where wildly different is perfectly normal
Meat on a truck
Meat on a truck

Meat on a truck

(Oooh, Google searchers are going to have a field day with that title)

Yes, you know it’s spring in my neighborhood when that weird guy and his crew knocks on your door to sell you, and I couldn’t possibly make this up, meat on a truck. WTF? I don’t eat at McDonald’s because I don’t know where the food is from, I’m sure as hell not buying meat off the back of your pickup! I’d rather slaughter my own cow. Sorry, dude.

It sure feels like spring the last few days. It’s in the high sixties/low seventies, sunny, light breeze. But it’s not really spring, the sweet, innocent spring of April and May. No, this spring is a cheap harlot, flashing her early buds (I’m driving the search engines crazy today!) for a quick thrill. This spring is especially daring this year, with daylight saving time coming early. She thinks she can get away with this behavior, because we’re used to late sun in the afternoon coming mid-April. Brazen hussy. But she’ll get her daffodils frozen off, because if there’s something I’ve learned in the nearly 10 years I’ve lived here, it’s that we will get a significant snowstorm in April. And then true spring will come. And will come with severe seasonal allergies. Which have shown up this week to samba with the whore spring.

But no amount of allergy meds messing with my mind are going to get me to buy meat off a truck.

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