Dave had been bemoaning some aspects of mower technology, in a post entitled
Zen and the Art of Mower Repair
The discussion led to Donkeys, by a roundabout route:-
steve said... Anonymous said...
Mower that runs on grass.
Dave Mows Grass said...
Wow! Thanks, everybody, for stopping by! I'm getting some great ideas here. Maybe Soubriquet Labs can help me design a mower with counter-rotating blades that will be immune to retreating blade stall and dissymetry of lift problems. If Steve and Rod help me build the grassoline engine for it, I'll have the world's first perpetual mowtion machine. Gewels can teach me how to love it and care for it. I've never been good at that stuff.
It is powered by two donkeys, or burros, if you prefer..., in a treadmill above the mower-deck, their forward motion in the treadmill cage powers a pair of contra-rotating blades with anti-stall tip fins, and vortex-spilling features. A proportion of the mown grass product is diverted from the main discharge chute into a vent just forward of the donkeys. They can eat grass, but the heavier stream is always a bit forward of their reach, and, being greedy, they attempt to move forward into the heavier grass stream, thus powering the mower and the grass stream further forward.
the resultant processed-by-donkey grass after-product is fed into a smaller blade assembly, and evenly spread in the cut-zone, thus fertilising the treated areas, and ensuring optimum greenery.
If the current proving trials go well, Soublabs expects to become the world's foremost supplier of lawn turf, golf greens, and tennis courts. A twenty-donkeypower rig is under construction in our secret facility mmf!bklff! I can say no more. They gag even me....#
carrots... the donks love carrots....
Don Keyote said...
........ NEWS FLASH.......
ADP(associated donkey press)
The world renowned and esteemed, Dr. Don Keyote, president and founder of DHRT (donkeys have rights, too!), has issued a press release concerning the inhumane treatment of the Equus asinus a.k.a. the domestic donkey, recently discovered at Soublab in the far reaches of Argentina's Patagonia region:
"We of the DHRT heretofore denounce the inhumane treatment of Equus asinus in Soublab's lab testing of mower prototypes.
Furthermore, we assert that our fellow members of DHRT have been blindfolded, kidnapped and taken from their families from all over the world to be brutally stuffed into wire cages at Soublab, where they are forced to work as slaves with little to nothing to eat but small bits of grass, no water and no time off for good behaviour.
Soublabs is violating many international Equus asinus laws including fair use and labour of donkeys; the donkey bill of rights; and the Hague Convention's special section concerning the DHRT (see below referenced.)
We publicly insist that Soublab cease and desist such inhumane and cruel treatment at once and release all donkeys on site to their former locations. If not, be rest assured, even as I speak, sanctions, embargoes, international fines are being discussed and drawn up by the DHRT conferring with and endorsed by The Hague Convention: Section 55: Codes R, B A and Z; line items: 23, 55, 89,395,756,3739,5728,4497873 and so forth.
A UDF (united donkey federation) special task force is on alert to raid Soublabs at a secret, unspecified time in order to rescue our comrades with orders to TAKE NO PRISONERS.
Be rest assured, Sir Soubriquet, we intend to KICK ASS !!"
Dr. Don Keyote, Ph.D spec. Eq.as.
president and founder of DHRT
Reply from Soublabs founder, the eponymous Soubriquet:-
Doctor Don Keyote's recent outburst is, of course not at all unexpected, knowing the knee-jerk nature of the DHRT mafiosi.
Doctor Don.... Who in fact, our information associates have clearly proved to be not so much a Don, as a Donatella.
Yes, Don Keyote wears pointy heeled shoes, and, I'm informed, lacy bras.
Let us, however, concentrate not so much on the good Doc's personal dissimilations, but the downright distortions in the press release.
Soublabs is a very good employer. In fact prospects with Soublabs Mower Development Program come with full veterinary benefits, foalcare, nutricious benefits in terms of ample fresh-cut grass, carrots after every working shift, and an educational program envied by most equine institutes.
One of our alumni co-starred in Shrek, after taking the drama course.
Donkeys on the mower are free to read, in heads up mode, as unlike many of the world's donkeys, they have no worries at all about where the next meal is coming from. Their health is excellent, good food and every day exercise.... Humans pay a lot of money to trot on a treadmill, whereas our donkeys... Get Paid to Do It!
Soublabs is an equal opportunities employer, and currently has Zebra, Mules, Ponies, Gnus, and, i think.... oh yes. One pig, upon the books.
Far from being kidnapped and blindfolded, donkeys and asses of all sorts queue (am.=stand in line) at our gates, hoping for a vacancy.
Don Keyote's threats are nothing short of asinine.
Anonymous from the desk of Dr. Don Keyote... said...
1234 Golden Carrot Lane
Washingdon Key, USA 10001
MEMO FROM THE DESK OF DON KEYOTE, Ph.D eq.sp.
It does our organization and the public eye of the world no good to respond point by point to the obvious and libelous attempt of Soublab’s Spin Doctors to manipulate public opinion.
Fact 1: DHRT with the permission of The Hague Convention and under authorization of The Donkey Federation has been secretly conducting an ‘insiders’ investigation for well over 9 months – forwarding Soublab documents, emails, blue prints; video-taping the brutal and inhumane treatment of our fellow donkeys; and recording private conversations between Sir Soubriquet himself with his top secret staff of lab monkeys.
Fact 2: Indeed, Sir Soubriquet – the pig you mentioned? Yes, one of ours .... the Zebra (a cleverly painted donkey spy); as well as a number of others who still remain on the premises of your facilities.
Fact 3: It is the opinion of the International Committee of Crimes Against Donkeys that Soublab is actually a front for the terrorist group known as: The Donkey Subjugation Organization, (DSO), whose mission statement patently clarifies its objective: to enslave all donkeys of the world.
Fact 4: Contrary to Sir Soubriquet’s assertions that his ‘facility’ provides benefits to its ‘voluntary’ workers, we have actual footage of his Mengeleian breeding program, disguised under the despicable name: Foalcare. Yes, ladies, gentlemen, donkeys and friends of the world: the DSO is attempting to breed a super-force of super-strength donkeys implanted with Soublab computer chips who will become the nucleus of the DSO’s controlled ass forces.
Fact 5: Soublab’s Chief of Foalcare: Dr. Chimp Pan-Z, has undertaken horrific and frankensteinian measures - cross- breeding donkeys to all manner of other species under conditions of torture, deprivation and disregard for the sanctity of donkey life. The details of which are too graphic to share with the world. Let us just say: our spy pig and 2 of our moles escaped JUST IN TIME !! We mourn the loss of our brave and courageous field comrades...
Fact 6: This Patagonian Operation of the DSO is nothing less than the foothold of a new
WORLD WIDE GENOCIDE of epic proportions, aimed at the Equus asinus population. The International Act Against Terrorism of Donkeys has assured our organization aid at ALL COSTS to stop this dangerous, evil threat to our Equus asinus population.
Sir Soubriquet, I say, Stop!! while you are a donkey’s nose ahead. You have already made an ass of yourself. Soon, you and your organization will be annihilated – The Golden Carrot Bill introduced to Congrass has been passed and signed by President George W. Bushass to deploy troops to Patagonia. Your time is short, Soubriquet. (and so are your pants – find a better tailor for donkey’s sake!)
(ps. Did you really think you’d get away with this asinine plot of yours ???)
initialed by M.U.L.
for Dr.Don Keyote
Senhor Soubriquet, it is i, Pedro. It is very sorry that I am for the nature of my going, and now it is I who beg your forgiveness and your help. Yes, that I know, that you were present when I was foaled, and you watched me as I first struggled to stand on my new-minted legs. I know for this, because my mama told me, and that you were concerned for her and for me, and that you gave me a warm blanket on that first winter night, O senhor, i remember my early days with the foals, in foal school, i remember the yearling craziness, the galloping, I remember the first day on the mowers, sancho braying at us, unco-ordinated youths, i remember the first feelings , of being part of a team, of being synchronised, I remember the sweet grass, I remember the carrots you handed out, our first pay! Then the Zebra came. He spoke in a funny accent. He told us of Marx, of Trotterski, he told us we were slaves, we were dupes for "the man", he told us you were bad, you were using us.... He told us of the Pig, the pig who could for a fee, arrange 'escape' from soublabs. But, i asked, why do we need escape. we can jump the fence, and canter away at any time. You need escape because you are not free donkeys, you belong to 'the man'. So, senhor, forgive me. I listened to them. I heard their stories and believed them, I spoke badly of you, and encouraged the other young ones to revolt. We kicked and smashed the mower deck. my mama nipped me, she told me I should be ashamed. But i was wild. I was learning to be a 'freedom fighter'. My papa brayed at me. He told me not to be a long-eared fool, that the grass was no greener on the other side of the fence, that going to the land of gringos was no easy thing, that if he found I was behind the sabotage, he'd give me a kick to remember.
But i was young and an ass. I believed their stories, about the beatings, about the experiments... Though nobody we knew actually had themselves been beaten, nor experimented upon. Nor had anybody they knew. and nobody disappeared without explanation ever. But hey. We all knew someone who said it had happened to a friend of a friend's cousin's neighbour... And the pig said it was true. And the zebra, aloof as he always was, said "Of course you have no personal knowleedge, these capitaleeestes, they know how to hide their tracks, they rule by fear." So, one night, we all paid the pig all our saved carrots -and the sugarlumps. And we broke into the lab. smashed the drive-gears, bit through the harnesses, shat on the floor, though mama would have wept had she seen me, acting the tough donk in this tough guy gang. And Sarah. My Sarah, she who I'd been too shy ever to speak to, on the green-mower team, she called to me, what are you doing! what is happening, and I cried out it is revolution, it is my destiny, and I am going with the liberators, with Don Keyote's band of revolutioneers to norte-america, where I would gallop free with the wild horses of the mountains. And Senhor Soubriquet, she cried, and said I was a fool. and that hurt most of all, but I left, we went north, moving by night, hiding and sleeping up by day. Eventually we crossed the border into Texas. No donkey slavery in the u.s, zebra had said, but to pay our passage we must work, But i paid the pig! "No" said the Zebra, wearing dark glasses, "you paid for the escape, but for the passage, for the crossings of many borders, for the guide, you owe us." Us? I questioned.
"Dr Don Keyote's DHRT, inc,
1234 Golden Carrot Lane
Washingdon Key, USA 10001
A subsidiary company of industries."
And as we had no money, nor carrots with which to pay, then we would have to pay with our labour and our knowledge.
The Black Helicopters came. Men in uniforms. The DHRT. "Donkey Halibut-urton Research Troop", not "Donkeys-Have-Rights-Too as that turncoat zebra said.
We were loaded up, interrogated, we must tell all we know of Soublabs mower designs, Conchita, she said she knew nothing, and even if she had, she would not tell, so they pushed her out, at a thousand feet. To encourage the others, they said...
We talked then, alright. I'm sorry, I told them of the drive spigots, the eccentric orbiting spoffle-pins, everything I knew. And still they beat me.
I'll say no more of the next few months, at Halibut-Urton. It was horrible.
One night, the stable-trusty who was the company's nark, fell asleep after eating his meal, we had stuffed it with poppies.
The cat leapt up and worked the door latch, pointed us west, we burst out and fled, some, too weak, could not jump the electric wire fence, oh horror!
into the foothills on the third day, we split up, I carried on, toward the mountains of.. well, Montana, fording rivers, climbing steep rocky passes, avoiding humans, occasionally hearing the beat of the Black Helicopters, searching..
And the rifle shots.
My goal? to live, and to run with the wild horses, to have my birthright as Zebra told me, to be part of the free equine brother and sisterhood. To fall in love with a pretty filly, to forget the soft voice of Sarah, who I, the revolutionary, had left behind, in Patagonia. And, and... They laughed at me. My hoarse voice... My spiky hair, my size. They told me, push off, kid. Came the round up time, I'd been living solitary and hungry, I wanted to be caught. Those cowboys laughed at me. The ranchers didn't want me. I kept breaking into barns, standing into a stall in the morning, as if I belonged there. They threw me out. They took me in a truck, miles away, and threw me out. I kept trying. Nobody wanted me. Just a donkey. Cold nights, winter came, i would cry, thinking of my life in the team, on the pampas.. mowing. In the snow, i made my way down to a barn, I was starving, close to exhaustion, and there was ice on the water trough. I collapsed. Oh senhor Soubriquet, never was I so unhappy. A dog found me, began barking. then the mules came, one, she was kind, she lay down beside me and warmed me. Then a man... "It's that pesky donkey again," he said, "and he's damn near dead!".. They nursed me, fed me, and the mules, they were kind, but the man, he had no place for me in the springtime, he sold me on, to a travelling show.. We worked our way down to El Paso, me pulling a cripplingly heavy wagon, a big clown whipped me to make me jump and sit and stand on my hind legs at his command. One night, during the show, he decided to taser the donkey, oh yes. The following night, before that part I bit him. They dragged me out, beat me with sticks, said they would "jes put a bullet thru the dang burro's head." But instead, they sold me to a meskian, i think they called him. I pulled a plough in stony ground. I was beaten every time I stumbled. I bit him too. Now I am here in Juarez. I work in a different kind of show. I am ashamed. I don't even know the Senhoritas, i, ah, perform with. They are drugged, as am I. It is shameful. And I once was a free donkey of Patagonia, I worked the blue team mower in Soublabs. Oh the shame, tell not my mama, oh please, and Soubriquet, you who were never unkind, you who gave me carrots. you who I betrayed.
Oh please, Senhor, come for me, free me, take me home, I beg you.
*****TOP SECRET MEMO********
Dr. Donna Key Buttonpusher
1234 Golden Carrot Lane
Washingdon Key, USA 10001
DHRT "Donkey Halibut-urton Research Troop"
Black Hawk Troops - Special Forces Commander Sistah Pointed Sugar Lumps:
GET THAT ASS OF A TRAITOR - NOW!!!
Through a number of intermediaries on our payroll (including but not limited to Sara Charmed in Patagonia); Lady Zebraski; some small squeaky mouse; A Buxom Lady who always sings last in a Hispanic circus; and finally from Mathilde Mulehausen; Betty LaBottom; and Red Mulely - we have learned that the leader of the ASS break-out at Haibut -urton's Dark Lady Research Facilities has penned a rather long, maudlin, and surprisingly convincing account of his time at Halibut-urton's Secret Sex Change Labs and his journeys back to Patagonia and Soublabs' Inc.
GET THAT #%@** story OFF THE INTERNET NOW !! A free-world news publication, Grit in the Gears has picked up this Patagonian Ass of a Donkey's pathetic tail of lies, and printed it FOR ALL THE WORLD TO READ!!
I don't care HOW YOU DO IT. Bring in our special task team: The pointy-heeled Troop 74-B - our best trained only. Call up the Lacey Bra Battalion and their chesty sisters in Powder Pink Velvet Cones.
DO WHAT IT TAKES
Seduce those asses. Don't let them know what hit them. Slip aphrodisiacs into their water supply. Make those donkeys talk! Word tells us that this Asine Pensman is currently trekking his way through Peru (after a tourist stop a Machu Picchu for photo ops). He must be stopped at all costs and taken back to our secret sex change lab. We'll have him singing soprano in no time!
As for Sir Soubriquet - SEDUCE, BEGUILE, LURE, BAIT, TEMPT him into a Sistahood Sandwich ... ladies, you know who you are ...
make sure your bras are as sheer as possible, your spiky heels, as tall and sleek as your legs, and your glossy manes of hair soft and sweet smelling, your buttocks firm for the pinching!!
For we know Sir Soubriquet is a man of rare senses and quite a slippery character. LADIES, do not be led astray by his promises of pleasure!! I want him brought back ALIVE, and comatose from his activities, ladies. This calls for a Super Sandwich Intervention. Fulfill all his fantasies. Don't let him think. Divert his attentions as you load him onto our smooth, cool sheeted bedroom plane - KEEP HIM BUSY!
I want him brought back to ME. Yes, ohhhhhhh yesssss....... I have something quite special in mind for Sir Soubriquet in my red padded chambers ......!!
GO LADIES GO!!! LONG LIVE THE SISTAHOOD OF THE POINTY HEELS
parts of this memo are rated R for Sexual Content and Foal Language - not for young eyes and are copyrighted. may not be used without permission of author and a fair amount of sugar lumps in her tea.
Assam of course.