Leopards are the most Metal of all the felines. If you could transform animals into music, house cats would be a mixture of smooth jazz and spy movie music. Leopards would be melt your face off – headbang till you’re dead – vomit till you bleed out your eyeballs Heavy Metal. Imagine a series of songs about raining blood, disemboweling stuff, and leaving the toilet seat up. Leopards have that playing in their heads at all times. Except when they’re getting a nice leopard scratching session. Then it’s all cuddles. I like you, the leopard thought. I’ll kill you last (power chords).
Personally, photography isn’t really my forte. I can never get the lighting down, my hands are shaky, and I can never steal a good camera. Even a disposable camera would be acceptable at this point, but I can’t even steal one of those anymore. Tourists aren’t as easy to pick on as they used to be. Now they all use their phones as cameras,which never leave their line of sight. You try stealing something that’s glued to someone’s hands. It’s not easy.
I’m not sure if this is the best driving I’ve ever seen, or the worst. I suppose the commuters don’t have much of a say in the matter. The intersection seems to have been planned by the low bidder and constructed by a fleet of drunken toddlers. Placing a stop sign or two would have done a world of good, but it must have been too much for their budget to handle. It’s hard to pay for a road with goats and virgins; the exchange rate is just not in your favor.
When it comes right down to it the whole affair looks half finished. They all must have lost interest and gone home before they got around to painting the stripes.
Luckily, the lanes are just suggestions. As long as you drive between the pedestrians and glance out the windshield occasionally there shouldn’t be a problem. Drive fast, take chances, and never take your foot off the gas.
God help you if you’re on a motorcycle.
[Many thanks to the impeccable and good-looking Dad Of Home Schoolers for sending this along]
Their parents walked behind them for eighteen years with a pillow and a glass of water in case they got thirsty. They made sure every T-Ball game ended in a tie, and put sunscreen on them before they’d let them open the refrigerator door and get a blast of UV from the little lightbulb in there. They cut their meat until they were shaving.
Then the kids got a driver’s license, and all bets were off. Same as it ever was.
(Thanks to mega-friend of the BSBFB, Charles Schneider, for sending that one along)