Eeeek! It's a Meaningless Slogan Designed to Elicit an Emotional Response!

We are animals. And I don’t mean that in the derogatory way it is usually meant. I mean literally, humans are animals. We are mammals. We have live births and we produce milk with which we feed our young.

As animals, it is our biological imperative to breed and provide what resources we can for our young to be bigger and stronger than the other animals so they have a good chance at survival.

As a species, humans have been (arguably) the most successful at this endeavor. So much so that our success is now getting in the way of our survival.
We have made most of society too safe.

Deep within our brains are areas solely responsible for recognizing danger and responding to it. It wasn’t going to do our ancestors much good to ignore that rustling in the bushes because it was probably a saber tooth tiger about to pounce.

This danger-Will-Robinson-gene was responsible for our gathering into families, clans, cities, states, nations. So we might have an “us” to help us with “them” because they might mean us harm. They might want our prime hunting areas. They might want to bash our brains out and take our women.

And in these times, that gene is way under used. We meander through our days, completely bored in the fact that we are so safe. There certainly will not be a wildebeest around the next corner intent on protecting its young from you, the hunting human.

This is why we love roller coasters and horror movies. They excite that little used portion of our brain and give us a sense of satisfaction of having faced “danger” and lived. All those awesome little endorphins get all riled up.
The problem with endorphins though, is that they are a little addictive. Ask runners and other athletes who miss a few days of their favorite activity; they begin to feel the pangs of withdrawal.

And our society in general is doing the same thing these days with manufactured crises. The liberals are going to outlaw Bibles! Zing! There go those endorphins.

Coming down is a bitch, so…The gays are going to get married in your church!

Terrorists are going to attack at any moment!

(Sorry, but it cracks me up that people in east no-where middle America are more worried about a terrorist blowing them up than they are about getting into a car and driving over the speed limit while talking on a cell phone, which is a more immediate threat to their lives.)

Mexicans are coming to take your jobs and kill you in car wrecks!

The Christian right is going to force you to believe in their God!

Even our news-ertainment is getting in on the act. Discussion and debate are meaningless, mindless, mean pits of our side vs. their side. We cheer when “our” side gets a “hit”. We make excuses when “our” side is found holding a penalty flag.

Not that there is anything wrong with thrill seeking. But we need to return it to the realm of amusement parks, movie houses and athletics.

It has no place in American politics because it is ultimately meaningless. It doesn’t move us forward. We are stuck in a pit of name calling and faux-hysteria. And the people in power, the people at the top of the money pile continue to do whatever they want (which, because they are animals intent on their survival, is what is best for them, not us).

Those with power and money amass more power and money while the middle class disappears in a storm of name calling and finger pointing.

Thor sez: If I had a thumb, oh, the things I'd write about you humans embarrassing the rest of us "animals"!

Twoday!

What is it about cats and dirty laundry? I toss piles of sorted laundry on the floor and within a few minutes.....

Monday Musing

How did so much Johnny Cash get into my Pandora Elton John station? I like Johnny, but it plays more of him than Elton.

Why have I spent hundreds of dollars on cat toys when a q-tip and a bottle cap make them happier than any store bought toy?

What is blooming that has broken through the allergy med barrier and is making me sneeze my brains out?

I was so ashamed yesterday. On my walk, I saw a lady who must be +70 up on a ladder, painting her house. I am a lazy bum. This fall, I shall buy a ladder and paint my own damn house.

The most useless bit of information I will ever give you: To tell the difference between Thor and Loki in the dark, just feel the fangs. Loki has freakishly long fangs.

Can you tell I'm supposed to be writing? I've gone to have blood drawn, cleaned out a closet, stared at my Twitter feed and now am blithering away here.

Okay. Seriously. Going to write right now.

Thor sez: But, you only played with us twice this morning!

Loki sez: My fangs are not freakishly long! I'm descended from the saber tooth tiger!

Loki Sunday

Here's a Shocker!

I sort of agree with Glenn Beck. We need to restore some honor in this country.

He and I just seem to think we need it in different places.

I think we need to restore honor first of all in journalism, whether print or the big 24/7 television news channels. We need editors and journalists and producers who are committed to the ideals of unbiased investigation, who will resist the temptation to resort to the use of sensationalism and entertainment simply to drive ratings.

We need to restore honor to top level business executives and boards of directors of major companies of all types. For too long, they have honored exclusively their shareholders and forgotten to honor their customers and employees.

We need to restore honor to our political "employees" (I hesitate to call them leaders because they no longer lead). They need to begin to honor the commitment they speak with their mouths, but do not follow with their actions. Politicians need to stop honoring the soundbite, the gotcha, the mudslinging and their largest contributors and start honoring the people they serve.

We need to restore honor to those church going Americans who use their faith as a weapon against others rather than the path of their spiritual journey. We need to restore honor to those who claim to heed the words of Jesus, but speak ill against others.

We need to restore honor to poverty. The poor were Jesus' favorite people. We need to stop disparaging and so cruelly taunting them (bum, welfare queen, etc) and actually get out and help someone. (Quick - name your two favorite organizations that are battling poverty and the devastating effects of being poor - mine are the Nurse-Family Partnership and WINGS).

We need to restore honor to being intellectually gifted. We need to make being smart and insightful and curious about the world and the people in it a wonderful, honorable thing. Those who are so gifted need to stop using their knowledge as a means of boosting ego and begin using it to build understanding.

We need to restore honor to education. Take a teacher to Japan. Have him or her tell a Japanese citizen that he/she is a teacher. Watch the awe and immense respect that the teacher receives. Take a teacher to any American mall and do the same. Most responses will be along the lines of "I couldn't deal with those children all day".

And two more things. One, I looked into the charity that this event is supposed to benefit and it seems to be pretty legit. Other than the top man getting a salary of $200,000 a year, they do seem to have given full scholarships to the children of special forces soldiers who were killed in combat. That's a great thing and this Air Force Brat thanks them.

Two, I'm sorry, but Sarah Palin needs to kiss my grits. I know the rally was supposed to be honoring the military. But her linking her political ideology with her religious views to her raising of a son who is in the military rankled me.

I am a liberal non-theist. I raised a son who is in the military also. Loving and appreciating your country and wanting to serve your fellow citizens is not a conservative Christian value, it is an American value and perhaps Ms. Palin should start honoring that, as well.

Family, Children, Poverty - Women's Issues?

I know yesterday was the 90th anniversary of the 19th amendment, giving women the right to vote. But I'm a little cynical on the whole voting process right now. I did, however, come across this very interesting article: If Women Ruled the World.

As I read the article, I began to wonder, as I often do, are families, children and poverty really just "women's issues". Because even in these enlightened (cough) times, things deemed belonging to women are still viewed as less than by those in power.

To me, families, children, poverty, education, health care are national security issues. For it doesn't matter how strong our borders are, how strong our military is if we are crumbling from within.

Remember in elementary school when you were told that if you put a penny away every day, at some point you'd have a million dollars? It's the theory of exponential growth. It's the same physical reality as to why the earth's population is exploding.

We, American society, have ignored the problems of poverty and education for too long. We've tossed some money at it, we've convinced ourselves that poverty is a moral failure. We've swallowed the whole pull yourself up by your bootstraps, rags-to-riches story despite the fact that for every one person who was able to do it, there were thousands who could not.

So our poor, our uneducated, our unhealthy, are becoming a larger percentage of the population.

And our ineffective spending on these issues just causes us to spend more and more money without fixing anything. So our national debt grows and we become more in debt to other countries.

Our crumbling education system leaves us with more and more drop outs and functionally illiterate graduates who can not compete in the job market, so our jobs go overseas.

Our lack of preventive health care leads more and more young people into chronic health problems which drives up the costs of health care overall.

It isn't an issue of wrong or right. It isn't an issue of women or men. It is an issue of national security.

Since both left and right like to run out cliches, here's one: we are only as strong as our weakest link.

And we are allowing too many links to weaken.

The boyz say: But what about feline issues?

Thor's Day

And new Pierpont Avenue chapters.



Thor sez: No, I'm thrilled to be sharing my day with your three year old 25% finished manuscript, really. Can't you tell?

Kittens!

Too much seriousness going on around here.



First sighting of both babies in the yard!

Screech Screech Screeeech

That's the sound of me, dragging my soapbox back out into the light.

There was a horrible crime committed recently. A mother took her two baby boys, ages 1 and 2, to a motel where she smothered them to death with her bare hands, then strapped them in their car seats and rolled the car into the Edisto River.

I shall not engage in the usual unhelpful bleating that surrounds such crimes.

I shall instead, delve into something much colder, much crueler.

As horrible as the deaths of those two little babies was, they are now beyond pain and suffering. Whether you believe they are safe in the arms of Jesus or simply just gone from this life doesn't matter.

May I now call attention to the thousands and thousands of infants and young children who are in homes where they are subject to emotional and physical abuse or neglect?

Whether purposely on the part of the care taking adult out of what ever cause - lack of maternal attachment, drug/alcohol abuse, mental illness - or accidentally by simple ignorance.

Don't you wonder why so many young people from poverty stricken areas turn to crime and drugs? Why they drop out of school at higher rates? Why girls are bearing children out of wedlock? Why boys are fathering children out of wedlock? Why our eduction system is in shambles?

It is because if you are going to even begin to address the problems of crime, teen pregnancy, and poor educational outcomes, you must know and understand that what happens to babies from conception to age two or three are THE MOST important factors in their lives.

Prenatally, the fetus needs proper nutrients and a drug/alcohol/tobacco free environment if all its parts, especially the brain are to develop normally.

Postnatal, the infant is born with an unfinished brain. What happens, or more importantly, what does not happen in the first two years of life determines whether a child is ABLE to learn once they hit school.

Children born into poverty to parents with little to no support (or don't even know what support they need or have access to) are at high risk to have their little brains starved. Starved for the nutrition, stimulation, and emotional bonding they need to succeed at anything once they get to school.

And guess what? There is an established program that has been proven over and over to work. Families participating in this program have fewer babies, fewer drug/alcohol issues, fewer domestic violence incidents. The mothers use fewer social services, finish high school at a higher rate, have more jobs. The babies benefit also, the education and support given to the mothers gives the babies what they need in those critical two years of life so they enter school ready and able to learn. This program has been in place in several regions, some up to 20 years and the results are rock solid across all ethnic groups. Because the problem is poverty and lack of knowledge, not skin color.

I would love to spend my taxes for this program to be available for every new mother who wants it. Everywhere. It's called the ounce of prevention and we need to start looking at the overwhelming problems of crime, teen pregnancy and school drop outs from infancy.

Oh, the program? The Nurse-Family Partnership.

What if that mother in Orangeburg had had a trusted nurse coming to visit her and her little baby boys? Don't you think those boys would not only be alive now, but thriving?

The Sound of Summer

Recently, someone asked the purpose of cicadas. My reply was that they are the soundtrack of summer.

It was cicadas we listened to while sitting in the shade of my friend Kristi's carport. Fat beefsteak tomatoes plucked sun warm and sweet from her mother's garden were lunch, juice running down our arms to drip from tanned elbows. A drink of water and a rinse from the garden hose and we were back to lazing away the hottest part of the day.

It was the cicadas whose song followed us from yard to yard in July and August when the asphalt of the street finally became too hot for our bare feet, so calloused from going shoeless all summer, and we had to navigate the neighborhood from patch of grass to patch of grass, the occasional honeybee sting no more a distraction than a mosquito bite.

It was cicadas providing the background music as we sat under the pine trees in my front yard or the great oak tree in Gerri's yard. We planned our weddings, we named our children (Olivia, Francesca, and perhaps as a wish against the summer heat - December).

It was on one of those lazy afternoons, sprawled out on my mother's front porch that I declared in tones of horror and disbelief that "in the year 2000, I'll be forty years old!" I can still hear the echo of my 12 year old voice, scarcely able to imagine the realities of forty.

Now, that is 10 years in the past. It will soon be 2011 (sounds like science fiction, Jason says).

But the cicadas are still singing their unique song. I hear them in the mornings when I am on my walk, the sudden shrill chittering song rising to a buzz, then abruptly dropping off as the next one begins the song.

All I need do is close my eyes and I'm 12 again, laying in the prickly grass of the front yard, eyes closed, listening, thinking, dreaming.

Loki Sunday

Loki's new hat:

Thor's Day

Thor faces:




Uh, that's not Thor. It isn't Mamma Deer either! Daddy Deer? Brother from Last Year Deer?

Random Photo Day

I know Jason is the professional, but I do like to dabble. Here are some recent shots that I sort of like.

Loki drinking from the fountain.

Momma Deer and the fawn brave enough to come in the yard.

Thor, in all his splendid attitude.

I'm not sure on this one. One minute I like it, the next I want to delete it. I took it from the porch early morning when I was just getting home from work (hence the scrubs). I was taking a picture of Ezmerelda the Fifth (see below) and Thor was upset he couldn't come out to help.

Ezmerlda the Fifth and her web in the early morning. (Just off the front porch so we get to say hello every morning and watch her grow.)

Chicken Little Politics

So, some folks I know were having a very nice, intelligent, civilized conversation about the Muslim community center being build near the site of the 9/11 terrorist attack.

It will come to no surprise to my frequent readers (all 10 of you, I love you) that I am somewhat of a cynic in regards to politics.

Here is the thing to remember: We are hard core in the age of Chicken Little Politics. Whenever an "important" election is approaching, the right (sorry, but it is usually the right) stirs up some massive frenzy about something that really is a non-issue (i.e. it won't ever get solved, but stirs up plenty of emotion).

First it was abortion.

Then it was the gays were going to storm the doors of your churches and force your pastor to marry them. (uh, to each other, not marry the pastor, that is.)

Then it was the evil liberal elitists who were going to take away your bibles and banish God from America.

Then is was those evil illegal aliens - oops, until they realized how many real American citizens who can and do vote are of Hispanic descent...so...yikes! Ummm.. oh look! Look over there!!!

Evil Muslims are trying to "build a mosque in the shadow of the twin towers!!!"

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkk!

Your emotions are being manipulated, people.

First of all there is no debate whether legally they should be allowed to do this, yes, they can, they are American citizens who enjoy the right to freedom of religion, right?

Now, the ethical issue can be debated to your heart's content, but don't let the passions blind you to thinking this is a who you should vote for issue. Because it is nothing but a Chicken Little Ploy to distract you from serious issues - war, poverty, failing schools, failing businesses.

Don't fall for it!

Plus, I've heard that there is a strip club in the same vicinity. That's pretty disrespectful, young girls dancing nearly naked and giving lap dances where people died? Hey, Sarah, why don't you get on that issue? (And didn't Sarah Palin say that liberal elitist New Yorkers weren't "real Americans" during her campaign? Did I miss her apology and reconciliation with the good people of New York?)

Thank You Karen Spears Zacharias

One of mine and Jason's favorite writers, Karen Spears Zacharias, had a recent blog entry that Jason, as a lapsed Catholic, found a wee bit strange and puzzling. As a recovered Southern Baptist, I knew both the question and the answer.

Question: Will you go to Heaven?

Only acceptable (to the type who set up this booth) answer: Yes, because I have accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior and invited him into my heart. (I will not, at this time, get into the underlying meanness to this question when asked to those who do not know the "right" answer and who after giving their heartfelt best answer are slapped down with a big fat wrong, you are going to HELL!!!)

But what I found SO EXCITING about this blog post was not the how to get into Heaven question, but the MATH DREAM!!!

It has been, until now, one of those little things that I was sort of ashamed to say out loud because it sounds so stupid. But I have, for years, had math dreams where I was going to college and kept forgetting to go to math class and when I did go, I was so far behind that I had to drop out of college.

Not once or twice, but frequently. I'm sure it is some sort of performance anxiety dream, but I wonder, now that I know I'm not alone in my terror of math, how common is the math class dream?

Thor sez: You humans are so strange.

Loki Sunday Reading Recommendations

A little light Sunday reading.

Yes, I know, it is Loki Sunday.

Loki sez: Seriously, you need to load more pictures of me on the laptop.

Whine, Whine, Whine, Whine, Whine

The other day, a thing happened. It wasn't a big thing, just one of those fell-through-the-cracks sort of things. But it needed to be attended to.

While I was tending to it, you know, okay this was supposed to happen but didn't so now let's do this, this and that. Then the thing will be back on track.

But while I was doing those things, I was barraged with a massive amount of whys and whos and hows and recollections of past dropped balls and finger pointing and general whining.

Now, those things are not completely unimportant. The sequence of events must be evaluated for the future. But at the moment, we had a problem and needed a solution that would bring us to the point where the problem was solved.

I see much of that in the political discussions of the day. We as a nation have several major problems that need to be addressed. But all our leaders are sitting around why-ing, who-ing, how-ing instead of just solving.

And the American public is following along with the group bitch. This side just sits by doing nothing until that side says something, does something and they begin caterwauling like a banshee. Then that side does the same thing when it is this side that has a goof.

So we all sit around whining and whining and wondering why nothing gets done. Because it is so much easier to bitch than to try to change.

Thor sez: The problem is, I haven't had supper. Can you feed me, then argue over who forgot to do it?

Hurricanes, Part...uh...3?

While digging through the massive pile of junk and paper thrown into the desk drawer - it's my filing system - I found the original print out of the Yankees' Guide to Hurricanes.

Besides sneezing my face off due to the paper/book mites and dust, I was smiling over the edited portion:

Hurricane Supply List:

Batteries, lots of them and here is a helpful hint: actually LOOK at what size your various toys and things take, then buy some in all those sizes.

Water, water, then some more water. Do not drink the water they tell you to save in your bathtub, that is for pouring down the toilet after nature has called so your house does not begin to smell like a crack den.

Food. Now this is tricky. Beer and chips. Pop tarts for the kids. DO NOT BUY MILK!! Milk is ONLY for snow emergencies. Canned goods that taste good COLD. This is not the time for a dozen cans of cream of mushroom soup, no matter how many you can buy for a dollar.

Got a can opener? Oh, that electric one, yeah, and on day five of no electricity after all the pop tarts and beer are gone, you'll find yourself in the backyard with a screwdriver and a big rock, grunting like a caveman over a can of french cut green beans. Then pissed off you can't call 911 because there is no phone service and you are going to do something really stupid like let your idiot cousin sew you up after dipping the thread and needle in Budweiser because he swears he saw it on Emergency 911 when he was a kid.

Medicine. Lots of pain relievers (and some Valium if you can get it) because after about two hours of no TV, video games or computers, the kids are going to get REAL whiny, real fast.

Lumber. For the windows.

A tarp. For when the tree crashes through the roof.

Battery operated radio/TV. So you can find out where to buy diapers, ice, beer and cigarettes.

A chain saw. Because nothing says "I Survived Hurricane Whomever" like a severed body part.

Gas for the car so you can ignore all the safety warnings and drive all over town to look at the damage.

Camera. So you can take pictures of the really cool things like bikes in trees and boats in the streets. Oh yeah, and to document damage for your insurance company.

Money. Because ice is going to be $20 a bag and diapers sell for about $10 EACH about two days post hurricane. And when every towel, sheet, and shirt in your house has been peed and pooped in and then you realize that the Laundromat doesn't have power either, you'll pay, oh yes you will.

But the best thing to have during a hurricane is a rich out of town relative with a mansion inland who will leave you a key under the doormat.

And pet food. Or else they'll be at each other like...uh...animals.

Poor Neglected Little Blog

I'm just slack. There is no excuse other than that. That. And Twitter.

I'm trying to get some pretty big projects up off the ground. The genealogy thing. The "Maddie" novel. My other is referred to as the "Meg" novel. I don't know why we call my manuscripts by the protagonists' first names. We just do.

My poor house is in need of some serious attention, so I've been chipping away at that. Used to be I could just take a day and do a serious move everything and clean under/behind in every room. Now it's more like scrub one bathroom, take a break. Vacuum, take a break. Sweep, put ice on the back. For some reason my back injury spot HATES sweeping and mopping and will flare up in an instant if I'm not careful to sweep/mop towards me in a straight line, no side to side motion. And you try changing that routine after some 40 years of house cleaning.

I'm also trying to slog through some agent listings and find a few to begin submitting again. Yes, again. Yes, I know I've been submitting this novel for about five years now. Sigh. If only one person would say it sucked, I'd just give it up. But everyone LOVES it, they just can't niche it for sale, they say.

Blerg.

I took an on-line quiz that was supposed to tell me where I should move. Jason and I are looking for a spot to relocate to once his daughter is out of school. The quiz said I should move to Europe. Sigh. I was hoping for something a little less complicated. On the radar now: Charlottesville, VA and Fort Collins, CO. At least those are the two so far that neither of us have outright said no to.

And now, for your viewing pleasure: El Gato Gordo y el Gato Flaco:

This Is Why JAZ Is a Photographer and I am Not

Yesterday evening. I was out pretending I can still party like it's 1999, so not sure where the second baby was at when this was taken.

Boo! Are You Scared?

All together now. To the tune of "I'm a Girl Watcher" (you fetuses under 30 google up a youtube video):

"I'm a fear mongerer! I'm a fear mongerer! Mongering fear all day. Hey hey hey!"

Comment left on my previous blog post:

ConsumerFreedom said...

"Calling high fructose corn syrup “poison” is so unhelpful to consumers. It’s just patently untrue. Your fear-mongering encourages consumers to obsess on single ingredients in their diet instead of thinking about the entirety of their diet and their lifestyle."

See, Consumer Freedom thinks you and I are too stupid to put a whole picture together, so we shouldn't even worry about all the little ingredients. Just toss it all down your pie hole because you certainly can't do anything but obsess on a single ingredient.

Gosh, guess all those gluten-intolerant people are obsessing on gluten, after all, it is ONLY a single ingredient, right? (Right? I actually just realized I'm not sure about that and as I am typing on the fly waiting for a ride to Nursery Nurse Palooza, will have to hope one of my fine readers will correct me if I am wrong.)

And all those people with peanut allergies should stop obsessing over peanuts, after all, it is ONLY a single ingredient.

For Pete's Sake! I don't care if you think HFCS is God's gift to the world (or bottom line of manufacturers), have at it. I have my opinion about it also. And I can bring out one scientific article after another on "my" side and the commenter can bring out one corn industry sponsored article after another on "his/her" side and we'd be here all year.

Don't insult my and my reader's ability to research their food choices and come to decisions.

But I kinda liked the "fear mongering" part, made me feel all powerful and stuff for a moment. Then the boyz wanted dinner and I realized I'm just human after all.

The boyz say: And we want the fancy fancy feast, not that extra gravy garbage daddy gave us!

You Know Those Commercials..

The ones that make me want to find an advertising executive and smack them upside the head?

Sure, you know. Mom A is serving up some yummy tasty chemically enhanced high fructose corn syrup "food". Mom B says, "Oh, you know what they say about high fructose corn syrup." Mom A says, "What do they say?" Leaving Mom B sputtering and looking like an idiot.

Well, they never ask me because I've got a list of things I could tell them about that poison that they are allowed to put into almost every thing we eat.

Here's one more.

Why I Hate Speed Bumps

No, not because I'm a speed demon. Nor is it because even at a crawl, my low front end tends to come within a millimeter of being bonked.

I find them amusing at times. Like when I'm on my walk, my neighborhood has a few and the neighborhood bordering mine is lousy with them, and I can annoy Jason by exclaiming, "Mountain climbing!" whenever I walk over one, then (because I am insane, you don't know this by now?) when I am over it, say "Wow, that one was tough, didn't think I'd make down the back slope".

But really, speed bumps in residential neighborhoods simply and plainly say that our society has no self control or respect for either the law or their fellow citizens.

Not only can we not follow the speed limit, which is in place for a reason other than to make you late for whatever you are rushing to do, but we have no concern that our neighbors children might be nearby.

No respect for others. I am serious. If you speed down a road where you know children might be present, you have no respect for a fellow human being.

So people speed. Then this happens: people complain (probably the same people who speed down other people's roads). They get speed bumps. And you know what happens? (Other than people speeding up to the bumps, slamming on brakes, then screeching away once across?)

Um, fire trucks can't get over them. They have to come to almost a complete stop, creep over, then try to get the giant rigs back up to some sort of speed.

How many times do you want a fire truck to have to stop and creep along while en route to your burning house?

Okay, so your house might not catch on fire. Statistics are on your side.

No they aren't. Insurance companies love statistics. They look at things like how long it takes your local fire house to respond to fires. That figures into your bill.

Twosday! Cat nap pile.

My Back Yard is a Freaking Disney Movie, The Sequel

If I don't like the pictures I get in the morning, I just have to wait until the afternoon showing.Was very happy to see both babies after only seeing one for the last few sightings.

"Mooooom! We're booored! There's NO-thing to do back here."

Wandering off...

A little further...

"You kids better get back here!" (see, there's bunny, you thought I made it up, huh? also note the scar on Momma Deer's shoulder, that's how I know it's her every summer."

Just a little wide view perspective.

"Aahhh!" Bunny flees for its life.

My Back Yard is a Freaking Disney Movie

Oh, hai. Don't mind us. Just brought my babies to your wonderful buffet lunch.

Nom.

Nom nom nom.

Oh, excuse me.

Are you almost done there? I believe that is my reserved table.

Momma?

And if I'd been faster the other day, I'd have one of Momma Deer standing by a bunny. All we need is a skunk and I can remake Bambi in my backyard.

The boyz say: Hopefully the Disney version and not the real one.