BDG's Latest (Family) Business Expansion

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aka, Green and Yellow and the Red Balloon



This is a follow up to the post of October 20, 2010, where I surmised the beginning of a new illegal business by Lyin' Lynda, Resectioned Red, and Cork-Screwed.)

The Barefoot Dirty Girls were busy this weekend - but not moving. As I predicted, the scenes of cars, trucks, and trailers convoys moving more shit off the property were just stage props for Lyin' Lynda to practice her fevered incantations and other office party games, like that old chestnut, "Gossip." (Her entire life has been a lie!)

The Kid and his pa came over several days to help Lyin' Auntie Lyn, and "Auntie" Red, and "Auntie" Cork-Screwed with the façade of activity. Bubba and Bubba Lite (you know, twice the size! half the calories!) schlepped a bunch of boxes to truck and trailer, ferried the junk elsewhere, and puttered around the yard, taking orders from the howlet-faced general like good little soldiers.

But man's and boy's real purpose was to build a wooden screen fence to block off the view of the marijuana sheds from the west, north, and east. (Aww, Fudge! Those just happen to be the sides viewable from the street, from my property, and from Sierra High School.) This will greatly ease the BDGs' smuggling of people and product in and out of the MJ Sheds, allowing them to train, grow, and distribute with less chance of detection.

That is, of course, unless they move... and have to turn the operation over to someone else. Who else could these baked dopey women trust to follow their orders better than blood kin? The scenario looks like this:

• Take up long term residence elsewhere (not yet done)
• Flood their property with guard dogs and surveillance (already done)
• Set up the most kick-ass grow operation possible (pretty close)
• Move a fall guy scion into place, trained in herbiculture and harvesting (but whom?)
• Distribution - pretend they are Celia Hodes, "Weeds" character (done, done, and over done)
• Hone their NsFH skills (baked to perfection)
• Smoke happy grass happily ever after, or until their pea-brains are toasted (almost there!)

Sounds heavenly, huh?

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Nuts shaken from the TLC family tree






The Keekin' Glass

How daur ye ca' me 'Howlet-face',
Ye blear-e'ed, wither'd spectre?
Ye only spied the keekin' glass,
An' there ye saw your picture.

(Robert Burns)













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Rabbie Burns' "Rhyming Wrath" Bloodies Boneheads

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From fifteen, "When I first committed the sin of rhyme,"
to "Stringing blethers up in rhyme/ for fools to sing."

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On Politics, For Candidates

In politics if thou would'st mix,
And mean thy fortunes be;
Bear this in mind - be deaf and blind,
Let great folks hear and see.

(Poem, 1793)

In Manteca, that means acceptable candidates must hold membership in the Good Ol' Boys Club, 'cause those "great folks" run the city for their own benefit.

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"Burns was not fond of civil servants either. He particularly disliked a man called Thomas Goldie, a commissary of the sherriff-court in Dumfries and the President of a right wing political club called 'The Loyal Natives' whose political views were anathema to a democrat like Burns. So he wrote this quatrain about Thomas Goldie's lack of brains and the thickness of his skull!"

Lord, to account who does Thee call,
Or e'er dispute Thy pleasure?
Else why within so thick a wall
Enclose so poor a treasure?

(from "Burns the Improviser", by Robert H. Carnie)


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On a local political contest
(with a slight amendment to the intended)

What dost thou in that mansion fair?
Flit, [BDG], and find
Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave,
The picture of thy mind.


No Stewart art thou, [BDG],
The Stewarts all were brave;
Besides, the Stewarts were but fools,
Not one of them a knave.


Bright ran thy line, O [BDG],
Thro' many a far-fam'd sire!
So ran the far-fam'd Roman way,
So ended in a mire.


Spare me thy vengeance, [BDG]!
In quiet let me live:
I ask no kindness at thy hand,
For thou hast none to give.

(Epigrams Against The Earl Of Galloway, 1793)

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On Wat

Sic a reptile was Wat,
Sic a miscreant slave,
That the vera' worms damn'd [her]
When laid in [her] grave;

"In [her] flesh there's a famine,"
A starved reptile cries,
"And [her] heart is rank poison!"
Another replies.

(Epitaph for Walter Riddell, 1794)

Forget Walter Riddell! I think "Wat" is Lyin' Lynda Sue Allen!

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Two Poems on Quisling Arrogance

The Toad-Eater

What of [mayors] with whom you have supt,
And of [chiefs] that you dined with yestreen?
Lord! A louse, [lass], is still but a louse,
Though it crawl on the curl of a queen.

(Poem, 1791, Cunningham version, altered)

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Reply to the True "Loyal Natives"
(redirected to those immediate fools, the Barefoot Dirty Girls)

Ye [impugned “Grandfathered,”] attend to my song,
In [drug-hazed conniving] rejoice the night long;
From Envy or Hatred your corps is exempt,
But where is your shield from the darts of Contempt?

(Poem, 1793)

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Epitaph On A Noisy Polemic*

Below thir stanes lie [Lynda's] banes:
O Death, it's my opinion,
Thou ne'er took such a bleth'rin bitch
Into thy dark dominion!

(Epitaph, 1784)

* po·lem·ic (n) A person engaged in or inclined to controversy, argument, or refutation. (adj) of or relating to a controversy, argument, or refutation.

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"Burns had another talent that is not so often celebrated, and that is his ability, to compose, 'off the cuff' and apparently without much previous thought, little snatches of verse - two, four , eight or 16 lines - which commemorate, celebrate, or excoriate some event or experience in his own life. ... As he puts it in one of his less well known poetic epistles:"

Some rhyme a neebor's name to lash;
Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash;
Some rhyme to court the countra clash
And raise a din;
For me, an aim I never fash;
I rhyme for fun.

(from "Burns the Improviser", by Robert H. Carnie)

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from THE KIRK'S ALARM, A BALLAD.

Calvin's sons, Calvin's sons,
Seize your spiritual guns,
Ammunition ye never can need;
Your hearts are the stuff,
Will be powder enough,
And your skulls are a storehouse o' lead,
Calvin's sons,
And your skulls are a storehouse o' lead.

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Letter to Mr. Cunningham

"[To Clarke, the Schoolmaster, Burns, it is said, addressed several letters, which on his death were put into the fire by his widow, because of their license of language.]"

11th June, 1791.


... God help the teacher, if a man of sensibility and genius, and such is my friend Clarke, when a booby father presents him with his booby son, and insists on lighting up the rays of science, in a fellow's head whose skull is impervious and inaccessible by any other way than a positive fracture with a cudgel: a fellow whom in fact it savours of impiety to attempt making a scholar of, as he has been marked a blockhead in the book of fate, at the almighty fiat of his Creator.

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My lament and resolve:

Fickle Fortune

Though fickle Fortune has deceived me,
She promis’d fair and perform’d but ill:
Of mistress, friends and wealth bereav’d me,
Yet I bear a heart shall support me still.-


I’ll act with prudence as far’s I’m able,
But if success I must never find,
Then come misfortune, I bid thee welcome,
I’ll meet thee with an undaunted mind.

(Poem, fragment, 1782)

"Prometheus" by Franz von Stuck




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