Tag: Springfield

Beware the intentions of animals that approach you with beer

The Guys don’t think it’s absurd to state that clearly, animals are now on one big public relations tour. First, it was the shark that somehow didn’t try to eat a sea-stranded man (he must not have looked like Samuel L. Jackson). And now? Now, there are horses that deliver beer to you.

Good grief.

Okay, so we should probably reword that some. The horses in question, the Budweiser Clydesdale horses, don’t just deliver beer at the drop of a hat. Instead, they made a stop in Massachusetts last week to drop off a prize that a man won in a contest. Which is neat, seeing incredibly strong enemies of ours in this war forced to bend to our whims.

But the prize was a case of beer. Budweiser beer. It’s quite literally the case of win some, lose some.

Bullets work better hitting the target and not the shooter

No one likes crows. They’re filthy creatures that make little boys think they can fly in their dreams. That’s why we at SG completely support the destruction of those winged monsters.

But just like making a souffle and creating an incest-baby, we only support it when it’s done properly. This means using blasting dynamite or a gun that will completely discharge when the trigger is pulled. If the trigger is pulled and no bullet comes out, much less a large BLAM! sound, then it’s no good.

That’s why we DON’T support this man from Ohio. The only object he shot was himself. The crows? Still alive and presumably plotting.

Keep the cannon o’ launchin’

In additional news that be sure to turn your nose more than a swabby that just came back from a two month trip to Tobago do, something be stinking quite heavily it would seem o’er in the land of Springfield, Massachusetts. It would appear that a mighty volume of trash is produced by the local shop-keeps of that area, but they can’t just throw the trash over the side of the ship. That’s probably b’cause they be a group of landlubbers, rather than real men that adventure out to sea for fame and glory.

What can be done to solve this vile, most nasty, simply foul smellin’ o’ troubles? A few of the shop-keeps say that more trips by the waste seagoing vessel need be provided, but the admirals in charge of this be keeping their mouths shut. We suspect they may even take their decision to the bottom o’ the deep and briny depths.