Happy Anniversary, Fartbox

It almost slipped by again this year.  I guess Russell Jenkins knew, though.  How do I know?  Well, he helped himself to a celebratory platter of poutine (maybe he was trying to do me a favor) while I wasn’t looking yesterday.  When I walked back into the room and caught him, he just stood there, caught, wagging his tail and licking his chops.  He was so pleased with himself, what could I do?  I mean, if I were a little guy with crooked legs, jacked up teeth and one eyeball who lived with a giant who, every once in a while threw a rope around my neck, dragged me around the neighborhood, and fed me dry dog food, if I got the chance to eat the giant’s delicious hot gravy covered potatoes that ALSO HAD CHEESE ON THEM, I would full on do it!  Good on you, Russell Jenkins.  I love you like the dickens.

The picture is a repeat, but the sentiment stands, so what could I do?
The picture is a repeat, but the sentiment stands, so what could I do?
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