Mars Day 3: Captains Log

I know, Star Trek, not only is it plagerism…but it shows my age.

It is snowing here on Mars. It snowed about 3 feet overnight. So I built a rudimentary igloo. I wish I were in Cleveland…I hear they only got a foot of snow. At least I don’t have to drive in this crap.

You’re probably wondering…if there is three feet of snow, and you’re stuck in your igloo, what are you eating and drinking? Right?

Well I'll have you know that I've made a wonderful discovery. Just below the surface of the Martian clay there are, of all things, potatoes. Root vegetables! Who would have thought? I’m thinking I’m not the first person to land on this planet. Furthermore, I’m not the first Irishman to land on this planet! I mean who else would have planted potatoes.

And also, I discovered that the clay, after drying out, will burn…just like a cow patty. My biggest problems are solved. Sure, I’ll have heat, which is somewhat important. Oh, yes, and of course I can burn the clay and melt snow for water, and of course this means I’m in Irish heaven because I can cook my potatoes and eat them too, but that means mere survival; I’m talking about hard liquor here! Vodka! Oh sure, beer and whiskey would be better, but I’m Irish, I’d distill my own piss and drink it if I thought it had alcohol in it!

Speaking of steamed piss…I heard my grandfather say this about someone and I’ve always wanted to hate someone badly enough to say it to them: “I wouldn’t give them the steam off my piss!” I mean somebody must have pooped on their stoop for him to say such a thing!

And speaking of drinking piss, I hear that people lost in the desert are sometimes forced to drink their own piss…and like it. Sounds a bit gross, I know, but I’m thinking some pungent ammonia smelling yellow liquid concoction could look mighty tasty when you consider the alternative.

I’ll not get into a pissing contest over this…you know I’m right! And if you’ve got an argument against me, I’m sure it’s a piss-poor one. Look here, you’re starting to piss me off! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have a pot to piss in! Piss off now!

Sorry about that…I was talking to Quinn…my pet rock, remember?

Well if you have read my blog for more than a day, you’re probably coming to the conclusion that what I’m writing is nothing more than banal malarkey. And if you’ve come to this conclusion…you’d be right. But remember this…I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing it for me. I started off talking to myself after all.

And speaking of reading and writing...check out my book "Whiskey Me Away". Just click on the little "Duffy Writer" icon on this page and scroll down. Some of you might like it. It's got dirty words and a bit of nookie. If you like it, you might hit the little star at the top of the page, and if you don't like it, you can go piss yourself!

Well, gotta go now…need to find a place to piss…preferably somewhere a good ways away from my potatoes.