Axe Bunky

I’d never quite figgered out how to add a “contact us” clicky thingy to the home page of Tacky Raccoons. It really wasn’t at the top of my list of time wasting experiments, and I’d completely forgotten about it until Finnicky Penguin emailed me the Key to the WordPress Chamber of Secrets (more commonly known as the WordPress FAQ forum). Talk about new and improved, cutting edge, wave of the future, now more than ever, state of the art advanced tublication.

In other words, we’re at the dawn of a new era, and it’s all for our children and grandchildren for they are our future. It’s all gravy from here on in, and we’re all in it together.

By adding this simple contact tool to your favorite website, we are proactively reducing YOUR carbon footprint and saving the environment. “But how is that even remotely possible, Bunk?” you axe. It’s actually very simple.

Every keystroke takes energy that every reader of TR must replenish with fuel consumption, like eating Cheetos while typing.

Each additional unnecessary keystroke it takes to contact us also consumes the electricity that powers your keyboard, mouse, monitor/screen, PC and laptop. Fewer keystrokes lead to energy savings. Click on the “Write  Bunk” thingy at the upper right hand side of the page. One click. That results in a gross energy consumption reduction of 2,200%, not counting the Cheetos. Very impressive.

The climate is already cooling as we speak… because it’s night. Also, fewer people are clicking fewer keys to contact me. At night.

It’s your choice, so do your part. Click once. Leave a comment and save the planet, or live with your decision and die. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for all the little bastards of the future.

Your Pal, Bunk

P.S. Diesel’s Basic Tenets of Economics and Capitalism is a must read, especially for you folks whose garage is infested with teenagers, or if you are a teenager yourself. It’s very concise, and it’s very very true.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

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Tommy Makem and the Clancy Brothers sang a version of this. I’d post the song here, except that I lent the CD to a man named Martois a coupla years ago and never got it back. (Hunt him down, my friends, and make him cough it up.)

If you can’t read it proper, here’s the transcription, with Irish slang help from THE Eoin Shalloo, after the break. (Thanks Mr. S.) Continue reading “Happy St. Patrick’s Day!”

Gimme some Skin

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Faith Enhancer

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Just in time for All Soul’s Day.

Yes, folks, we’ve all seen it on TV, the one and only “Miraculously Pepper-Minty Faith-Enhancing Breathspray.”

Made from habanero chili oil, all it takes is one little squirt into your mouth, and you’ll be yelling, “OH GOD! O MY GOD!” and praying that there’s some milk left in the fridge.
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Habanero chilis make you smarter.

I’d read about them. A friend had given me five little orange ones he’d grown himself. Something that small and pretty couldn’t be that bad, I told myself, and I dared myself to try one, or rather, a small part of one, and I ate a fingernail-sized slice late one night several years ago.

I have a deep and profound respect for the habanero.

It was sweet, pleasant at first, until it jumped up and filled my entire field of vision. Flaming sweat was spitting out of my forehead when I took a lick of salt (one remedy) and I jammed my fist into the refrigerator for the quart of milk without opening the door. “OH GOD!” I yanked the milk out by its udders ignoring the jagged metal that cut my forearm.

I drank the whole quart, and finally the pain subsided. Whew… at least I could say that I’d eaten the habanero. But I found out that it wasn’t done with me yet.

Relieved, and with natural endorphins jumping around in my brain, I headed for bed, got my night-chonis on, brushed my teeth. Then I took out my contacts. “OH, GOD!” A minute amount of the habanero oil had not washed off of my fingers, and now my eyes were shooting flames.

I took the contact lenses, washed them thoroughly, dumped them into the little canister with the magic cleaning tablets, and went to bed.

Next morning. Forgot about the habaneros. Fetched my contacts from the little canister. Put them in my eyes. “OH, GOD!” I decided to ride it out, and it subsided, leaving me red eyed.

And I learned that the habenero wasn’t done with me yet. Later that afternoon while sitting next to the bathtub… “OH, GOD.”

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True Story, and I learned from it. Hope you did too.
[Photo source: Chiquiworld.]