the practice of ascertaining information, often about the future, from supernatural sources through various ritual practices. For example, some peoples have believed the future could be read in seeming patterns in random phenomena and practiced sortilege, which usually entailed the casting of lots with sticks, stones, bones, beans, or some other item.
Fishfork: What in Hell have you been reading, B.?
FatDavid8: Hey, girls, using sortilege sounds like a great idea. I'll tell you what: I'm going to start jerking it to the weather babes, and then I'll predict the weather by reading the scatter of my man juices. Here, check this out: I'll tell you what tomorrow morning's weather'll be in just a couple of minutes.
thumpa-thumpa-thumpa-thumpa-oh yeah, baby-thumpa-thumpa
Fishfork: Dude!
Birdcup: Dude! Gross!
Fishfork: We're not even 4 years old, you sick barrel of monkey spunk! No way we should be seeing this!
the girls hop down from the couch and head for the door
FatDavid8: Wait! Wait! I'm almost there. My god! Look at the weathergirl hairdo on that saucy minx!
Birdcup: I'm going to go call the ASPCA.
FatDavid8: Oh yeah! Oh yeah! OH YEAH! Unh! . . . Hey, where'd you go? Don't you want to know what tomorrow morning's weather's going to be? It looks like it'll be widely scattered fog . . . a really thick, viscous, pearlescent scattered fog . . . that smells like over-cooked asparagus.
and Birdcup , were watching the Weather Channel instead of one of their usual favorites. As I plopped down on the couch, the following exchange ensued:
Birdcup: Look at these weather jackasses. How do they sleep at night? It's not like they ever get the weather right?"
Fishfork: Oh, please, DO go on and on about it.
Birdcup: I'm just saying: they never get it right. What they ought to do is just record one of these idiots predicting a 30% chance of four or five different weather phenomena and saying that there's a good chance it'll be windy later because we live way out here on the lid of Hell. The Weather Channel could just play that tape over and over every day, and they'd be right just about as often as they are now. Christ! I could do a better job with divination!
FatDavid8: With what?
Birdcup: Divination.
FatDavid8: Is that like a theocracy?
Fishfork: Oh, get stuffed! You can't be that stupid.
Birdcup: You are such a tool. I can't believe you get to use the can opener without supervision. Where's the MausFrau when you need her? "Divination", for the hard-of-thinking here on the couch, is the practice of ascertaining information, often about the future, from supernatural sources through various ritual practices. For example, some peoples have believed the future could be read in seeming patterns in random phenomena and practiced sortilege, which usually entailed the casting of lots with sticks, stones, bones, beans, or some other item.
Fishfork: What in Hell have you been reading, B.?
FatDavid8: Hey, girls, using sortilege sounds like a great idea. I'll tell you what: I'm going to start jerking it to the weather babes, and then I'll predict the weather by reading the scatter of my man juices. Here, check this out: I'll tell you what tomorrow morning's weather'll be in just a couple of minutes.
thumpa-thumpa-thumpa-thumpa-oh yeah, baby-thumpa-thumpa
Fishfork: Dude!
Birdcup: Dude! Gross!
Fishfork: We're not even 4 years old, you sick barrel of monkey spunk! No way we should be seeing this!
the girls hop down from the couch and head for the door
FatDavid8: Wait! Wait! I'm almost there. My god! Look at the weathergirl hairdo on that saucy minx!
Birdcup: I'm going to go call the ASPCA.
FatDavid8: Oh yeah! Oh yeah! OH YEAH! Unh! . . . Hey, where'd you go? Don't you want to know what tomorrow morning's weather's going to be? It looks like it'll be widely scattered fog . . . a really thick, viscous, pearlescent scattered fog . . . that smells like over-cooked asparagus.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
voile:
Uh oh... have ...spasm... in.... arm... must lift it straight out and to the left at a slightly-above-ninety degree angle! Ahhhh there we go... cramp's gone. 
_biblia_:
poke one of those blowhards with a toothpick and let me know how that turns out.