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 no mere stool, that wagging buttsand…
“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. If he hadn’t ended up…
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 peaceably protesting, or some equally…
“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 undergo this torture within our…
Some have accused me of stealing from Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” when I penned this instant classic. What they don’t realize is that folk tales of fog-pooping are deeply rooted in goat lore of the 18th century. If anything, Frost stole from US!