Thoughts from the ammo line

Early in 2025 Ammo Grrrll is already DOING MUCH BETTER. She writes

Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition — we are finally able to see 2024 in the rearview mirror. And in 17 days we will try to put our world back on its axis.

It is clear that we will have been gifted by the Vile Democrats (abbreviation: VD) with pathological lying about the true jobs report, the staggering extent of the illegal alien invasion, punishing inflation, and a Treasury full of – at best – IOUs, similar to what Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniels had in the briefcase at the end of Dumb and Dumber, instead of the $5M they had been trying to return to Mary in Colorado.

Lord only knows what is planned for the final minutes when the larceny already involves shoveling yet more billions into the dumpster fire that is Ukraine. It’s Biden’s last chance for 10 percent for The Big Guy as he shuffles out the door with a full diaper and enough ill-gotten gains to provide generational wealth for the entire Biden Crime Family.

Guys like Biden and criminals on cop shows always crow, “Prove it. You’ll never find it.” And my fondest hope is that Biden is now too senile to remember the passwords to his various overseas accounts and that Hunter has already spent most of the money stuffed in banks here on hookers and blow. A girl can dream.

On a somewhat lighter note, as we bid goodbye to the year that would not end, people will embrace many of the traditional New Year’s Resolutions:

LOSE WEIGHT
EXERCISE MORE
QUIT SMOKING
DRINK LESS
SAVE MORE MONEY
BUY MORE BOOKS FROM MAX COSSACK
(Just wanted to see if you were still listening…)
EAT HEALTHY
DRINK 8 GLASSES OF WATER A DAY, and the like,

I just received my subscription copy of Woman’s World, my health care bible, and have learned that THE diet paradigm for 2025 is going to be…wait for it…eating more protein, more “good fats” (I consider both Cream Gravy and donuts to be VERY good fats, but I didn’t see them on the list), and especially more fiber. LOTS more fiber. They want us to eat 30 grams of fiber a day, although they do caution us to “work up to that amount.” As I drink my Lima Bean, Raspberry, Flax Seed and Elm Bark Smoothie, I am checking into whether Amazon has a nice combination Computer Desk/Toilet.

At least, thank God, I was not tempted to go the Ozempic way. I have read a most disturbing thing about a sudden eye infection causing blindness being “linked” to use of Ozempic. Would that not be THE final insult to us lifelong yo-yo dieters? To suddenly lose 40 lbs. on Ozempic and then go blind so that you couldn’t even SEE your new slim self in the mirror or the small sizes on the labels in your new clothes? I hope and pray that that that information turns out to be in error.

Our left-wing elites are constantly admonishing conservatives to “Do better.” The arrogance behind such a phrase is astonishing. And I fear that I might slap silly anybody who ever said it to me.

But in an effort to meet their tough standards for “goodness,” I have been feeding the four feral cats (and a few of their best friends) I mentioned a month ago. And then I thought I CAN “do better”! So I started grinding up old bread and oats and grits and such to feed our neighborhood Quail. I just love that little Quail topknot.

And I learned that there is no way to confine pans of crumbs just to Quail. Dozens of mourning doves amass in ecstatic, loud anticipation every morning and if any is left little finches peck at what the doves have kicked out of the pan when they stand in it to eat.

Coveys from as far away as New Mexico have been arriving under the H1B Program. The coveys hate each other like Crips and Bloods, but so far there is Peaceful Coexistence between the Quails and the cats. But I did catch the yuge black tomcat we call Reacher eating out of the Quail pan. Who knew that cats liked dry stale bread?

I believe that my one chance for sainthood, starting with the handicaps of being Jewish and my personality, is to go for a reboot of St. Francis of Assisi. Only Frances with an “e” instead of an “I” and also St. Frances of Maricopa. The original animal-loving saint died at 44. But that could have been quite elderly in 1226.

Luckily, such a sweet man did not perish in the usual wretched manner of most saints. He was not even pecked to death. He died of something called “malignant malaria” and an eye infection. He had taken a vow of Christian poverty and God bless him for that. We had that poverty deal nailed when we first got married, but after a decade or so of it we strayed from the program, finding poverty to be, among other things, quite an inconvenience.

Joe believes that feeding every animal that comes onto our property is a return path to that poverty. But I have it figured out. A couple of years ago, give or take, I advised readers to stop using insanely overpriced Keurig cups and go for the little filters and your own tubs of coffee instead. I told Joe that I think I spend about the same amount of money on cat food and cat treats and cat toys and catnip and several daily loaves of bread as I used to spend on Keurig cups. So it’s really a wash monetarily. And he told me that is Girl Math, like claiming that you “saved” $100 when a $400 dress was on sale for $300.

So if the Catholics among us could put in a good word for me for sainthood…that would be just great. If Jill Biden can be a doctor, surely I can be a saint. I don’t imagine there’s a cash prize involved what with all that love of poverty? Maybe just a short little magnetized statuette to put on the dashboard of your car? And, I understand that you need a couple of miracles as well. Does the World’s Greatest Procrastinator meeting every Wednesday deadline for eleven years count as one miracle? What if I threw in several nice typing medals and Tactical Range Targets as well?