Coffee and Porn

Once again , my favorite theme. Now remember folks you heard it first here, Smalltown is about to get its first porno store, I am so excited I can hardly wait. No doubt you are amazed that I have scooped the Smalltown Gazette and even the Bigtown News but there it is and this is how it went down.

Hugh Jazz (the town manager) and (Simple) Simon Hemmer (Hemmer, Royds, and Piles LLP) the town's attorney were having a meeting and so secret was it that they decided to have it in the Coffee House (I know, what were they thinking)? It turns out that some porn empire has decided that the good citizens of Kissbotty county need to have their love lives jazzed up with a touch of erotica and as Smalltown is the county seat where better to open shop but here. Much to their chagrin the town's elders have been informed by Simple Simon that it is unconstitutional to ban porn from the town. The best that they can do is make life difficult by enacting all sorts of vindictive legislation. For example, they cannot situate outside a school (mind you they probably would not want the pro bono competition, see here) and so on. Still I know how these things work, there will be much huffing and puffing and eventually the porn boys will bung a few Franklins to the council and we will be away.

The last time the Boss and I accidentally stumbled into a porn store we found ourselves in the artificial wiener department. After much deliberation the Boss selected a rather ambition model in black with a white top. She got to the checkout and the clerk said "Madam, that is my vacuum flask".

Happy days

Coffee and Sufferage

As I have mentioned from time to time, Kissbotty county is a pretty rural agrarian environment with classic southern values. It is not unusual to see the dog in the front seat of the pickup with the woman riding the bed and many folk adhere to the old Shakespearean quote of "A woman, a dog, and a walnut tree, The more you beat 'em, the better they be." Not of course that I subscribe to such nonsense you understand but when in Rome.......

Anyway I was on my travels this morning when I spotted one of those magnetic ribbon thingies stuck to the side of a minivan. Instead of saying "Support our troops" it said "End domestic violence now". This is what happens when you allow Yankees to move into our country. I tell you people this is just going to upset the equilibrium and before you know where you are women will be expecting to vote. Worse still if Kissbotty women realize that the female orgasm is not an urban legend I am going to be screwed (or not screwed more likely).


For now I am going to get my own ribbons made and every time I see a domestic violence ribbon I shall replace it with a "Iron my shirt" ribbon.


Recently these Yankee "women" held some sort of protest meeting, can you spot me?

The Health Inspector

Well we got through another snap health inspection this morning. I guess that after 4 straight all clears the inspector felt the need to flex his regulatory muscles. The best that he could do was to point out that the tomatoes were a bit on the warm side. The boss pointed out that they had only just been purchased and he would be better employed checking the temperature of the chiller at the Walmarts but he was having none of it.

After he was safely out of earshot (I am not that stupid) I mentioned that if he wanted to mess with the fruit he could always check out the temperature of my plums. The boss looked at me and without the slightest hint of shame mentioned that the only reason that we ever passed a health inspection was that she allowed him to check the temperature of her melons.

What a trollop!

Coffee and Drugs

Fruit of the Loin II is coming home for the summer next week. When we lived in North Virginia there were so many restaurants and stores that they pretty much dragged kids of the streets and offered them jobs. Here in Kissbotty jobs are few and far between and I suspect they are saved for the local kids. Last year FOTLII had no luck in finding summer employment and ended up being used as slave labor here in the Coffee House. Determined that this was not going to happen ever again she made a list of every potential employer in Kissbotty (excluding me and the Boss). I noticed that on her list was the local Homo Depot and she had been told that they were a pretty good employer. As it happens the manager is a fairly regular customer so I offered to put in a word, which I did. Unbelievably FOTLII made an unexpected visit yesterday and whilst she was here the Homo Depot manager turned up. I introduced them and he offered to interview her straight away, mentioning with a wink that next week might be too late.

So she trots off, gets interviewed and passes a urine test. You have no idea how disappointed I am. How can a child of mine possibly pass a snap drug test without a week to flush out? This is clearly a complete waste of a college education.