Thursday, September 29, 2011


i've read recently of some bad mommas.  i was in the grocery store sleeping in my pet human's pocket, when i poked my head out.  i smelled blueberry coffee wif a touch of hazelnut, my fav. ( today is national coffee day )  giving the aisle a sniff, i saw a cute girl in a cart, and she wanted some cereal, and her mom, like any mom,  did not think the brand was good for her, "no honey, not that cereal, let's pick another..."  to which the girl replied, quite loudly, so all of us could hear:  "YOU'RE A BAD MOMMY!!"

i dived for the safety of my warm pocket, wif a wiggle, and the pet human chuckled.  obviously, the lass had it backwards, but it might take her a few years to figure that out.  this is not the kind of mommy i am instantly referring to.  no, i'm talking about those mommys who provoke fights, and get arrested or find themselves on the evening news occasionally.  i read where one actually scheduled, set up the fight, then famously recorded the action on her iPhone.  was this for posterity, or to relish the lovely moment during the holidays?

why a mom would set up an after-school fight between two kids is beyond me.  whether by osmosis, or any other transference the kids involved will probably grow up to be bullies in the least, lead horrible lives; or become  drunkards, like my swedish Uncle Freddie. 

i have asked these two rapscallions not to wrestle in the street, it might give the neighborhood a bad rep, but they persist.   i've spoken to their mom, she's on the right, in the bushes, she seems to encourage their hood behavior. 

not only do the two offenders not care who sees their dysfunctionality, of which they are blissfully unaware,  they are quite comfortable stopping traffic, and letting the entire planet see this disreputable conduct.

should i even bother speaking to the mother?  i have mixed thoughts on this, i think she's just interested in finding another hit of fall berry sauce.


if you leave a comment, pls use your Twitter Handle

follow Sir Samuel Zeus Clemons on Twitter 

you might also like:  Uncle Freddie and the Drunk Elk:

a reader favorite:  "Harriet

Friday, September 23, 2011


tweets have to count.  twitter doesn't consider itself a "social network" but instead a microblogging site.  meaning, it's a blog, a record of what goes on.  but i don't get into  tweets like:  "i'm in my swimmy pool baff, and will be out in a minute"  to me, that is taking the whole idea of "micro" blog just a bit too micro.

there is the mathematical probability as well.  we have to understand our audience.  if i go to my "followers" list and see that well over half of them have fewer than 500 followers, then that has logical and common sense conclusions, at least for a ferret, you humans may come to another conclusion, and wallow in your oblivion, but we ferrets are too busy for oblivion, besides, we have to maintain a sense of decorum and dignity even if we are falling off the sofa in laughter.  ~wiggle wiggle~

ok, so let's break this down:  the Tweep only follows 200 people, half of whom are not even online right now, the other half have their Twitter open, but they are reading an article, or yelling at the kids.  the likelihood of them seeing a tweet from any one person is less than being struck by lightening or being hit by the space debris this morning.  ( the fastest way to see the following to follower ratio, or the following count is NOT on Twitter going thru one by one, but to log onto  which is FREE and set up the "columns" to show you the information you need, you'll see columns on the top tool bar after logging in )

so this leaves me no choice, my tweets have to count:  I HAVE to tweet something of value.  we have to tweet like we are the only tweet some people might see, because we ARE the only tweet they might see.  i'm just a lil furry ferret trying to be heard in a world of loud obnoxious humans, get my wiggles in, dance, nap, snack, have the twin masseuses over ( i have been paying their college tuition.. well, that's what they tell me ) write the next great critter novel, and still maintain an online presence ... whew! just writing that wore me out... not to mention get in calls to my therapist, and listen to my Uncle Freddie call me a moron every morning on speakerphone...

just last night, i tweeted this:  if God didn't intend to pilfer da smoked chickens, He wouldn't o left em on da coffee table

which is about as close as i get to micro talk... if it's going to be a mundane event, it's going to count....  i could have said:  "this smoked chicken is really good"  and in which case, you would think, "yea, but my smoked lobster was better"  or whatever else if anything.  but the idea here is that it has to be interesting...

 what kind of a pet human takes the time ( two hours ) to smoke a chicken, and leave it out on the table where i can snag it.....?? 


if you leave a comment below, pls leave your Twitter Handle

follow Sam on Twitter:

Thursday, September 8, 2011

uncle freddie and the drunk elk

it is no secret that uncle freddie is the family alcoholic.   he might think he's fooling someone, but we know.  if a house is known by the company it keeps, then freddie lives with jack daniels, and someone by the name of mr. smirnoff

rich, free wheeling uncle freddie in Sweden says it's quite normal for drunken elk to stumble around after hours, teetering, singing sailors' verse, and slurring a few words.

he's been known to frolick with them himself, and tie one on.  after closing down the bar, the friendly swedish cops keep their eyes out for them, as they make it back to the burrow, the elk  wavering down the street, laughing and keeping late hours with  freddie rambling picaresque adventures; in a bad impersonation of julio iglesias: "to all the ferrets i've loved before....." 

not surprised was freddie, when one of his drinking cohorts made the news, but fascinated was he when the story went viral.

this time of year, the elk imbibe on fermented apples; catch a buzz.  the elk in question was seen earlier in the day tottering through the street, mumbling, "deer get all the press..."

after working himself into a blackout drunk, the elk could not stop.  like a true addict, in his pickled stupor, he had to get one last apple from the tree.

nothing worse than a black out drinker
 it was that "just one more" apple that left the elk in an embarrassing position, bereft of dignity, yet ignorant of it all in his muddled, jumbled state - "just one more apple, Stella, just one more..." 

and that's where Per Johannson found him, "I thought at first that someone was having a laugh. Then, I went over to take a look and spotted an elk stuck in an apple tree with only one leg left on the ground," Johansson told newspaper The Local.

not having much luck freeing the inebriated critter, the fire dept was called, and the elk passed out in the yard...curled up in the fetal position.... after telling the firemen: "i love you guys...have i ever told you how much i love you? i reallyloveyou..."

by sun up, the elk, in true alcoholic fashion was last seen stumbling down the street to The Red Deer Grill....  presumably for a morning coffee, but you can never tell with uncle freddie's friends.

the elk may just do it all over again.  with rich alchy freddie right behind him.

follow sam on twitter at