DontLaughItsPaidForFarm

Some of us are wondering why the indefatigable Jon Rappaport’s WordPress blog was suddenly snipped. Kaput. Gone. No explanation, nothing. And when we, his loyal fans, went to check in, we were greeted with a butt-ugly BSOD-like page and a terse statement declaring that his former blog had violated the Terms Of Service.
No further details given.
And since none were, this act sure smacks of censorship.
Nobody is going to shut Rappaport up, though. Not now. ESPECIALLY not now.
We need MORE reporters like him; those unafraid of speaking truth to power.
So come on, WordPress: cough it up. And please be honest.
Let’s hear some details on WHY you yanked Jon Rappaport from this venue.

The creative flow, well you know
comes in spurts;
and yet you can bet
that some dark chocolate
when added, it sure never hurts.

So thus many words
some absurd
you can glean
from those of us birds
who abstain from caffeine!

Editor’s note: yes, folks, as you can see, Davey H isn’t very consistent with posting. In fact, he’s not very good with the whole bloggin’ paradigm. On that note, he’s open to suggestions, criticism, barbs, invective, jabs, or pokes to his abs.
Thus he won’t complain; he’s keeping this domain!

Are things pretty bad? Oh, yeah, you can bet. . .
but you haven’t been loaded in one of these yet;
So life sucks? Aw, shucks – hey, it could be worse,
but you’re not out of luck ’til you ride in a hearse!

Seen on duty, in action,at an undisclosed nursing home location.

Ever seen inside one of these babies? Plush, isn’t it? Snazzy. Elegant. A well decked-out rolling crib.
Whatever adjective you can pick to describe ridin’ in style, here it is, ensconced in a 4-wheeled vehicle that escapes most folks’ intentional attention most of the time. Hells bells — .who wants to notice it?

Interestingly, the youthful stretcher bearers wore solemn poker faces, perhaps in accordance with their training. They couldn’t grasp the humor in the context of loading a mere cold, dead body, stiff, corpse, cadaver, toasted-toes into such a Cadillac.

At first, I thought they would let onlookers get a gander at who it was. Was it Old Lady A, B, or C from floor two or three? And couldn’t they peel back that zippered bag for us to take a peek?

Not on your life. Privacy considerations, you know — something we, the living, have YET to possess.

By now, fair readers, you should know that we here @ Don’t Laugh It’s Paid For Farm don’t give a flyin’ sh** about football. And that goes double for the pompous
N-friggin’ F L.

To that end, we also take this opportunity to thumb our collective noses at ‘Deflate-Gate’. What an absurd bunch of nonsense!
So you mean to tell me that having less air in the pigskin will have any enduring impact on anything of consequence? Does it carry a metaphorical implication, say, a nationwide increase of ED — and falling erections in men with otherwise normal sex lives?
How friggin’ FLACCID can you get?

I like another theory, one entirely not my own, but belonging to the late great and oh, so prescient George Orwell. In the excellent pictorial rendering below, he nails this modern-day opiate of the masses:

And THAT, my friends, SAYS IT ALL.

Here’s an authentic Tag Sale sign.
Oh, how it enthralls. . .
USED balls? I whine.