I finally made it to Texarkana, and am sleeping at my ex-boss's house.
Well, not yet, have to telnet this message, then some sleep.
 
It's something like 4 in the morning; we have been up all night talking
about the good ol' days when I would get people mad at me, and he would have
to pull my butt out of the fire.  Lets just say I wasn't born in the south
and my liberal ways went unappreicated.
 
Bill: Ho Ho, he he.  Good comment tho'.  Honestly, I *always* recommend
cooking bone to kill bacteria and soften it somewhat, but in practice, I
rarely do.  I find these small splinters of bone under my futon, and behind
the bench, which means the beasts are busting apart the main bone shaft to
get the marrow, but there is never a problem.  But you are right; if feral
carnivores can eat mature uncooked bone without trouble, then immature
cooked-until-soft bone is a _non-problem_.
 
I can't wait to hear the response to what I said about chocolate.
 
Maggie: If people want to pay to get me in the same room as you, sell
tickets with the proceeds to a Ferret Defence Fund.  Hell, if people want to
pay to see me in the same room as BIG, both of us in bright orange boxers
and covered with Spanish moss, and the money used to fight biocratic
goofballs, I'm game.
 
[Moderator's note: Whew! Good thing I don't own orange boxers.  BIG]
 
Elizabeth: You may be my daughter, you may be pretty, but I *WILL* get even!
Never take peppers away from a man who has movies of you as a baby, swimming
in your birthday suit.  *you*are*dead*meat!*
 
Anyone want to see pictures of Lizardbreath drooling as she slept on the
couch?  He he he he....
 
Next stop: Austin TX.
 
Bob C on the road sans ferts
[Posted in FML issue 1936]