Another blog, another Sunday...

I HAD A WOODPECKER THIS MORNING...
On my bird feeder, that is!  Cute little bugger, too.  It's amazing to listen to birds chowing down on bird food—they make almost the same exact sound as Rice Krispies floating in milk...

COULDN'T POSSIBLY BE TRUE!
As I scan the current beisbol standings, I can't help but note that the Kansas Shitty Royals (for whom winning is a hobby rather than a serious pursuit) have the one more win than the defending champeen St. Louie Cardinals.  True, the Cards have four games in hand with the Royals, buuuut there's still something most definitely wrong with this picture!

UNCLEAR OF THE CONCEPT, YET AGAIN?
I've seen a shitload of TV ads this weekend about law enforcement types who are cracking down on folks not wearing seat belts.  A noble effort, to be sure, but call me stupid—why are they tipping their collective hands (and wasting a shitload of money too) with this worthless "Click It Or Ticket" TV campaign?  Seems to me that the element of surprise would be far more effective in nailing folks for not buckling up...

BUMPER STICKER OF THE WEEK
"Blind faith in bad leaders is NOT patriotism!"  Amen, brother, amen!  On the same car was a bumper sticker that read "Irate Moderate on board—What happened to my country?"  I tend to relate to that attitude...

THE TRUTH HURTS
Kudos from me to staff writer David Martin of our local K.C. alternative paper The Pitch for his feature on the city of Raytown's paranoid efforts to keep Wal-Mart from closing its existing Raytown store and building a new one outside the city limits.  Even though I'm a lifelong Raytown resident (apart from the nine months I lived in St. Joseph whilst toiling in the radio toilet at KKJO), I was not the least bit offended by the following line submitted by Mr. Martin:  "With a downtown that even Greensburg tornado victims might find depressing, Raytown is spending its resources on Highway 350, the auto slum that hastened the central business district's death spiral."  Absolutely fucking accurate, Mr. Martin!  There was a point last summer when I was ready to start up a new charity—the W.W.F.R. Fund (Weed Whackers For Raytown)—because the city was apparently unable to keep up with the grass growing between the cracks of its own sidewalks!

I don't mind telling you, folks, I'm more than a tad embarrassed to admit I live in Raytown these days, and our backward-ass redneck reputation isn't undeserved.  The big problem is the Baptists own half of the damn city, and these people are hellbent on making sure that Raytown should remain like Mayberry forever, and that we should party like it's 1959 instead of becoming a fairly modern suburb like our thriving neighbors to the east, Lee's Summit and Blue Springs.  I'm amazed that I can even buy beer in this Puritanical excuse of a suburb...