Monday Morning Moos, Extra-Special Thanksgiving Edition

^Oops, that was me, Girtie, MOL!

Agreed, Gertie, moo. But lots of people eat ham, which is why I have Carl locked up in my panic bunker though the weekend.

Gertie (or is it Girtie now?), I’m dragging this from the previous thread because it is Perfect!

I and others couldn’t comment on the last thread because, you know, fences.

Whoever posted it, mooo.

Love will out, Fabiola, R3. I think that’s a lovely Thanksgiving Day story. At least he wasn’t eaten like that lady in New Zealand.

I’m not good at spelling, I don’t contest that. I am an expert moo-er, I will say. I think I can get an “amen” to that!

I’m think of starting a thread titled this: “Monday Morning Moos, Extra-Species Thanksgiving Meal Edition“

Thoughts would be appreciated.

I’ll bet you’re edible, R5. Ha!

Update:

I Anne-Franked Carl in my panic room through the weekend, but now he’s procured hooker swine somehow and they’re ringing for slop-plates.

*Tink, Tink, Tink. Your attention please.

We would like to hear the story of the Thanksgiving Otter, please. Everyone, gather ‘round.

Yes! Thanksgiving Otter, that’s really a thing?

Gertie, it’s time for the comprehensive, unabridged story of the Thanksgiving Otter, from A to Z.

I say this as your friend first, and secondly as a daughter to the preservation of our history. Come on now, dear, the future calls.

Moo! Oh my gosh, you don’t expect me to come up with that! Where is he, anyway?

LaFitte has stepped up to record your history, Thanksgiving Otter.

He even has a special smock for this honor, and it appears to read “Kiss the Scribe.”

Once upon a time, a septic system truck, and a city garbage truck collided on the corner of Lonely Street and Elm Street, and the Thanksgiving Otter was born. The end.

Yo cows. I'll respond to your questions about my life stories here or on my thread linked below. There ain't much to tell: born, fucked, drank, fucked, drank, dranked some more. I didn't even build my own holes. I sub-contracted them with Mediapolis money. I just live to drink and use Mediapolis/DL to help that. Ain't much to tell, ruminating, regurgitating two-stomach cows.

And now, the hens will perform a dance entitled, ahem, “Silence is Vast.”

Hit it, girls.

R14, you’re a bit of a come-down. I’ll pass. And I just spotted LaFitte thumbing one last ride back to the barn. He was still wearing his smock.

TO, do you know Roy? You sound a lot like Roy.

Barbara Feldon just invited all the MMM crowd to her place in Gramercy Park. Peanuts and Bourbon provided. Thanks, Miss Feldon, and rude gestures to the otter. Jerk.

Barbara stands down Otter.

A moment of worship for 99.

She really is stunning.

This is outstanding Michfest marketing right here.

Warhol noticed.

And now, back to disdaining Otter.

Uck.

Je no regret rien, otter, bitch.

Otter might be a good egg. You sound like a snake but you may well be a haunted baby bird. Hello, bird. Join the crowd.

Interruption:

I have a text from “Friend of Carl.”. Apparently the A&W stand cannot accomodate the order. Will Carl please phone in with a new credit card number.

I like you, Otter. You’re ok.

It’s Homer, I’m copping to being the big Barbara Feldon fan. Am I really the only one?

Oh, moo, I missed the whole thing! Why didn’t someone moo-me? I love Barbara Feldon. I’m just crushed. Someone else will have to do the Monday Morning Moo, I’m too upset.

Dear Sir, dear Madam, Mooooooo!

More cows and dogs at the link. From the other side of the world!

Farmer Derek’s Christmas video. (Sorry, Carl.)

I would not normally address an unnamed mooer, but r32? Here’s my exception.

The Tao of Phyllis @ r34. What are you pecking-out, dear?

Moo, girls, moo!

We have great things in store for 2020. The Gate is getting a complete makeover, I’m so excited. But for now, get your moos all out. We’re about to be locked in the barn all Winter and I don’t like that echo in there.

And Merry Christmas from Annabelle!

Moo for celebrity sighting

Flu moo, ahchoo.

Not cowpox?!