You know how the slogan of the post office is “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”? Notice how it quite conspicuously doesn’t say anything about hobos with shotguns.
A hobo can be a lovable character that rides the rails.
…Or any kind of black dog with orange eyebrows (nods to Terry Pratchett).
LOL, hobos with shotguns, like they wouldn’t be out gunned by “postal” workers.
I believe I read that hobos with shotguns are the mailman’s natural enemy in the wild.
Are you saying that, under Obama, if shotguns are outlawed, only (ACORN) hobos will have shotguns?
Shiny objects keep them from their appointed rounds in my neighborhood. I actually had a letter carrier ask me for directions once.
Back when I lived in Minnesota, our neighbors had a little wiener dog who was very playful, and an outside dog. One day, they had let her roam around the front yard (he had been trained through the invisible fence to not venture too far off) when the mailman came by. So, like any good dog, she went to investigate this stranger. She gave him a little nip around the shoe out of curiosity, not even breaking the fabric, much less the skin. Do you know what happened to that dog? The government forced my neighbors to put it down immediately because it was viewed as a danger.
If you think hobos with shotguns are dangerous to mailmen, look at what they do to dogs. You only go to these lengths if the mailman was Superman and the dog had kryptonite dentures. Obviously, dogs are the largest threat to mailmen.
Did the wiener dog have orange eyebrows?
It’s much worse to be bitten by a hobo. They eat worse things than wiener dogs do, except Milk Bones, so their teeth are loaded with germy goodness. Your only hope is if they had just taken a swig of rotgut, which would kill most of the bacteria.
I always wondered why hobos drank mouthwash. Now I know, it was pass out by the postal service so their carriers wouldn’t be infected when bitten by hobos.
Frank, this is why Glenn Reynolds and Donald Rumsfeld have been under contract to the post office’s secret military wing for the last five years.
So how does this compute with the whole going postal idea, are those the appointed rounds they are doing.
If a hobo Had a shotgun he’d trade it for a quart of MD20/20.
… and don’t ask us about Mrs. Cake!
I was a supervisor of letter carriers for a few years. Thinking back on my staff now, and envisioning them at their letter cases around the workroom perimeter, counting them off on my fingers, I recall (starting at Route 23 and working down):
1 German Occupation CID officer, 1 Vietnam BAR gunner, 1 WWII Coastie, 1 Alaska Highway engineer, 1 Vietnam Silver Star Marine, 1 Blue Star mother of a Marine embassy guard, 2 WWII Army supply sergeants, 1 Vietnam intel analyst, 1 Vietnam tank driver w/2 Silver Stars and a mighty thirst, 1 undistinguished Korea infantryman, 1 tattoo-illustrated Navy chief who spoke Tagalog and had been to Antarctica 3 times, 1 Vietnam Marine gunny, 1 Korea gunner’s mate, 1 Vietnam Ranger, 1 ex-USNR ensign, 1 WWII Marine private who actually was an extra in the movie “Battle Cry,” 2 high-school baseball stars who’d blown out their elbows, a devout anti-abortion activist and an actor.
So that’s why mailmen are such a bunch of pussies, you see: they made us hire veterans.
Let’s get together sometime and compare cute dog bite stories.
Comatus, it was them or Bellevue.
It occurs to me that if we worried about offending everyone comedy itself would die a quick death. It’s just a joke like the ones men make about women, or women make about men, about blonds, the Irish, Baptist, Mormons, Jews, Red Necks, Liberals, people from California, blah, blah, blah, blah.
It was a joke, just joshing you, wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more….
Sorry I if offended anyone (the new O’dingdong mantra, to be used after every sentence ever uttered).
Every portfolio should consist in part of shotguns and canned goods. Even hoboes’!
Hobo! I just love that word! Soooo politically incorrect.
Over breakfast not long ago my mother (77 years old and could give a crap what anybody thinks) called ME a hobo! Apparently, hobos drink their coffee with the spoon in the cup, as I was doing at that moment, having forgotten all the manners she had taught me through my life.
I’m thinking I need to start a blog all about hobos. God I love that word.