Well, it's time for politicians to start getting serious about illegal immigrants again.  It's almost winter and their grass has stopped growing.  But, it's particularly nice in Washington these days.  I go every year just to watch the interns fall from the trees.  And speaking of Marxist loons, I went to see my psychiatrist, Dr. Demonic, the other day but he was tied up in the lab.  Really.  He was tied up.  He likes that kind of stuff.  His assistant, Inga, was busy dismembering a Tickle Me Elmo so I couldn't see her either.  She's 6 feet, 4 inches of Norwegian weight lifter.  What a gal!

     Inga told me recently that I should let my hair grow long.  I confided that at one time, it had been so but that ended the day I took my cat to the vet.  On the day in question, we were driving peacefully in front of our local university when Mr. Wiggles suddenly yowled and began running laps around the inside of the car.  He clawed the head rest.  He peed on the dashboard.  He bounced from window to window in an effort to find a way out but when that didn't work, he jumped on top of my head and dug his claws into my scalp.  I screamed like a little girl.

     "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!"

     I screamed.  I begged.  I pleaded.  I beat him with a salmon (yes, I keep one in the glove compartment).  I grabbed him by the hair of his back and tried to pry him from my curly locks but also managed to hit the car's accelerator so I was weaving through traffic and terrified students like a drunken leprechaun on LSD.  I was on the sidewalk, off the sidewalk, on the jogging track and back on the sidewalk, all the while shouting obscenities and screaming,

     "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!"

     As I passed an elderly professor, she screeched, "He's crazy!  He's crazy!  But what a nice hat."

     I finally got satan's spawn calmed down and came to a stop but some of the students were very angry.  Go figure.  At least they didn't have a yowling buzz saw in their hair.  They wanted to know why I would do this to their school.

     "Aren't you proud?  Don't you have school spirit?" they asked.

     I explained that I was never long on school spirit.  My forte was school spirits.  Bourbon, gin, home brew from the science lab.  I had it stashed in my locker, in my trombone, taped under the Assistant Principal's desk and in Gladys Splegnaf's van.  I liked Gladys.  Lovely girl.  She was born with three ears so she could hear a mouse flatulate in a coffee can.  I loved that mouse.  But, I haven't had coffee since.  Her parents were former carnival people.  They could eat glass, toss a midget and guess your weight all at the same time.

     My psychiatrist says I make these things up just to get attention.  So, I decided that maybe I should get his attention.  I sneaked over to his house, stuffed Mr. Wiggles in his toilet and shut the lid.  All we needed then was the predictable midnight run.  I have video.

     For more, go to my site, diggerdan.kitty's-gettin'-a-cattle-prod-for-Christmas.

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