The other day I was driving along when up ahead was a squirrel in the middle of the road. “Run little squirrel, run” I thought. Almost by ESP, or some other cosmic link, it ran for the side of the road. Safe. But only for a moment, for it suddenly executed one of those mid-air turns with change of direction only the desperate dwellers at the bottom of the food chain can do, and it ran back out into the street.

Squirrels apparently have a memory limited by the size of their skull. Or maybe their twitchy tails are a sign of ADHD and they don’t care where they’re going, they just want to go. The only other explanation is rather dark and would seem to violate the natural order of things.

Squirrels have suicidal tendencies. They're natural recruits for Hezbollah. I've hit a few myself, squirrels I mean, and never like it. You always flinch when you feel the thud of something under your tires, as long as it's not wearing a robe and explosives. At least they rarely cause damage, and they do feed the bottom of the food chain. Being at the top of the chain it will go through a few filterings before we get to it.

The worst thing I've ever hit was a deer; everyone in my family has hit one. The deer took out the hood and some headlights. It ran away- should have hit it harder and at least gotten some meat out of it. (Testosterone rush.) Why yes, I am feeling manly at the moment.

Squirrels are a reminder that Darwin isn't always right. Massive breeding can outdo Darwin's laws. Come on guys give it a try, do it for posterity, you have to believe your uber-DNA is worth it. The hard part will be convincing the wimmin.

Maybe all those senseless rodent deaths just mean we need a new social/entitlement program to move them to the country. Give them a job and housing. The mascot could be a little squirrel with a tear running down its cheek, a PETA badge on his shoulder, a bleeding heart on his chest, and a DNC patch on his hat.

I'm crying already, where can I send my contribution, or does that come out of my paycheck?

Oddly enough, on my way home tonight I ran over a skunk. Actually, the car ran over it, but you knew that, a smart one you are.

I ran over the skunk and it stunk so badly, all the way home. Forty-five minutes to home. The kids were already sleeping so they didn't notice. But sleep isn't a good option when you're driving, so I drove, and smelled. My nose I mean, but you knew that, like a whip you are.

Eventually I thought wow, that stink doesn't go away, its strong and relentless, that’s kind of manly actually. And as I thought of it that way it became less and less offensive, it became skunk musk. Women may be strong enough for Irish Spring, but even a woman on steroids can't handle Skunk Musk.

Knowing the wife would never share my enthusiasm for my new air freshener I stopped at a car wash and tried to wand it out. That's right, tried to; it still stinks, just not as badly.

It also occurred to me that my attitude change might give a little understanding as to why people have trouble training their dogs. The dog craps, the owner rubs its face in it. The dog sniffs, his eyes go wide, his ears perk up and he thinks, "Hey, that's good! Since you like it I can make some more. Bring on the Kibble and I'll doo-doo this place right."
Female dogs are easier to train.

It's a theory anyway.


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