She Cried “Wolf”…or, er, “Bull.”
If you’ve ever waded into an open pasture, you’re sure to notice that bullshit smells. Its pungent, and its everywhere.
For those of you who never spent time jumping meadow muffins like this lil’ American Indian girl, fear not. You won’t be left out. Chances are, you’ve experienced it enough already.
How?
By reading any plethora of bullcrap, bullplop, bullbutter, or horseshit littering the interwebs today.
It’s one giant pasture out there, be it cow, bull, or horse, but that doesn’t mean I’m not hopping those giant meadow muffins.
Instead, I’m taking in all the pungent odor and releasing my own set of noxious gases, now here at nonpretentious, for your reading (dis)pleasure.
I’ll sniff out some bullshit every week, and I’ll cry about the insanity of it all. From bullshit comes more bullshit; the recipe the same: equal parts bias, fact, and, welp, pure sensational humor.
Jump with me, will you?
File Under: Believe bulls or horses were injured, maimed, or otherwise killed in the writing of this crap? I cry bull…wait, oh, ah…………………shit.
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