Ammo Grrrll offers up juicy LITTLE NUGGETS OF JOY. I think we can strike “LITTLE,” but that’s what she calls this one. She writes:
Some weeks are harder than others. We learn of grave difficulties that friends and relatives are facing. Serious, heart-wrenching things. It would be easy to give in to despair when there is so much suffering, especially when the political climate is frustrating as well.
It’s challenging to stay upbeat when an Obama-appointed bagman and judge says we taxpayers cannot punish flagrant, proud lawbreakers by cutting off their funds. Or when event after event with conservative speakers is either canceled or violently attacked. But despair is a dead end that leads to political impotence and further defeat. We must think of the Winter Soldiers of Valley Forge and find courage.
And never never lose our sense of humor. Humor is both a balm for us and our best weapon against the Left.
So it’s important to look for little nuggets of joy. I’m here to help. Some random nuggets:
Like finding out that the psychotic monsters of the Islamic State (that has nothing to do with Islam) who were about to attack the Kurds were set upon and killed by – wait for it – wild boars. Yes, a SWAT team of jihadi-gobbling PIGS. Three dead; five wounded. For all you people not bound by Jewish dietary laws, please, for me, have a BLT in celebration.
Though perhaps EATING a pig may not be the most appropriate response in this case, it does put me in mind of a great pig joke I include free of charge.
A traveling salesman ambles up the drive of a farm and sees a three-legged pig hopping about. He asks the farmer, “What’s the story here?” The farmer says, “Well, that’s a smart wonderful pig. He smelled smoke late one night, broke into the house and alerted us all to a fire. Saved our lives, that’s for sure.” “So, is that how he lost his leg, in the fire?” “Oh no, he was unscathed. But a pig that heroic, you can’t eat a pig like that all at once.”
Over the weekend, I put in my summer flowers – vincas – almost the only ones that can withstand Arizona’s maximum 120-degree heat. Gardening in and of itself is a little nugget of joy, but that’s not where I’m going with this.
The good news is that I got my jeans pretty dirty. Several Internet sites were recently abuzz with the forehead-smacking news that people are willing to pay Nordstrom up to $425 for dirty jeans. Ladies, or very short, genderfluid men, if you wear Size 6 jeans, I am willing to let mine go for HALF OF THAT!
BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE: there is also an authentic Biscuits and Gravy stain – well, just the gravy, biscuits don’t stain. AND there are three smallish, yet noticeable holes from clumsily-handled gun-cleaning solvent. It’s a Red State trifecta! You can pretend to be a blue collar worker, a shooter and a person who eats Southern comfort food instead of arugula, all for the reasonable price of just $212.50.
Act before midnight, and I will even throw in an impressive blood stain on a nice white shirt from my gun range. No, nobody shot me at the range. I got into an unintentional dust-up with a cactus in my yard. Which I lost. Badly. You can pretend to be an antifa rioter and say, “You should see the OTHER guy.”
Mr. AG has hundreds of grotesque old t-shirts with sweat stains so that you could pretend you lift weights or run, both of which he does, and both of which are a sweaty business in Arizona. Understand this about my dear husband, my friends. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, can be thrown away. Ever. So, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, the running shirts were once navy blue or black, though most have now faded to a nondescript greyish blue that matches everything. A steal at $100 apiece and boy, will he be surprised when they are gone and I finally get my Ed Brown 1911!
This could open up a whole line of awesome products for poseurs or ironic hipsters. For example, for liberal women who would like to pretend that they have had sex with Bill Clinton without all the mess, fuss, kneepads and outsized ChapStick budget, Nordy’s could come out with a line of pre-stained little blue dresses. Like the old Cabbage Patch dolls of yore that came with Adoption Papers, for just a little more, you could get a genuine fake Certificate of DNA.
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