What Would Jesus Bomb?

Saw that bumpersticker on a wheezing Volvo in Prescott.

So, Martha goes to prison for five months, five more months under house arrest, and OJ plays golf four times a week in Florida.  America, America.

Slept badly; kept hearing this buzzing, annoying noise in my right ear, sounded like "You're going too slow!  Hurry up! Everybody's passing us!"  Probably just something I ate too late.

Yardwork Today!  Despite my best efforts, the lawn continues to grow, scraggly.  I have a vendetta out for the ants what bit my Bella's foots and ankles when she got out of the pool to pee, so as I'm tidying up with the Toro SuperSuck, I figured I'd see how many ants a SuperSuck could suck. 

Little bastards kept coming, like six legged lemmings plunging into the abyss of my Toro.  Heh heh heh, take that you little shits! 

Eeeeeek.  Must have been standing on one ant hill while vackummin another.  Doing the ant dance.  Once more, into the breech(es)!

Now, here's where it got interesting, if less picturesque.  Not that I would have done anything differently if I'd thought it through first (all together now, "yea, right") but I guess it's not that surprising that this four pounds of ants didn't lie, stunned, inert in the bottom of the bag.  Disappointing but not surprising.  This I learned as I emptied the bag into the trash barrel.  Talk about holding a grudge.  Professional bug assassain on tap for Wednesday.  I'm staying inside until then.  Just in case.