Awright, already!

If you cricketophiles think these little sons-of-bitches are so goddam
appealing, why don't you come clean out my basement and take them (the
crickets, not my valuable treasures) the hell off to your comfy little
grottoes.  And I'll sweeten the deal, too- a free masonite cow with every 10
lbs. of crickets removed.   If that's not enough, I'll volunteer to give you
all the crickets in my neighbors' basement, which I think is 1850's.

 I was talking with a contractor today who said he'd been in an 1820's house
where these bastard crickets were 4" or 5" long, and their hopping all over
the place scared the hell out of him.  This guy's no candy-assed cab-hopping
preservationist like us-- he's a gun owner with a truck and a motorcycle!

Any more cat barf stories out there for our edification?  The kids want me to
read to them sometimes....

Ralph