Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Our mum, she's so house-proud

Our good friend (and champion blogger) Mrs. Hillbilly Mom recently wrote about her woes of paying the taxman. Apparently she's not renting enough, or something. Now, I am anything, if not helpful, so I thought I'd publicly offer Mrs. HM some free advice... like "news you can use," or something:

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom can go live in a cave.

I mean that in the nicest sense, of course. These folks out in Festus built their home in a cave, so why not Mrs. Hillbilly Mom? At one point the intrepid cave-dwellers were trying to sell the home on eBay, because apparently they were targeted by a predatory lender, or sabre-toothed tiger, or something. The story is unclear on the precise details, but I suspect mastodons may also be involved somehow.

You be the judge:

Fine country livin'

Anyway, I bet that tucked away in the Spendulus bill, a clever accountant can find an earmark or two for cave-folk. Hell, they've got money for Neanderthals like AmTrack and Chrysler, why not money for people living like actual Neanderthals?

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom could build her cave home a good sight cheaper than the visionaries in Festus, what with already employing an experienced home MiniMansion builder. This thing was built out of dozens of sliding glass doors and spare plywood, and Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has told us all about the plethora of unused auto glass (and autos) she has lying about. I'm sure there are plenty of spare power tools to be found in Hillmomba, lying out in the road, even! She even has the land... once the corpses are cleared out of her sinkholes, that is. It sounds practically shovel-ready, don't you think?

Once the "Spelunker's Biltmore" is built, I've also thought of a foolproof way to see it increase in value. Aside from their current projects of raising chickens and "free" potbellied pigs, naturally. All Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has to do is give the Pony a big box of crayons and tell him to go crazy on the walls. It'll be like Lascaux, only better, because it won't smell like moldy old French dudes, or stinky cheese... theoretically, at least.

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Blogger Hillbilly Mom said...

First of all, I used to drive by that cave house cave twice a day in my 'tween life. That is, the life I had after I quit teaching the first time, and before my illustrious return. It was not a house then. It was a tire store or some such thing.

Secondly, if you remember correctly, and I'm sure you do, with your steel-trap mind, the room I decorated in The Big Blogger House was a CAVE, by cracky, complete with a Hellhole for warmth. Not that my heart needs warming or anything.

Third in line, the mastodon is across town and a bit further north. Did you know the first guy who discovered the bones thought he had found a sea creature, and put them together wrong, and called it The Missouri Leviathan? I'm sure you know that. You are good with prehistoric trivia.

Fourthingly, you are dead-on about us Hillbilly's cheap building habits. We have a plethora of found treasure lying about. FYI, HH is at this moment building himself a new BARn down by the creek, next to his MiniMansion. I haven't seen it yet.

Fiverthing, the dead chickens should have gone down the sinkhole instead of on top of a brush pile, because just this afternoon, there were more remnants of skin and feathers beside the dog-lying area on the porch.

Six-O, The Pony is fond of cave drawings, but prefers the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans. I don't know if it's because they smell better than Frenchmen.

I'll take the high road here and pretend that you linked the CAVE, and not The Great and Terrible Hillbilly Mom to that 'weird stuff' label. ;)

Hope you didn't strain yourself posting again so soon!

8:04 PM, March 11, 2009  
Blogger Redneck Diva said...

I was gonna say....that looks suspiciously like the Big Blogger my mind, anyway.

4:53 PM, July 06, 2009  

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