Goat Quixote

Hi, my name is Molino, but you can call me Mo. Welcome to my life and times. I don’t know why mom gave me that weird name — something about windmills. Sidney and the others pick on me about this, as well as my overbite, mangy coat and weird eyes (Dylan once told me the … Read more

Let me not to the breeding of true goatsadmit false excrement.Poop is not poop that alters when it constipation finds.Or bends with the mucker to remove.No, it is an ever-tumbling rain of pelletsThat stick to hooves and shan’t be shaken. It is the dung on every wand’ring bark,Whose worth’s unknown, although its grams be taken.Poop’s … Read more

“Goats Head Soup.” The very thought makes my fur stand on end. The Rolling Stones turned out four killer LPs in a row, with titles that slayed (figuratively). And then they released an almost-killer LP with a title that slayed (literally). You know, Mick Jagger was a smart guy….London School of Economics and all that. … Read more

 You know I’m loath to brag, but I have to let you know that the U.S. Postal Service has chosen ME as the model for their special Goat Heritage Month stamp! Now, get out there and buy some friggin’ stamps and send a card to your mom — even if she’s in the hoosegow for … Read more

“Don’t take your horns to town.” Mom always told me that (she loved that good human, Johnny Cash). You know, almost all goats – both billies and nannys – are born with horns. Some of our human rulers remove our beautiful crowns by burning them off with a hot iron. It’s called disbudding, and we … Read more