Round-Up: All Your Goats Are Belong To Us

Illustration for article titled Round-Up: All Your Goats Are Belong To Us

Hi everyone,

I'm the Lonely Goatherd. People wonder how I got that name. Well, I tell 'em, I herd goats, and I'm lonely. Wasn't always, though. My goats were my friends. I loved their fabulous furry freaknesses, and they loved me (but not like that, you understand). Now, except for these two, my goats are gone. And I KNOW WHO IS TO BLAME. Oh yes indeed. Sony. They're a bunch of dirty goat wrestlers. They come onto my land, they steal my goats, and then they sacrifice the poor creatures at one of their European launch parties.


Maybe if I had a Google phone that they're rumoured to be coming up with, I could use their maps application and track my furry friends so they don't become goat p t for people like Phil Harrison and his friends. Or perhaps I should I have used a brain controller to change their mind.


Find out what else gets my goat after the jump...

And if I had an iPhone, with its nice camera, I could hide outside Goat Towers and take a picture of the dirty perpatrators of this heinous crime - yes Phil, I'm talking to YOU - and send it to the goat police. Then they wouldn't find it so funny, I can betcha.

I'm also going to petition that Negroponte dude and tell him he should adapt that OLPC idea of his for goats. One Laptop Per Goat might mean that Gert Goat and her three sisters could email me for help should the rustlers get too close.


Anyway, These two little babies of mine are going to stay safe. I'm thinking of hiding them up on the third floor of the brand new Apple building in NY. Only thing is it's in the Meatpacking district, which makes me a bit nervous. Well, if things gets a little bit goatse there, I can always call that nice Steve guy. I heard he's good at finding things and that's his territory after all.


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A door-to-door salesman has had a really rough day and decided to try one more house before heading home. He knocks on the door, determined to make a sale. A small named Billy boy opens the door, and the salesman starts in with his sales pitch. The boy stood there speechless, and the salesman, seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere, asked the boy where his mother was. The boy didn't say a word and just pointed upstairs. The salesman goes up the stairs, opens the bedroom door and finds the boy's mother in bed with a goat!! Completely flabbergasted, the salesman slams the door shut and flies down the stairs. He grabs the little boy by the shoulders and yells, "Do you know what's in bed with your mother? Do you know what they're doing? Doesn't this bother you?" To which the little boy responded, "Na-a-a-a-a-a-a. I'm just a kid"