Lord of the ring. The crispy, delicious ring.
You know what’s good? Humpty Dumpty Sour Cream & Onion Rings. They’re like Funyuns! Only, they’re not Funyuns! It’s just madness! Delicious, crunchy madness!

So a nice lady called me up earlier in the week and reported that grubs were destroying her lawn. “I’ve got grubs,” the nice lady said, “and the first person I thought of was you.” I’m flattered. I looked into it a little bit and what do you know? Grubs tend to sleep all day and do most of their destructive slug work at night. That’s me, all right. The word “grub” can also be used as slang for fast food or for one who is slovenly, unkempt and slightly dirty. Holy cow, I think I got me a new nickname.

Psst. You got any grass?
But the nice lady and her grub talk also got me thinking of you people who spend an enormous amount of time, money and energy making your lawns as luscious and green as humanly possible. Are you one of those? Are you out in your backyard each night with tweezers and a magnifying glass, inspecting every single blade for foreign invaders? Would you be willing to trade the wife and two of the kids for some magical grass seed if some were to become available? We admire your passion and would like to hear all about it. Write me at mlaflamme@sunjournal.com so I can join you in worship at the green altar. Or something. Just write me.

‘Game of Thrones’
Don’t even talk to me about “Game of Thrones.” I’d rather eat a handful of grubs than talk about “Game of Thrones.” Seriously, why did you bring it up? The final season was so moronic and ineptly written, I would have preferred that the show runners just showed up at my house and spit in my face. Starting now, I’m purging all memory of the program from my brain. Game of what, now? What are you talking about? Why are you still here?

Cool cat
Was riding up Walnut Street the other day when I encountered a cat laying in the middle of the road and licking itself. I stopped 10 feet away and revved my engine a little, but the cat didn’t move. Just ceased licking long enough to glower at me in that mean way cats have. I eventually drove through the gutter to get around the beast and when I glanced in my rear-view mirror, the dude was still right there in the center of the road, giving himself a bath. I mean, that’s just the epitome of cool right there. Bet when I ride by later I’ll see the same cat shooting dice in an alley or smoking and leaning up against a post.

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