Fruitless Shrubs and Nightcrawlers

Some things just never produce anything useful.

Even a freaking lowly earthworm can pinch a loaf that has a positive benefit.

Take the whole pot growing deal for example and let's contrast and compare the earthworm to the efforts of the growers.

Hey! Shut the damn door!

Big growers like Don, John, Tom, Dick and Harry make as though they are gonna squeeze off something tangible every time they show up to see the Soup.

They drop their drawers and talk your ear off but all they ever really do is 'file a motion' without completing the agreed upon deal.

Sometimes it looks like they're trying but all they can seem to manage is to fart and clear the room.

I knew a guy that used to think that was funny until the time he did it in a closed up car on a hot day and turned his pants into a strainer.

The big growers don't really want to actually fertilize the situation with anything that could be useful since they know that would mean they'd have to follow some rules so everytime it looks like somebody is gonna make some rules they make sure to show up with all the pachouli reeking dirtbags they can find to stand behind in case the shooting starts.

Then you got your earthworm. Earthworms dont stink like pachouli oil and they can stand by their decisions like the took the advice of that county dude Coal. He says decisions should be decisivecisions or something and the spelunkers couldn't agree more even if we don't know what that means.

Maybe the Waffler knows.

Big growers know that if a decisivecision happens their gonna have to follow some rules and it's gonna change the way they get to spend their dough and that's not a decisivecision they can really get behind.

They'd have to let Unc Sam know where the beamer and the house come from so they show up at all the meetings to make sure nothing actually gets done. Like filling potholes or whatever.

Then you got the earthworm burrowing along minding its own business and poopin' out some serious product that's probably even legal with the federal government.

If the fed could criminalize number two it probably would but the earthworm crawls around in that gray area of the law and gets all the credit and profit for what it's doing because of lack of government oversight.

I suppose if the g-people would get their act together they'd impose some regulations on earthworms and tax 'em til it hurt. 

The other cool thing an earthworm can do is fishing but these local asswipe growers can't seem to produce anything that isn't toxic. Which reminds me, just the other day I found out there's some kinda forest beastie called the fisher that the growers are killing.

So they aren't just not producing stuff, they are killing stuff I've never even heard of - like the fisher.

Keep out, dangerous peach.

I guess thats worse than one of those stupid ornamental fruit trees. Those Peach Surprise Cocktails you were looking forward to never happened after you spent all that time growing 99 peach trees on that empty lot you own.

But it ain't because the DEA ripped em out.

Surprise - no freaking peaches on ornamental peach trees so you wind up getting soused on rum and tripping over those sacks of potting soil you never did remember to put away.

Flailing around trying to combat the nastier side effects of gravity with your head sailing right into the trunk of one of those stupid fruitless wonders you think to yourself 'at least these stupid peach trees didn't kill the neighborhood pets.'

Who goes fishing in the forest anyway?

Supposedly it's some kinda rat and I haven't got a clue why they call it a fisher but nobody asked me when they were naming it. If they had I'd probably name it Merrill since that's some kinda rat too.

Pricklier Kinda Love

Ain't love grand?

So much love in the air these days. That relocated BOS meeting was just oozing love and people kept saying one love or something to bring it home. At one point the passion was almost too much for a couple of the more amorous types who almost got carried away with the passion.

Get any on ya?

Maybe it was the crowd or being in sexy old Fritch hall where the goat smell isn't so strong.

Maybe it's Rainbird's stylish hair donut on top of his coif but whatever it was Rainbird and Pineapple Boy just about couldn't keep their hands off each other. Some said it looked more like a fight but if the spelunkers know about anything its about mating rituals and that was the real deal.

Those two have such a crush on each other they locked eyes, gazed at each other and nearly lost themselves in the throes of passionate embrace right there in front of god and everyone.

I guess they were just so excited about the idea that the BOS were planning on letting them grow some plants or maybe it was because they were planning to file an injunction against the permission that their buddy Don Merrill the pot delivery boy had help craft.

I was a little bit confused about why Merrill would spend all that time going to those cultivation meeting deals only to sue when he got what he wanted but that's why I don't smoke today's blends. They really mess up your head.

I guess Merril just can't be happy anymore regardless of what happens. If he loses he's mad and if he wins he's mad. At least he's got plenty of resources to hire expensive lawyers when he wins so he can pretend he lost and that's why he sues.

We started thinking about what else might have happened and we went back to the beginning when the county did that first ordinance got passed and Merrill emerged onto the scene to help somebody else spend a bunch of money to make the soup not give permission to grow.

In those days they were saying that getting permission to grow was draconian. I looked that word up because it sounds pretty dang cool.

I'm Draconian!

And it is. It comes from a guy named Draco from a long time ago. Apparently Draco was so well liked that his supporters threw a bunch of hats, shirts and cloaks on his head that he suffocated, died and got buried where he fell. Kinda like Don Merrill did.

I'm not really sure how that relates to getting permission to grow pot but what the hell because Merrill's own Council of Four Hundred showed up to the meeting to explain how they should be able to grow as much weed as they want since they are stressed out. Hell, I'd be stressed out too if I had fifty plants in my yard that all the other scumbags wanted. I'd be so stressed I'd set up cameras and trip wires and unleash my hounds from hell to guard the stuff.

That is stressful stuff so I'd definitely want to smoke a bunch of weed to help me calm down so I didn't stumble into my own tripwires or get bit by one of the hellhounds when they weren't busy dry humping each other like Pineapple boy and Rainbird.

The False and the Furious

Ever watch some kid get caught in a lie? Its one of my favorite things since it just brings back all those warm childhood memories and the taste of cheap soap.

That's not cherry flavor!

Mom always stocked up when it was on sale.

Everything can seem like its going along just great then when you question whether that kid actually 'found' whatever it was that they were showing off they get all flustered and if you don't ease up on the truthiness they get furious.

I'm guessing francis' mom didn't buy soap wholesale like they did in my family.

Still mirthin' it baby!

Its kinda like that with our own despicable and vindictive conman francis. Okay, I didn't coin that one, that came from the Mayor of Mirthy-ness who just held his own confident-ness vote thing.

That Mayor guy didn't really come by it on his own either since the soup were already inviting revelers and truth seekers to their own cremation of confident-ness deal but got sidetracked by another one of francis' asswipe stunts.

I guess it all goes back to when francis was born. Or maybe he was a cute little tyke like most are. Could be it started with his first arrest or maybe his second. Whatever it is it all got rolling solid after he applied those skills he picked up getting arrested to transform himself like some bleary, directionless cocoon devoid of a moral compass into a law-man.

Most cocoons unleash beautiful and fascinating things into the world, except those f'd up killer clown cocoons like the one francis popped out of.


Everything was going along just great till francis quit going to work I suppose. Then when people started asking after him he clammed up like a steroid laced pit bull with his jaws locked on a campaign of transparency and started hurling out legal threats and lots of other tooth gnashing designed to change the subject.

What was the subject anyways?

Oh right, the cremation of confident-ness. That's what official people do when they quit believing stuff some other people say. The soup get so many telegraphs telling em how folks don't trust somebody anymore so they take away the confident-ness or something and that tells other people that something isn't on the level anymore.

Only this time most folks already knew nothing was on the level in the first place before the Poobah ascended to the royal throne of top law enforcement in the world or something so the other folks who decided to give the benefit of the doubt to the guy are falling off one by one under the withering fire of the truthiness crowd who knew the score in the first place.

Its all just pissed francis off royally.

Talk Real Slow

Some people are so damn dumb you have to repeat yourself when you tell em stuff and they still get it wrong.

I remember one time I had to repeat myself so many times once it pissed off the bartender and the bouncer so much those guys tossed me out in the street just because they couldn't understand what the hell I was saying.

Or maybe they did.

Hell I dunno I can't remember much about that evening or morning or whatever the heck it was.

Usually you don't see people talking about having to repeat themselves when some total dumbass either can't or won't understand the most basic crap. But sometimes, just every once in a glorious while you get to see some total fool get dressed down by one of the people they can't seem to understand.

It can be an embarrassing moment to hear such a thing like when it's you and somebody explains that you just can't understand much at all. Even more embarrassing than when you wet your pants or find out your bad ass guard dogs were humping their brains out when the garden got snatched.

Damnit Lucifer!

Other times it can be more enjoyable and it can sound like those bell deals or harps or whatever that sweet golden sound of angels and stuff sounds like.

It can be like when all the fruits line up on the slot machine deal and you get steak for dinner. That kinda enjoyable, good like steak.

With A-1 sauce even. 

That was what it was like when that buffalo dude told off francis recently. Seems francis has real bad comprehension issues and only wants to hear what he wants to hear or just doesn't know what the hell is going on because he's stoned or something.

Check the video - even the Waffler says he understood what the buffalo dude said even though francis just doesn't get it. Some folks, like francis, may not want to watch this one since like I said sometimes it's funner when it's somebody else.

Thing is, francis has been going around whining about stupid shit he says everybody else is doing because he probably thinks nobody notices the stupid shit he's doing. Lately he's been griping that the buffalo dude has a schedule conflict or something and can't make rules that affect francis' friends the pot growers.

By strange coincidence those pot head types have a real difficult comprehension problem too so for whatever reason they all sound just like francis. I'm not sure why that is but its like they share a maggot infested brain or whatever.

Load up the Batmobile.

You don't want a maggot brain like those guys.

Anyway so francis kept nagging the buffalo dude so much that finally the buffalo dude had to explain to everybody what francis' brain problem is.

Basically, francis is a retard so you have to repeat yourself a bunch and talk real slow. Real, real, real slow. But even that doesn't work sometimes so you just give up trying to explain stuff to them and just sit back while they do some stupid shit like those pencil dicks that pretend they are batman and wear their underwear outside their pants or whatever.

I thought only girls kicked francis in the nutsack but it looks like its open season on francis for co-ed nutsack hackysack and the buffalo guy drew the long straw.

Some people have all the luck.

Tom's Big Pole

Remember those guys who always had to compensate for some shortcoming so they got big fast cars, revved the engines up real loud and screeched around like mutated flying monkeys on speed? Yah those guys.

Turns out some of em were using steroids and it shriveled their nuts so bad their tighty whities fit kinda loose.

Other guys were just naturally handicapped so it wasn't their fault they had something to prove.

Our own federally convicted drug criminal Tom Cartel is like the second type, it isn't his fault and he wants everyone to know it but he doesn't really want to drive around in a hot rod since that would be so 80's.

Cartel was clearing some land for his garden far away from the noise and bustle of the task force helicopters and discovered he'd made kind of a mess. He didn't want to just leave all the stuff there, some folks might call it evidence, and as he stood there looking at the virgin growth redwood trees he'd just slaughtered and puffing on a reefer he had an idea.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Creative uses for dead trees.

Tom decided he'd find somebody dumber than him and convince them some of those slaughtered redwood trees might make good symbols of peace. What could possibly better symbolize peace than redwood trees brutally murdered in the pursuit of material gain through growing illegal drugs to sell to children, he'd just leave that part out and tell folks he 'found em.'

Kinda like when I was a kid and found my dad's metal grinder and used it to liberate a bike I 'found' that some control freak had chained up to the library fence. I found it, it was mine.

Tom figured once he found some other rebel without a clue he'd plunge those trees into the ground so everybody could see what a big pole he has.

Around the same time, idiot-point-one was trying to figure out how to raise some money without actually having to do another fund raiser so they gathered their collective heads, nearly got a rock pile together and chose one of the most violent, divisive times the county had ever known and call it the summer of peace so they could go around asking everybody for money.

So they got Tiara San Jawn to be the patsy and go around asking for money so she could declare this summer the summer of peace. But Tiara wasn't content to simply call it the summer of peace and hold hands around a campfire singing like most folks do because that wouldn't mean any money for idiot-point-one.

She huffed and she puffed and went around to all the local offical type folks and asked them for some cash so she could throw one big shindig and call it the summer of peace.

Much to her surprise, they all said no.

Tiara had to figure out some way to pull off her plan since it didn't look like she was going to get to take tax dollars that pay for stuff like parks and such for her peace thing.

Enter Tom Cartel. Who better to celebrate something as nonsensical as the summer of peace when the county is at war than one of the main thugs?

And Tom likes the idea since it means he can stuff his pole into a crack and show everyone how big it is.

Then after summer time the cops can show up and rip out Tom's and everybody elses plants so they don't have to mess up all those peace pipes they buy this summer.

Nothing says peace like killing redwood trees and guarding pot plants with rifles and pitbulls.

Sum quoque Donec enim negotium

Some people never learn. Like me, I sometimes do the same doggone thing over and over again and never learn how to quit wasting my time with it. Like Dishes for instance. If I could really learn I'd probably get some paper plates or some of those cool biodegradable eatin' deals I could just toss in the back yard like my neighbors do.

Actio ante protocollo

Unlike yours truly, francis seems to have gained an appetite for education though.

At least I learned to quit going to school after I was old enough to buy beer and hit the strip bars when I was around fifteen.

Word is francis is over studying to be a liar since he's just isn't so good at it without some formal law school education stuff.

So francis packed up his favorite Sponge Bob lunch box with some nifty snacks and scooted along to class. He can get lots of snacks since his GOB job pays a boatload more than mine does and he doesn't even have to go to work to collect it.

I show up an hour or two late four or five times in a week and my boss starts to behave like I don't deserve my job or something.

Kinda feel bad for the guy having to drive all the way down to Santa Rosa four times a week but I guess the county probably pays for the gas so that's good.

I suppose.

Thing is francis has so much use for legal opinions he's decided to learn what those really are. Besides, he gets to hang out with some smart folks they probably have all kinds of interesting conversations that he'd really like to understand. Maybe some smarts will rub off on him after a while.

Time will tell.

Opus calidum legalis consilio, infantem?

On the other hand that place is probably chock full of hot lawyer gals he can brush up against and cop a feel.

That's probably it.

At least that's about the only reason I'd go to law school anyway. The rest of that lawyer crap is dull as hell and they make you remember so much stupid shit. And who cares about latin besides that goofy dork from that movie anyway?

The only latin I know is Vicecomes superfluum carnis and I don't have a clue what that means. Sure glad I'm not a lawyer since the only place latin comes in handy is in a courtroom and south of the border.


Could be he's got wind that he's gonna be spending some time in a courtroom and just wants to know the language so he doesn't make an ass of himself like usual.

That would be a welcome relief for sure.

Twas the night

 A rock hurled into the cave had this note attached. So we thought oh what the hell, let's share it.

Twas the night before the election and all through the Lovelosers house, not a creature was stirring not even Phil’s arse. All the sample ballots were hung by the door jam with care, with hopes that Francis would soon shoot one there.

Bruce, Tom and Brian were nestled all snug in their one bed, with visions of a Moss victory dancing in their heads, and when outside of the double-wide there arose such a clatter, Bruce sprang from his bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window he flew in a flash, pulled down the soiled sheet and threw up his hands.

The moon on the primer gray Chevy gave off such a shine, when what to his bloodshot eyes should appear, but 'ol possum head’s rattling pickup holding eight dead deer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick, Bruce knew in a moment it wasn’t another Lovelace dick, more rapid than Tom chasing a cheeseburger and fries, possum head leaped out, and he whistled and shouted and called out their names.

Now Dwain, now Ron, now Frank and Becky and on Olga and on Phil, and on with you Blackmoore. And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof, the prancing and pawing of many police hooves.

As I drew in my head and was turning around, down through the roof came a buffalo rancher. He was dressed in all leather, from his head to his foot and his clothes were all tarnished with Loveloser's hashish soot.

A bundle of warrants he held in his hands. His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples how merry, his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry. His gunmetal .45 ready to shoot and his humor as dry as 'ol possum head's solitary tooth.

He had a broad face and a little round belly that shook when he laughed, like Joan’s KY jelly. He was chubby and plum, a right old jolly dude, and Bruce laughed when he saw him knowing he was dead. With a wink of his eye and a twist of his cuffs, the rancher moved quickly and arrested them all.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to work, and torched their double-wide and Joan’s only tooth. Laying his finger aside of his nose, he sprang up through the roof and flew them away in his gas-powered sled.

I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, Lovelosers are busted, and to all a good night.

Batter Up Bitch

We just finally stopped laughing after Muabladar nearly pissed himself. It's all fun and games till somebody wets the nylon couch and you have no idea how hard it is to dry crap out inside a cave.

Seems 'ol Possum Head, that failed lifequard formerly know as Bojangles, tried to get all up on some other gal's grill last week and wound up getting the heave-ho for her trouble.

Normally I'd pay good money for a chick fight but somehow this one just put me off my cheetos.

We all knew something had happened that wasn't kosher and then somebody said that sneaky long story place actually told the tale of the taller, fatter, older skank and her failed attempt at fisticuffs. The shrubber hasn't been reading much news lately so it seemed like a good idea to check in and see if all the chatter was for real.

Total bonzai boomerangin', jaw droppin', slap your thigh and laugh out loud for real  as it turned out. Usually we just laugh under our breaths since I can't risk some dumbass getting the wrong idea and screwing up my sweet GOB job for me so I have to go find some other way to pay for beer and snacks.

Seems this teeny weeny gal Mindy over at the easy reading place came in to work and invited gigantasorus 'ol Possum Head to visit with her in the office when things went south in a hurry for big 'ol Possum Head's foray into local politics. Forsooth.

Nobody seems to know what really happened but the end result was that the police got involved and the monstrously huge 'ol Possum Head got her ass kicked out of the easy reading place for taking a swing and a miss with two strikes and nobody on base.

Guess whooooo?

Game over.

Seems kinda odd that some grotesquely huge broad could have any trouble at all swatting an itty bitty little gal like Mindy but word has it that leviathan-like 'ol Possum Head has poor eyesight or something.

Hell maybe she was just drunk, it happens.

Like I remember once sipping a cold one and causing enough trouble to get my ass kicked too, but that's a whole other story for another time.

So the blind drunk abnormally large old goat got herself an escort to the door and was politely asked not to return by the burly dudes from out back who  tossed her onto her head in the street outside the easy reading place.

I guess she's lucky she didn't have to snack on her own teeth that day since the folks over at the easy reading place are just plain too nice to do a thing like hit back or something.

I wonder if we've heard the last of that chapter but one things for sure, if that monstrous freak of  were the one draining out my bed pan I'd be thinking about a new IHSS worker for sure.

Missing, no Action

The other day the spelunkers noticed something had been odd for a while, a long while. Here at the cave we don't usually pay much attention to stuff but it occurred to us that the mood seemed different.

We quit chomping on celery and tortilla chips for a minute and listened, it was quieter. No gnashing of teeth, no crying or shouting. But what had changed?

We decided to ask Francis what was going on since he's the head-cheese and went and knocked on his door. But no answer. So we called him. But no answer.

We never did get a call back and started to get worried that the douchebag might have hurt himself so we sent a search party out looking for him to see where he might be.

 

We looked all over, we searched and searched at the Sharuf's dungeon, some crime scenes, at a drive by shooting place, in a crowd, in some bushes and at the bottom of the lake among the other bottom feeders but still couldn't find him.

Spot the Poobah!

We even took a picture of him around to help taxpayers remember what he looked like but no such luck. Sorta like POOF, he's vanished and nobody knows where he is.

Poor francis is missing, if you've seen him tell him to stay where he is since things are quieter around here.

Must be nice to have a high paid gig where you don't even have to check in. Wonder what he's hiding from?

Difficult decisions...

Over here at the cave we've been trying to figure out who to endorse. Since we aren't really creative we decided to just go ahead and look at two candidates for supervisor.

First we have that buffalo guy, according to the easy reading newspaper place he's a decent sort and brushes his teeth and stuff. He goes to meetings on time so he's good enough and smart enough and dog gone it people like him.

Then somebody threw 'ol possum hat into the ring. We weren't sure who was better but we saw that easyreading thing and found this video.

But it looks like this candidate is running for destruct five and we aren't sure where that place is or if we even get a vote there.

We're trying to make up our minds.

Think Outside the Soup Box

Some people have all the luck. Seems some gal over at the jail that francis didn't like got the boot but since the boot was laced wrong or something she's gonna get her gig back. I've never had that kinda luck. Rehired on a technicality or something.

From what I can tell from the long story place francis fired her for something that was none of his business or something so she got a lawyer and went and kicked francis in the nuts like a champ.

Damn that dude gets kicked there a lot.

If I were him I'd get myself some serious protection like a titanium codpiece or whatever.

I guess what happened is the gal liked working at the jail so much she didn't really care if francis fired her since nobody likes him anyway so she got her lawyer and they had some kinda meeting where some other guy was supposed to tell her to pack her stuff but didn't because francis didn't show up to tell her to pack her stuff. Maybe that's not exactly how it went but all those words made my head hurt so I got some ice cream to fix it but then got one of those messed up ice cream headaches on top. Corn dogs and mustard did the trick.

Then francis got really mad because the soup told him since he didn't show up at that other meeting he'd have to give that gal her job back. Supposedly francis didn't go to that meeting because he doesn't want to admit he's not real good with the facts, liar my dad calls it, and just stayed home screwing around with his propaganda blog instead.

And francis figured he could always get some Rid from the superstore and fix those lice that have been bothering him. Or was it writ?

So francis went to see the county lawyer gal and she told him he was in kind of a pickle since the soup had already made their decision and they get the last say on that stuff. So then he figured he could go back to the soup and see if they'd let him spend some money to get a lawyer to make them change their minds. francis really, really needs a lawyer.

Way outside the thinking box.

After he mulled it over and remembered what happened the last time he asked the soup to get him a lawyer he changed his mind again and cracked out his special, different thinking, non-county issued laptop, plugged it into the county tube thing to figure out how to do it himself. francis is good at thinking different so pretty quick he came up with a plan.

Since he couldn't get the county to pay for his law paper stuff he had to do it on a budget so he downloaded some forms from elcheapofantasylegalkitsforfrancisandotherasswipes.blogspot.com to fill out and make his worries go away.

Now all he has to do is find a judge to hear him out.

Dicovering Self Doubt

Remember that time you tried to impress the cool girl at the party by beer bonging a half a gallon of malt liquor and telling her how fine she was?

Do your friends suck too?

How surprised you were that that girl didn't want to get to know you better after you gurgled something stupid and hurled malt liquor all over her shoes before you passed out in a pile of puke?


Then you found out what assholes your "friends" are.

It helped you learn your limitations and approach stuff a little differently, didn't it?

Seems some folks don't experience that sort of essential, transcendent vision quest early in life and are doomed to walk their path thinking they really can do whatever they set their mind to. Just like with all those other classes you skipped, you get to do a make up.

Those folks get the lesson later on in life.

Problem is, the older you get the harsher the lessons can be, you can forget waking up in a cooling pile of vomit when you were a kid since you were probably blacked out anyway but the stuff that happens later - that stuff sticks with you.

Francis is in the process of learning that lesson, maybe its because the cool girls never talked to him in the first place or maybe it has something to do with having a lawyer for a dad. Whatever the reason, it looks like his make up class is coming around.

Francis used to get by doing whatever the hell he wanted and when somebody had a problem with it he'd call em a racist and go along his merry way.


That happened in Frisco when he decided he wasn't getting his share of corpses and it made it hard for him to pursue his passion of burning people.

So he painted a Nazi symbol on his locker and started a big fuss about racism that got everyone's attention. Kinda like when somebody painted a Nazi symbol on the road down in Middletown that time.

This time around on the tax dollar merry go round francis's only soup fan couldn't get even get him 1 large to help pay for his lawyer bff but that's not enough for his lawyer bff to buy a new suit with anyway so that guy is probably thinking francis is a dick and didn't really have the lock on the deal he said he did.

Stuff isn't the same like it was before though or maybe its the same but different kinda since francis seems to be gettin' a dose of the reality check thing and it's a pricey remedy for what ails us.

The Piggy Bank

The local tradition of recognizing girlscouts, and girlscout cookies, was observed by the soup and everybody had a great time and got their picture taken. In a small twist, the girl scout pictures will also reveal a guy with a mustache as part of the group. The cave thinks thas great because over here we oppose discrimination in all forms and we really, really, really like cookies.

Mmmm Cookie

Especially the thin mint ones with the chocolate on the outside and the green goodness on the inside.

Then the tradition continued and another girl scout with a mustache came back to keep on begging for a handout from the taxpayers to help him pay for his friend to sue the county. That didn't go as smoothly as francis hoped and he wound up not getting anything from the piggy bank again even though one of the soup tried really hard to help him get some of the loot.

Brian's mom offered two things to give money to francis' attorney but nobody did the other part so those things didn't go anywhere.


Everybody else voted to let francis go ahead and get his own lawyer.

But that wasn't the interesting part. The interesting part came later when Donny DA tried to crack the piggy bank for some super dooper secret squirrel spy stuff he wants that lets him snoop on cell phones. At first it seemed like a normal thing where he has a tool he needs for stuff and so the soup buys it for him so he can do the public safety thing better.

Not everybody wants Donny DA to have that super dooper secret squirrel spy stuff though. Turns out francis decided Donny DA was trying to use some of his allowance for that stuff and doesn't want to make any cracks in the piggy bank. But then Donny DA showed the soup how that part of the piggy bank really is for super dooper secret squirrel spy stuff for him.

francis still didn't like it, almost like he didn't want super dooper secret squirrel spy stuff for people that might use it on him.

Soup Jeff said that all the chefs get together to decide this stuff just like always so he was confused why francis didn't know that it was okay for Donny DA to have the super dooper secret squirrel spy stuff. Seems soup Jeff doesn't know that francis quit going to the chefs meeting things.

Or maybe he did.

I guess there were a couple of people there who don't seen the purpose in super dooper secret squirrel spy stuff if it could be pointed at them.

A big backyard

Seems some kinda courty judgemental ruling thing has the local pot heads in an excited state. They're all juiced up because some court decided they can't shut down pot stores just because they are a nuisance.

Too many sparks.

But I don't recall anybody saying the pot stores are a nuisance.

Far as I'm concerned a nuisance is when the exhaust pipe deal on the Yo mobile falls off that coat hanger I used to fix it and starts draggin on the road as I'm scooting down the road at full blown ramming speed.

Happens to everyone.

Noisy and kinda sparky like when you take a grinder to some kids bike lock when he's not looking. Big orange showers of sparks shooting out from under the Yo mobile on a hot summer day look cool for sure but for whatever reason the police cops always take a dim view.

That's why its a nuisance.

Startin' to look like the pot stores might get to open back up again and the police cops won't do jack to them but they always seem to spot my sparks. Course the pot stores have to be at the pot factory or they can't be pot stores.

Shopping trip!

I figure that's a good idea since it means those guys will get to have big backyards on the one hand and on the other it'll be real easy for the folks that don't want to grow but want to harvest anyway to figure out where the big grows are.

That should cut down on the freakin' epidemic of home invasions which is good since that was risky and now you can just look up the address and do the old google map to figure out a good time to pay a visit.

The Brady Flu

When you get sick folks can usually tell because you're all sneezy and coughy and hackin' up globs of colorful goo that gets all over everything. Do gooders carry around all kinds of stuff to wipe that goo up and keep you from smearing it on phones and stuff that other folks might touch and catch whatever you've got. Some kinds of sick don't look the same though and you can't easily tell that the guy next to you in the peep show might have some kinda sick you could catch.

Francis has that kinda sick, he doesn't have the telltale cough or the spewing junk that usually give it away, til he opens his mouth and starts suing folks. Sometimes he can't even go to meetings he sets up himself so Patador has to try and help out but everybody just wants to talk to francis.

francis' sick is hidden in his head.

Dr. Donny DA examines a real sick patient.

Mostly you can't tell but it leaks out through his mouth just like most kinda sick does. And it can affect a lot of people just like the spanish flu or the black plague did too.

The only real difference is that francis' sick doesn't kill people outright, it just infects things like budgets and morale so those things waste away. Sometimes it even infects other people if they are in too close of contact with it for a while.

Francis' sick is called the Brady flu and it only happens to police cops who can't seem to keep their story straight when confronted with the harsh realities of the legal system. Its preventable but once you get it, that's that.

And there's no cure.

Symptoms can be pretty severe, some sufferers experience a protruding probosis that can be misdiagnosed as Pinocchioitis and can be cured by the Blue Fairy. Another symptom can be repetition of an important story with minor changes each time and the inability to come up with rational explanations for the stupid shit you get involved in.

Fortunately there is a specialist in the LC that treats this disease and his name is Dr. Donny DA. Only a certified Brady doctor can perform the requisite examination to determine whether the patient has the Brady flu or is just a douchebag. The examination can be a grueling experience that reveals all sorts of disgusting things once the doctor starts scraping away at the telltale falsehoods that may indicate the Brady flu.

If the patient is determined to suffer from the Brady flu there is nothing that can be done as the condition is incurable and its even more embarrassing than herpes because it never ever goes away even for a minute.

So francis is trying real hard to convince people he doesn't have the Brady flu and what's really going on is that most healthy people just don't like him so they made it all up even though lotsa folks have seen his flu in action.

Brave Sir Francis

Bravely bold Sir francis Rode forth from his compound.
He was not afraid to lie, Oh brave Sir francis.
He was not at all afraid To use his blog in nasty ways.

Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir francis.

He is not in the least bit scared To spew lies on idiot-point-one. Or to lie on PEG, and in his reports.
To have his followers split And his legacy burned away, And his frenemies hacked and mangled Brave Sir francis.
He wasn't afraid to challenge the soup and tell them what they think.
Brave enough to swagger in, he puffed his chest and straightened his belt and changed his tune.
When time arrived to explain himself, he put Patador in charge and bravely ran away.

Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir francis.

He is phoning it in and packing it up
And sneaking away and buggering up
And pretending he's sick and staying home,
Yes, bravely he is throwing in the sponge.

The Ethics Experts

Mayor of Mirth

Galactic Emperor and Poobah of all he surveys Sharuf Francis has been preparing a backup plan if the whole sharuf thing doesn't work out by reading up on some old Emily Post stuff and decided to put his newly discovered etiquette training to the test the other day by schooling the Clearlake Mayor on manners.

The way we heard it, francis was taking Mayor Joey to task because of something funny that Joey wrote about land, air and sea domination in the LC but we didn't get to hear the deal since Muabladar was using the radio to listen to some country music and practice line dancing for a date or something, like that's gonna happen.

Supposedly francis got miffed about some silly joke but over here at the cave we figure it's like most stuff and there is more than meets the ears. Seems more likely that francis doesn't appreciate how some folks don't bend way over at the waist, grab their ankles and do what francis wants, when francis wants it.

The spelunkers special Ouija board says, among other things, that francis didn't want santa clausen to be the head police cop over there in the land of the lost but would settle for another background check on santa clausen since that would stall the whole thing and give him more time to paint santa clausen in a bad light so he could get rivero's raving minions to show up at council meetings and make such a huge ruckus the council would have to give them the time of day.

Everybody wants to know.

But Mayor Joey thought that was a dumb idea since santa clausen had already gotten his background checked out by the town proctologist before he became the head police cop in the first place. That's probably why francis really got upset even though he pretended like he was mad about the joke.

Only problem is the legion of rivero's raving minions has been reduced to sub legion numbers like maybe three or four and so all they were able to muster was the splitter and we all know how effective that was.

So francis got spittin' mad, went on idiot-point-one to complain about a joke and they had to wipe down all the surfaces that he got all that spit on even though he was spittin' about the wrong thing like all he understands is those herring things and doesn't have the gumption to simply say whats on his mind since then we'd all know for sure how upside down his mind is.

Must be tough having an upside down mind. We tried it for a while over at the cave and hung upside down from the monkey bars but it just made us not feel very good and all that blood flowing into our heads made our faces red just like when francis is complaining about something other people did even though when he does it its all good.

Anyway, we're all super impressed that francis has figured out the decorum conundrum and hope he decides to practice what he preaches. Only problem is that Emily's learned area was manners and not ethics but francis doesn't seem to get the distinction since he sucks at both.

Junior's Red Wrestling Herring

Wrestling has never really been the shrubber's thing. Its all sweaty and huggy and stuff and both those things aren't really the sort of stuff the shrubber likes doing with a whole bunch of strangers.

Don't misunderstand the shrubber - sweaty hugs are pretty neat under the right circumstances.

Thankfully francis' propaganda blog has plenty of interest in sweaty young men and they turned the 'watch' into the wrestling channel. Otherwise we'd never know what a putz junior is so its all for the best I suppose.

Lately francis has been all about the huggy sweating since it beats talking about other stuff he doesn't want to talk about. Like why he wants the county to hire him a lawyer to help him sue the county, for example.

Suspender dude makes a lot of noise

Here's a picture of some wrestly stuff, look how excited that one guy in the suspenders is.  He's yelling so loud he got some other guy's attention.

Probably even the wrestlers can hear suspender dude yelling just like the real coach is.

That might be because suspender dude used to be a coach before the school decided to give him an unexpected vacation for all the wrong reasons, his name is junior.

Junior is the reason francis' propaganda blog became the wrestling channel since he stole a kid's school paper and got caught. But francis doesn't want to arrest suspender dude because that guy doesn't like one of the soup that francis is afraid of and maybe that's why suspender dude took the paper in the first place.

francis lives in a complicated world.

I guess junior decided supporting the kids just wasn't going to be so much fun if he couldn't break the rules so he quit after this picture was taken.

Its all really confusing but the one thing we can be sure of is that francis thinks this is the best way to keep attention off of him.

The cave isn't so sure.

Santa Clausen Comes to Town

Some folks may recall when the spelunkers cast shadows on the wall that revealed in morbid detail just how much crazy had settled in down in Clearlake.

We even did a bitchin' graph - in color.

Well the percentage of crazy was so high, no pun intended, that it seemed inevitable that eventually somebody from the crazy contingent would wind up on the council. Sure enough, enter Jeri Splitter. Jeri is a prime example of the sort of smack talkin', dropped in a vat of ether at birth, off the deep ended kinda stuff we're seeing lots more of lately and her most recent performance the other night was pure frothing nutz.

They call her 'splitter' because she's about as fractured as a walnut smooshed with an 8 pound sledge.

We didn't have time to put together a fancy chart like that other time so we went out back to the shed and found the trusty ol' crazy-o-meter and dusted it off. Dang thing still works and you'll never guess what it measured.

Full blown cracker dog, running in the pool area with scissors needle pumping insanity action.

The meter works just great

Over here at the cave we decided to bolt that sucker onto the yo mobile and cruise around fishing for fruitcakes. 

Over the jeers from the audience voter people yelling "shut the hell up" and other choice phrases, you could barely make out Splitter moaning about how she didn't dig the new chief cop Santa Clausen and coming real close to blabbing about the super dooper secret squirrel stuff the council talks about in 'closed' session.

Don't really understand why they call it 'closed' since if the council is closed why don't they just go home and curl up on the couch with some fritos and watch reruns or pick their toes or something.

Seems folks were most likely telling her to shut up because she's a total whack job with nothing sane to contribute but shoot it would be cool if she'd blab and let us all know what happens in that santum sanctorium deal where they do the secret stuff. Who cares if its against the law?

Anyway, while the dang place nearly erupted into a good old fashioned tar and feather deal with Jeri on the sticky end of the feathers the other council members just did the usual council stuff and got themselves a new chief cop.

Too bad the new chief isn't buddies with the sharuf but that might have something to with francis trying to arrest him before or maybe it has something to do with francis holding black ops down there in crazy town.



I'm guessin' Santa Clausen probably doesn't have any cool schwag for francis in his bag. Then again, maybe he does.

El Roman Gnome

The spelunkers crew likes it in the cave, it's cool and dark and aside from the damp slime soaking the crunchy snacks it's a nice place to hang out in privacy and get stuff done. Not that you can get much done in a cave besides casting strange shadows on wall etchings but that's what the spelunkers do so it has a kinda yin-yang kinda deal goin on.
Does anybody know how to dry out a ho-ho without turning it into a puddle you have to scoop up with a spoon and a straw?

Other folks like to work in private too, folks like the roman gnome, we'll call him 'Ed' to protect the innocent, who hasn't really been on the radar lately but who's presence is still felt. The roman gnome got Victoria Brandon to run against Jim Comstock for example without ever poking his head out into the light.

Now why might that be?

Is it possible the roman gnome has some super secret squirrel deal goin on he wants to keep quiet? Or is Ed just hiding out from all the ex-missus roman gnomes?

Seems Ed sorta dropped off the radar after spending time with the scrubbin' bubble and presiding over the demise of the pothead permission slip the first time around. Word has it he's got some acreage and might have some plans out there if things go his way.

Is Ed helping francis with the search for the rainbow pukin' unicorn? We think he might be, or maybe he's just out wandering around amidst the local flora.

Here's some very rarely seen shrubbervision footage of the unicorn, watch closely for the unicorn, if you pause at just the right spot you can make it out.

Yeehaa!

Language Skills

Sometimes when legal intimidation doesn't work out the way you plan you have to resort to other forms of intimidation. Carrying a gun lends itself to all kinds of neat body language things you can do to convince people that your strong arm tactics aren't to be ignored.

Of course, people have to notice.

Seems francis wasn't too pleased when the soup declined to write him a blank check so he attempted to use a little old-school body language to let em know who's boss. Kinda like hanging a gun outta yer belt when you're in court or in class but slightly more subtle.

Only Jeff Smith seemed to notice the gesture and you can see Jeff pause as it occurrs to him... 'so this is it, this is how it all ends...'

Relieved that he was just imagining things, Jeff puts on his glasses and the mirage fades away.

But nobody else paid attention so francis didn't achieve what was probably the desired result.

That meant it was time to scuttle off with Mr. Coke and a Smile to go find the phone number for his favorite legal advisor and get some tips on more successful intimidation tactics or something.

Road Rage and Disappointment

This is part deux of a deux, or trois maybe, part thing. Part un of deux parts can be found here.

Invigorated from an evening mowing down constituents in his pickup, Sharuf francis sat down with the board of soups to try his hand again at getting them to pay for his attorney while he figures out what to sue the county for. "Nothing's more rejuvinating than hitting a pedestrian," francis greeted the soups, "I feel great!"

His glee was not long lived.

While slamming his pickup into a pedestrian might have given francis a newfound sense of confidence and a bounce in his step it would take more than that to get what he wanted from the soup.

Seems that the whole soup bowl heard about that guy getting run over by francis and took a dim view of elected types running over voters. Sure hope that guy is ok and his wife practices a different kinda law than civil cause otherwise francis is gonna need another lawyer too.

During the meeting francis decided the best way to get the soups to do what the Poobah wants is to tell the soup group what it is they believe and straighten em out when they don't believe what he wants em to.

For real, here it is in full unicorn pukin' color, now with organic porky pig stuttering!

Seems at least one of the soup had been doing his homework since all this stuff came up and Soup Rob went off to grab his cliff's notes to show francis that he'd been paying attention. When he came back Soup Rob read some of the law paper gobbledy-gook and he and francis argued about who could read better since francis said he'd read the same thing but included stuff that wasn't in Soup Rob's cliff notes.

Then the waffler weighed in and, lo and behold, he kinda seemed to have changed course on the whole deal. Shocker. Seems Tony had talked to Donny DA and Donny told him it would be ok to save some dough if the in-house lawyer people could do it with a used Cone of Silence from that old TV show where that guy drove that bombin Sunbeam Tiger.

Anyway this Cone of Silence deal is supposed to make it so somebody in the county lawyer place can do whatever it is francis wants without spending a whole lot of dough or something. It'll be interesting to see how that works out and if francis goes for it or does something stupid instead.

My hunch is that its probably not what francis wants, so maybe we'll get part trois!

But the most important thing is francis has friends to rely on, like the two guys in this next video, the scrubbing bubble and john Coke and a smile.

I wonder why they call him coke and a smile?

Rockem Sockem blogs

Truth has a nice ring to it and its true so I guess that's a point in it's favor.

 Somebody tossed a rock into the cave the other day and while we were sweeping up we noticed the note tied to it with a blog place scrawled on it and we're so dang curious we had to go check it out.

lcsotruth.blogspot.com seems like a place where some folks that francis has dumped on are taking the opportunity to dump back only they have bigger shovels.

May the best blog win.

Only its different from francis' propaganda blog cuz it isn't a solitary raving nutcase blow hard pretending not to be working for francis. And the truth blog doesn't wander around with different topics like francis' propaganda blog either. francis' propaganda blog has a dumb name too. When they started it right before an election they named it after the old Sheriff but he's not the Sheriff anymore and they got stuck with that name and don't know how to change it. But once the old sheriff wasn't sheriff anymore they didn't know what to do so its still named after the old Sheriff.

I guess the old Sheriff thinks that pretty funny since its like they'll always know him as the Sheriff. Probably francis doesn't think its all that funny.

The truth blog has some pictures and those are great but the coolest thing is they don't spend much time deletin' like francis' stockboy does. francis stockboy likes to keep a certain type of product on francis' propaganda blog shelves but sane people keep putting other stuff on the shelves that he has to take down. Stockboy spends a lot of time taking stuff down.

There might be as many as two nutcases working on francis' propaganda blog but it seems like only one of em has any real control so the other one is called the eunuch. Or maybe eunuch is a name. I dunno.

I've heard of Eunice before but that's a girls name and maybe Eunuch is a name for a boy that isn't fully committed to a particular gender or something.

So these two blogs are going at it over francis. On the truth blog they have a bunch of what francis said compared to what he did and a bunch of what he did on top of what he said he would do but didn't and other stuff he said he wouldn't do but did. On the not truth blog they don't have any pictures or any stuff that francis said and it kinda looks like somebody twisted up a fat doobie spliff and sat down to do some creative writing.

I never realized how viciously stupid a dooby spliff could make you til I looked at francis' propaganda blog.

Scrubbing bubble Esquire

One of the finer points of bloggery is the comments stuff and both blogs have comments that you don't have to put your name on. On francis' propaganda blog they boast about being anonymous like those folks that drink too much and on the truth blog they just don't want francis to figure out who they are because of what he said he wouldn't do but did anyway and they have bills to pay that francis might put a stop payment thing on.

francis' propaganda blog's stockboy doesn't like that the other blog is anonymous too. Neither does the scrubbing bubble, Esq.

So they go over and taunt the truth blog.

Over here at the cave we don't worry about stuff like that and figure if neither survives the francis deathmatch the cave will still be here.

A Study in Scarlet

Sherlock finds a clue

The spelunkers crack research unit took a break from researching the snack shelf to use the interweb thing and look up a name they found on the long story place. The name they searched was Ronnie Campos junior since spelunkers always laugh when middle aged guys are named junior.

And spelunkers like to laugh.

Amazingly the interweb search thing found the same place the spelunkers found the name in the first place and junior got two outta three top billings on the goggle.

I bet he's pleased to be famous like that.

Seems Ronnie got involved in some intrigue and started in motion a chain of events even he could not predict.

The story begins in locker room ripe with the smell of sweaty wrestlers and gym socks. While some wrestley guys were out pushing each other around on a mat somebody snuck into the locker room, stole a secret paper and took it back to his lair. Once the theft was discovered Sherlock Holmes was dispatched from 221B, Baker Street to solve the mystery.

Several moments after arriving, Sherlock led the search party to the home of Junior where they found the missing paper and another clue. Above Junior's bed they found the words Schließmuskel Licker which Holmes remarked is German for sphincter licker.

Holmes looked around at the puzzled search party, chuckled and said, junior has fallen in with the Verzögerungen. He didn't say what that meant but the way he was laughing the spelunkers knew it could only mean one thing. Junior helps out with Francis' propaganda blog when he's not occupied with contriving other clever schemes to destroy his own reputation and give his job prospects a good kick in the sac.

When we looked again at the what the search thing on the goggle had found when we searched for junior's name and were awestruck to see that Sherlock was right about junior without even using the goggle and went back to the cave to see what Muabladar was cooking for dinner.

Francis the Unicorn Hunter

Ever really want something but not get it because it just doesn't exist? I do that a lot, probably more than I should but these days I can better afford a really active imagination than the cooler creature comforts of life like food for example.

Unicorns puke rainbows

Francis is kinda like that too.

Seems he's decided the next phase of operation 'screw with the useful paradigm' is to figure out some way to stop Donny DA from finishing up his new homework assignment. Donny DA's new homework assignment is a special research thing that has to do with Francis shooting a doorjamb when he was trying to ventilate some guy he'd been sent to check on. I guess they call those welfare checks or something and I never knew the point of a welfare check was to shoot somebody or their house so I'm hoping nobody ever gets worried enough about me to call Francis.

Anyway Donny found out Francis wasn't really clear on what happened when he shot at that guy and I guess that's not good when you're a cop. At least its not good if you are so unclear on what happened that you can't tell the same story twice or something. Or maybe Francis screwed up when somebody like Skip Lingenberry gave him a ride back to reload and told him to tell a different story before heading back to finish off the rest of the doors at that guys place. Skip really hosed Francis though since if you're a cop you have to tell the same story no matter what.

The way it all came to a head is Donny DA knew Francis had made up part of what happened and did some kinda deal where it gets more serious but Francis didn't like that so he wants him to stop. My TV was turned off though so I missed the whole deal on TV8 so I had to watch that video on the long story place. I was jazzed they had a video because all those big words make me dizzy and I have to eat something to make my head stop spinning.

Fortunately the Spelunker's legal department was able to explain what Francis meant when he said if they didn't stop Donny he'd go get a "writ of mandate to prohibit the DA from his intended actions."

They told us that meant that Francis really, really wants the board of soups to stop the DA from completing his homework. But supposedly the soup can't stop Donny DA from doing anything or something like that and so that's Francis' mythical rainbow pukin' unicorn so maybe he really meant something else like when he changed his mind about why he shot that guys doorjamb.

But it gave me an idea.

I figure I can do the same thing and buy a house because when the bank says they want to investigate whether I can afford to pay for a house I'll just say nope, I'm getting a writ of mandate and stopping you, or else.

But first I'm gonna wait and see if it works for Francis.

Tune in next week after Francis rings the bell for round two with the soups to see if they'll give him the money to hunt for his unicorn or whatever it is he really wants a lawyer for.

Musical Interlude, Dude

I'm legion

One, two
One, two, three, five

Off my meds again
Just can't wait to get off my meds again
Make some crap up for my blogger crew
And I can't wait to get off my meds again

Off my meds again
Remember places that I've never been
Seein' things that I imagined
And I can't wait to get off my meds again

Off my meds again
Like a plague of locusts on a bender
Tom and Olga are my barrel bottom friends
Help me find some one to sue again

Off my meds again
I just can't wait to get off my meds again
Make some crap up for my blogger crew
And I can't wait to get off my meds again

Off my meds again
Like a plague of locusts on a bender
Tom and Olga are my barrel bottom friends
Help me find some one to sue again

Off my meds again
Just can't wait to get off my meds again
Then make some crap up for my blogger  crew
And I can't wait to get off my meds again
And I can't wait to get off my meds again

See ya next taunt now y'hear?

Driving, the Easy Way

I've always thought driving seemed more difficult than necessary and sought out ways to simplify the task be doing without some of the more cumbersome accoutrements like a drivers license or insurance.

That made my life easier but I still hadn't quite managed the autopilot type stuff George Jetson has so the actual act of driving still required me to pay some attention so I could flip a bitch before one of those cop checkpoints or make sure to steer between signs and buildings while driving on sidewalks.

I just found out one of the new marauders on the lake has come up with a scheme to put the lazy back in driving, lord strike me down with one of those light bulb deals if I'm wrong about this.

Olga Martin Squeele, best known for milking the public teat and inserting herself into every goddamn thing that comes along, has shown us that you can avoid the more menial tasks associated with driving by letting a cat do it. Kinda like Toonces but with some oversight.

What the Squeele does is straps a cat to the steering wheel so she can tool around talking on the phone and pounding BK stackers down her gullet.

Nobody would ever have found out if she hadn't wandered into the CPD recently and left her chaufeur in feline bondage out in the parking lot where Jeeves, the cat, started honking the horn to attract attention.

Probably just wanted to get the hell away from Olga.

Jeeves saw his opportunity and set about wailing at the top of his lungs and blowing that horn but Olga got done telling CPD how to do their jobs and came back to have him drive her home.

The Indecisive Superhero

Meet Lake county superhero - the waffler, this superhero's super power is the power of vapid indecision. Denizens of the cave knew about this superhero some time ago when we studied fence cowboys but yesterday we received confirmation in spades.

What happened was the shrubber friended a Lake county supervisor, we'll call him Anthony to protect his identity, who was recommended by the Facepage book. Within the hour Anthony unfriended the shrubber in a cruel and callous act of un-friendliness after the shrubber had reached out in an earnest attempt to make new friends.

Thats when we realized Anthony's secret identity. Anthony is the waffler!

The waffler can't decide.

First he deliberated, carefully decided to be the shrubber's friend and clicked on the facepage book wall button making us friends. Then his super power kicked in and he had a change of heart so now the waffler isn't the shrubber's friend anymore.

And that's not all.

Somebody, now I'm not saying it's the waffler, decided to report the shrubber to the facepage book cops and sure enough the shrubber got a nastygram about friending stick in the muds and superheros the shrubber doesn't already know.

Back at the cave we sat around for a while trying to figure out how to make friends if you can't befriend strangers you don't know but all the thinking made us hungry so we popped out some eggos and syrup since we aren't friends with the waffler anymore.

Imagine a world where waffles don't want to be friends.

Then we looked at the wafflers facepage book and saw that the waffler has thousands of friends and got sad because while the waffler clearly isn't all that discriminating about who his friends are he made an example of the shrubber.

Imagine our shame.

I guess the shrubber is a unique and special super villain in the waffler's syrupy, artificial world. Or maybe the waffler is just a douchebag. Then again maybe the waffler's other friends don't like the cave. Whatever the reason its nice to know who the waffler is once and for all.