VD

It's Valentine's Day and Burritos question is this: Does Lynn trust Dick enough to get snuggly? Come to think of it, that's a question that you could ask of a lot of women.

Guestblogging Continues

(Uncle Ben has this thing for all things French. It's bizarre, but in this case I can't blame him.) - Burrito

I am horrified by this image. It is one of the most disgusting faces I've ever seen. I can't believe that Yasser Arafat would dare appear in the the same photo as Melissa. I don't care if he's dead. The corrupt, murdering bastard should know better.

On second glance, it looks like he's blowing her a kiss from Hades. How long has he been dead now? Can't they cremate him a little faster? Because I will not stand for sexual harassment from beyond the grave. Bald ugly pervert.

Guest Blogging begins

After being banned from blogging earlier today I am making a comeback by guest blogging here at the Persistent Burrito. Thanks to Beannie Boy for sharing his bandwidth or wasteline or whatever the term is. Thanks also to Melissa for her kind comment.

Jackbooted Censors

Burrito says that a friend in need is a friend indeed. That why there might be some guest blogging here from Uncle Ben as he fights the man. Here's what he wrote Mr. Beanno:

The Blogger server has blocked my site without explanation. I suspect that it stems from a post earlier today in which I included the words p0rn, hardc0re and s*x. "Yikes" you say? It was satirical and referenced my two cockatiels. For this, apparently, I have been banned.

Speak truth to power man.

That Jazz Guy, Swine and Pixies

Magic pixie dust was in the air tonight! Not only did Burrito wash the dishes, he was kissed by a passing angel that helped him tidy the rest of the kitchen. Granted she was a fickle little tart and left before the job was done, but beggars can't be choosers. The expired ham was moved two feet from the fridge to the dust bin and if that sweet thing comes back tomorrow the ham might just march down to the dumpster humming Rondo a la Trichinosis. Mr. Beano loves that song.

The Gall Stones

Burrito likes the Rolling Stones. Not with a passion or anything. The walls chez Beano are off white or a whiter shade of pale perhaps? Not black in any case. And I don't have lots of sympathy for the devil. Curiously my cockatiel does. He's immitating Mick Jagger right now and doing a better job than that venerable (geriatric) Londonner. Whoops and hollers and screaches with a few cat calls to boot. (Seriously, he's been singing along with ol' swivel hips for the last three minutes. How cool is that?)

Goat cheese? Monkey what? Where was...? Oh yes. The Stones are pretty darn good in my book. Burrito is considering making Jumpin Jack Flash the official song of the Persistent Burrito. Do you get it? Clue: it's elementary school humour.

But it's alright now, in fact it's a gas.
I'm jumpin Jack Flash it's a gas gas gas.

Cockatiel is ashamed of that joke and has burried his head under a wing. Good thing he isn't allowed to have a handgun or it would be a mess mess mess.

The Bachelor Life

Burrito needs to clean. Being a bachelor means that little nests of White Castle spring up next to the computer. Also dirty clothes are artfully displayed on the couch and on the bedroom floor. It's a way of protecting the slip cover and the carpet. That's an undeniable benefit, but propriety demands that, at the very least, these clothes be rotated.

Random? You better believe it.

To those loyal and numerous Persistent Burrito readers I must beg your forgivitude for the thinness of the broth. The good Burrito was distracted by national security issues, global warming and other momentous stuffs that might make good excuses.

-White Castle makes the best burgers in the business. Wrapping my big meaty hands around a half-pound White Castle burger is just heaven.

-Curious meteorological event today in Minnesota. It rained. Just in case you're the kind of person who loses track of the date, it's January. Yes, that's the month when it's cold (except for Australia, Pele-land, and Chad (not the Elder, the country). Getting rain in January is like getting a smile and an autograph from Barry Bonds; it just never happens. "Never say never, Mr. Bond".