Winter, as every normal person knows, is hell on earth, Satan's own season. As the temperature drops, the days shorten, and the snow begins to fall, winter's own demons return to the Midwest from the frozen north, whence they migrate in warmer seasons.
These hulking, shaggy, primitive hominids lurk deep in the forests of Palmerwood's vast hunting-grounds and emerge during the wintertime to lay siege to Palmerwood and its environs. Massive, forbidding, malodorous, and irritating, these benighted primates, these mockeries of mankind, this hideously ill-evolved branch off our own evolutionary family tree, these distant, demonic relatives of ours will stalk the mansion like wolves, testing its defenses, always remaining just out of range of our hunting-rifles with the cunning of the wild beast and near-human intelligence.
Their presence terrifies the stock and peasants, raising fear to a fever pitch, until they burst in, bringing all the fury of hell with him. Having breached the manor's defenses, they unleash a brand of havoc at which the weak cry out in terror and even the strongest man laments.
They drink all the good Scotch, they eat you out of house and home, they smoke all your cigars, they make rude and belittling comments about your taste in home furnishings, they take over the stereo and play "Get Down Tonight" by KC and the Sunshine Band over and over and over, they tell inappropriate jokes in front of your children, and they stay WAAAAAAY too late.
Here's a visual record of one occasion where they burst through our defenses and comported themselves rudely. Notice how they're eating all the quail-egg canapes and Cornish game hens, and how they're defacing the portraits of my ancestors.
I hate them damn yetis.
Like all preternaturally tacky beings, they love selfies and duck-faces. Also, they're big fans of Christmas, and, horrifyingly, they drag you into the picture when you clearly have no desire to have your picture taken.
I once posted a note to Facebook for the Minions' edification explaining the difference between yetis and sasquatches.
FROM JP'S FIELD GUIDE: "YETIS v. SASQUATCHES (BIGFOOTS ((FEET)) )."
Frens and minions! Greetings from the high-ceilinged, oak-paneled, book-lined study of my luxurious, 40-bedroom, historic ancestral country estate of Palmerwood, located in the rolling hills of suburban St. Louis! I hope you're well.
Well, damn the luck, fall is upon us again, and, as always, fall brings with it some rather unusual cold-weather flora and fauna. Many of you may have questions about the strange beasts you might see shambling across your own expansive lawns and through your own wooded glades, and occasionally attacking your manor-house. I thought I'd take a few quick moments to share some insights and information about two of the most common.
I was recently asked if there was any difference between yetis and Bigfoots/feet/feets (hell, let's just call them Sasquatches). It's a fair question, and one which deserves an answer.
There are some similarities. Both of them are large, hairy Australopithecene hominid primates. They are in fact closely related. DNA analyses are, at present, inconclusive, but indicate that they are members of the same species--we can think of them as subspecies, and can safely refer to them in layman's terms as cousins.
But there are differences--mostly cultural.
Your average sasquatch is a laid-back, down-to-earth, likable fella who wears flannel shirts, jeans, and hiking boots (or would, if he wore clothes. They don't). He enjoys grilling out, fishing, and drinking a beer (Sam Adams or Blue Moon) from time to time. He's also not above taking a hit or two off a joint, if someone has one. It's certainly not a habit with him, but he's a mellow chap. He's a genuinely good guy--affable, always laughs at your jokes, takes kidding well, and doesn't take himself too seriously. He's a classic rock guy, and generally keeps an acoustic guitar in his pickup--but he never takes it out and starts playing unless he's asked to. He's not a habitual smoker, but if he does occasionally bum a cigarette, he always brings you a full pack the next time he sees you. He likes the woods, and although he doesn't mind being alone, he's always glad to go fishing with you, and always has an extra rod just in case you don't have one.
The yeti, on the other hand, is your typical, standard, textbook nouveau-riche parvenu. He's a social climber, pretentious as hell, and obnoxious as the dickens. He drinks Courvoisier and Cointreau, not because he enjoys them, but because he thinks they're the "classy" beverages to drink. He has absolutely no taste, no sense of propriety, and no manners. He wears expensive, loudly-patterned sport coats, diamond Rolexes, and Bruno Maglis. He's tacky.
One of the best ways to differentiate between them is by judging your own reaction to their assaults on your home. The Sasquatch never besieges your home empty-handed. You're genuinely glad to see him. He never overstays his welcome. If, when he leaves, you say, "Hey, you need to to come back again soon" and you mean it, he's most likely a Sasquatch.
The yeti, on the other hand, never brings anything. If, when he finally leaves, you say, "We should get together again soon" but you have absolutely no intention of doing so, he's most likely a yeti.
Also, yetis have white fur and Sasquatches have a rich, chocolaty-brown, tweedy hue.
Well, that's all for this edition of "From JP's Field Guide." I hope it's been both illuminating and helpful. Until next time, and may God your gold refine, guide your steps, and bless thee and all who sail in thee! Excelsior, minions!
About the only thing I can say in their defense is that yetis are, occasionally, good art critics. Like me, they hate Bitstrips with a passion.
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