I love the smell of decomp in the morning.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Night_(book)

That seems to be a take-off from a passage in this book.

"Where is your GOD now?"

grim stuff.

No church in this witch. She is a pure grifter. Her guide smells of sulfur.

and the treats keep going into the same cup making the smell stronger

The 'shell' with the treat might as well be bright red. that dog can smell the treat just as clearly as we could notice one shell was red. Try this with a rock and see how well this little show-off does.

I could actually smell poop.

That's not petunias I smell.

fears well-founded...

https://www.npr.org/2020/08/11/901219097/how-are-postmaster-general-dejoys-changes-affecting-workers

Question: removing sorting machines ordered by a former c.e.o. of a supply-chain business? anti-tayorism?

https://www.pbs.org/newshour/politics/house-panel-calls-new-postal-chief-to-explain-mail-delays

Note: can't be heard until september?

no sorting machine and no overtime? smells like a boatful of mackeral. or put another way...

https://youtu.be/y1KAtnpVcPE?t=26

I fucking hate pelicans.

Two days after I bought me a brand new '97 Camero Z-28, I was doing the 500 mile break-in and decided to drive up to the San Mateo coast for a nice little blaze up sesh at that beach next to Pescadaro. I park my new baby and trot down to the beach. Three hours and far too many hits later, I stumble back to my car.

And there, on the freshly-waxed hood of my Poor Man's 'vette, is a gigantic green, dinner-plate sized, dead-fish reeking gelatenous birdshit. This thing was fucking epic, too. At first, I was pissed, then I kinda had a sense of admiration 'cause y'all don't see that kinda bird turd every day -- it was really a once-inna-lifetime experience -- but then I went back to being fucking furious when the breeze blew the stench of rotting fish in my direction and I knew I be smelling that shit all the way down Highway 1 and back over 17. Oh yeah, and it was as thick as a pancake, too, and it was bookin' no shit from the poor Mexican fuck with the power washer that I paid $10 to wash it off back in Mountain View.

I know a pelican did it, too. Pelicans got no sense of decency. That goddamn flying monstrosity took one look at my bitchin' Camaro and said, "Yup, you're fucked now Human!" I'm sure that feathered fucker was storing that guano up for a week, just waiting for some oblivious stoner to park his BRAND FUCKING NEW car in that particular spot so it could projectile shit all over the hood.

Goddamn pelicans.

I suspect the gal that doesn't wear a mask or underwear because "things gotta breath" does so because she doesn't like the smell of her own shit breathe and her "you know what" probably smells like..... wellllllll you get what I'm saying.

Also did I use breathe and breath properly???

My favorite line in Boardwalk Empire is when Al Capone tells one of his men, "You smell like a herring's cunt!"

So that's where that fish smell comes from!

Lyrics in case you want to sing along

Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast
Run them, run them, r-run them, run them, fuck the slow mo

Fashion slave, you protestin' to get in a fuckin' look book
Everything I scribble's like The Anarchist Cookbook
(Look good, posing in a centerfold of Crook Book)
Black on black on black with a ski mask, that is my crook look
How you like my stylin', bruh? Ain't nobody stylin', bruh
'Bout to turn this mothafucka up like Riker's Island, bruh
Where my thuggers and my cripples and my blooders and my brothers?
When you niggas gon' unite and kill the police, mothafuckas?
Or take over a jail, give those COs hell
The burnin' of the sulfur, God damn I love the smell
Blankets and pillow torchin', where the fuck the warden?
And when you find him, we don't kill him, we just waterboard him
We killin' 'em for freedom cause they tortured us for boredom
And even if some good ones die, fuck it, the Lord'll sort 'em

We out of order, your honor, you're out of order
This whole court is unimportant, you fuckers are walkin' corpses
I'm a flip wig synonym, livin' within distortion
I'll bite into a cyanide molar before you whores win
I'm a New Yorkian, I fuck for the jump
I wear my Yankee so tilted I actually walk with a hunch
Look at Mikey, I think he likey, we are sinister sons
(Aye, we the type to beat the preacher with a grin and a gun)

Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast
Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them, r-run them
Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast
Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them, r-run them

A wise man once said, ("We all dead, fuck it")
Just spit it disgusting youngin', and hold your nuts while you're gunnin'
I listened, tatted a sentence on my dick last summer
Now I'll never get that phrase off my brain, it's no wonder
I'm here to buy hearts, I got hundreds, honey
The cheaper the parts, the better buy for the money
I'm trained in vagina whisperin', glistenin'
Waitin' for their christenin', I know the neighbors can't help but listen in
A dirty boy who come down on a side of dissonance
I can't even relax without sirens off in the distances
Not shittin' you, little buddy, this fuckin' island's a prison
The only solace I have is the act of conjugal visitin'

My solitary condition's preventin' conjugal visits
Go mane and missin' my misses, they keepin' me from my children
Conditions create a villain, the villain is givin' vision
The vision becomes a vow to seek vengeance on all the vicious
Liars and politicians, profiteers of the prisons
The forehead engravers, enslavers of men and women
Includin' members of clergy that rule on you through religion
(So strippin' kids to the nude and then tell 'em God'll forgive 'em)

Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast
Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them, r-run them
Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast
Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them, r-run them

It's De La on the cut, liftin' 6 on your stitchy crew
I'm miles ahead of you, you can sip my bitches brew
My battle status is burnin' mansions from Dallas to Malibu
Check my résumé, your residence is residue
Call her a skin job and my honey dip'll backflip for you
You playin', God your eye sockets, she gon' rip in two
We sick of bleedin' out a trace, spray a victim, you
Done dyin', Phillip AK Dickin' you
With clips in the bottom, we dippin' from Gotham
Yes eclipsed by the shadows, a dark dance to the coffin
I'm a fellow with melanin, suspect of a felony
Ripped like Rakim Allah, feds is checkin' my melody
Yes aggressively tested we'll bump stretchers and penalties
Dump cases with face and the cop pleas when we seizing a pump
With reason to dump on you global grand dragons
Still pilin' fast, plus Afghani toe taggin'
Now they trackin' me and we bustin' back, see
The only thing that close quicker than our caskets be the factories

Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast
Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them, r-run them
Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast
Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them, r-run them

I've been to this church in the Normandy countryside. It's remote, removed from the beaches, and from all outward appearances unremarkable. It's not until you walk in and realize how small it is inside, unlike the grandiosity of Notre Dame in Paris or Cathédrale Notre Dame in Reims: it's narrow and confined. How so many wounded soldiers fit in the little space is beyond me. I can't imagine the stone floor slicked with blood, the moans of pain, the smells of wounds. Even the pews seem too narrow to accommodate a human body laid lengthwise.

Even with all that said, if you stand inside that little church it's impossible not to feel the touch of history. Of everything I saw in Normandy, nothing made a bigger impression on my than the little church in Angoville-au-Plain.