Following recent reports that two masked perpetrators were raising alarm in a town in West Virginia, police say they have reason to believe the troublemakers had just gotten wrecked. (See update below.)
The Milton Police Department reportedly received accounts of stumbling and disoriented raccoons at least twice in the last week, and locals worried the raccoons might have rabies. But those suspicions were evidently wrong, according to the department. The raccoons in question—including one who was identified by police as Dallas—had reportedly gotten wasted by eating some fermented crab apples.
Both raccoons have been safely collected and dropped off in the woods. The department noted that if you happen to stumble upon one of these drunk idiots, you should not approach them. Call the city’s non-emergency line and they’ll come to collect the bombed raccoon themselves.
Updated 11/15/18, 5:30pm ET: Speaking with Gizmodo by phone on Thursday, a representative for the Milton Police Department said it has now captured three raccoons and that two of them may have distemper. While all three raccoons were captured within 500 yards of each other, the department said that one of the first two raccoons was later discovered to be extremely ill and hadn’t moved more than several feet from where it was dropped off days before.
Asked for clarification about whether any of the raccoons were actually drunk on crab apples, the representative told Gizmodo they believe the first one police captured was. A city worker who did a check-up on that raccoon reported it was nowhere to be found, indicating to the department that it was healthy and just drunk at the time of its capture.
“It was up and mobile very quickly,” the representative said. “Sobered up, for lack of a better word.”
I find it appalling that these raccoons were not given their Miranda Rights!
Toss this piece of written nonsense. If it is a piece of paper…use it to wipe. Disregard it and hit the like button…As though you have read all of the blog, but indeed, did not!
Do with it as you please.
You, being, the fellow; blogger, reader, writer, artist…etc!
If I were in your shoes. To which, I have been…course, a younger version of my now ‘self’…I would have smiled, nodded and walked away saying,
‘Fuck that fruitcake!’
Course, none of what I would have just read, as youthful version of myself: Wouldn’t have been on something called, tablet, PC, laptop, multi media device. Every written item, by another creative writer, older but not as cute as I, would have been written, on a royal typewriter!
I held on this little shard of memorabilia. For obvious reasoning… witnessing the acme that now sits perfectly in the Bruce Willis jowls. Pretending that I am not only…post menstrual, but menopausal. Etc., etc., seems irrelevant to anyone under…49!
Yet, writing is cathartic!
What other up’s and down’s?
You gain weight. You cannot lose it in a nanosecond. The aches keep you up and the pills to take care of them…put you to sleep. You hope you see the moment where pot is legalized…before, the pills take your liver. You remember people who have gone on to greener pastures…with a song.
You get pissed with your spouse for jokingly saying that your feet…
‘Look like your grandmothers!’
Your spouse, also, recommends that you…
‘take it easy.’
After two hours of shoveling!
The list goes on and on…when This Is Your 50!
Therefore, for those who have gathered around my words…the two remaining followers who find this interesting…
I have developed a list.
A list I wrote on the way to the orthopedist…to schedule my fifth surgery in 1.5 years.
I will attempt to rate the following, as if addressing, my younger self. Because no one else should follow the examples of an old Hippie with an attitude problem.
When feeling edged out, attempt to not say things…you do not mean. Particularly when someone will call you out on…not keeping your side of the street clean.
Remember, every word counts.! Other than, can’t, won’t, shouldn’t.
Do one thing everyday that makes you feel uncomfortable.
Do not own it. If you did not buy into it.
Treasure who you choose to spoon with.
When adopting a four-legged friend…Do not pick them. Let them pick you!
‘I am Woman!’
The original version by Helen Reddy.
I have taken the liberty of providing it for you…
Sing it til your heart’s content. At least, once a month. Whether you need a feminist pick me up or not!
Buy a copy of Thelma and Louise and do not be afraid to cry at the end. I have also taken the liberty of providing a link of sage advice from the characters!
No matter your finances, save for that one item you have always wanted. Even if you can never afford it. The fun is in the joy of possibility!
Speaking of personal treasures. I finally bought my first moped about 12 years ago. I have graduated from .50 cc to 150 cc. I need a motorcycle licence so I can drive the big rig. 8 years ago…I blew a flat. The tire became stuck in the rear fender…And, ass over tea kettle I went. At about 40 miles per hour. I received a lot of physical damage and basically, shook when getting back on the bike, again, after the accident. No matter how frightening…if you fall off the moped…get back on!
Believe that there is a Higher Power for you…And, YOU, ain’t it!
Dogs really do smile.
Cats are some king of strange god…To which we will never fully understand.
Do not mask your truth with perfumes, dyes, make-up and unnatural colors. Wear you with dignity!
Hold your soul mate’s hand when they feel great. Have their back…when they feel small.
Always forgive those who have harmed you. No matter how long it takes. However, do not forget the hurt.
The hurt is part and parcel of who you are!
Make your own art. I had a friend who made decorations out of used soap. She sold the remnants online and boasted about cutting down on the ‘waste’…,cleaning up the environment! (no pun intended) I never understood the ‘meaning’ of her art. But appreciated the beauty of her dedication and imagination.
The hardest person to please is you.
The first person you should love…is you.
No matter how strange and unique you feel. No matter how alone your…particularly peculiar you is… After having lived 50 years and meeting many great freaky people…have great courage. There are more just as different as you are.
Never eat cheap Chinese take out and go on a carnival ride with an operator who weighs 500 pounds and has a t-shirt that says,
I Beat Anorexia!
Avoid using the word ‘hate’!
Better than purchased beauty? Free charisma!
Everyone has a story. Everybody has a badge of courage! Wear it with Pride!
In ending, or at least, until I hit 60! I have had to disconnect with a perpetually dysfunctional family. I have had to redefine what kindred spirits…I want in my life. For various reasons, a decision, with the help of my wife, to distance myself from karma that had bogged me down…most of my life. Physically, after all the surgeries, walking is not only a joy…it is a gift. Getting away with a day not blanketed in pain…is highly unusual. Yet, my writing, my photographs are inspired by the beauty outside my door…so as Gloria Gaynor puts it…
I will survive.
Enjoy the day, as if it will never come again…because it will not!
‘There is no rest for the wicked. But on occasion, it is okay to give yourself a break.
The sex? It isn’t always on a picnic table on top of New Hampshire’s tallest mountain.
However, the write-off is the gift. A gift that words cannot describe. A remembrance, a present, that there is a mutual acknowledgment between two people. An acknowledgment that nothing can replace what you have together! And, that nothing never will.
When I was small I believed in Santa Claus
Though I knew it was my dad
And I would hang up my stocking at Christmas
Open my presents and I’d be glad
But the last time I played Father Christmas
I stood outside a department store
A gang of kids came over and mugged me
And knocked my reindeer to the floor
Father Christmas, give us some money
Don’t mess around with those silly toys
We’ll beat you up if you don’t hand it over
We want your bread so don’t make us annoyed
Give all the toys to the little rich boys
Don’t give my brother a Steve Austin outfit
Don’t give my sister a cuddly toy
We don’t want a jigsaw or monopoly money
We only want the real mccoy
Father Christmas, give us some money
We’ll beat you up if you make us annoyed