Deer and people who act like them

This has not been a good weekend as far as dealing with stupid people. Any time you want a confirmation that the best, most-capable people are not the ones who are reproducing, come on up to Frederick and have a dinner at the Golden Corral. I don't know what it is, but that place always displays a truly appalling collection of mouth-breathing, server-colliding, dumb-question-asking, screaming-brat-carrying humanoids the likes of which the local tourism board would like to hide, probably.

I eat there because it's cheap and I can load up on protein. I try to avoid the crotch-rockets and the clueless adults as best I can.

Apples have arrived just as the berries are petering out because of the heat. My lying-bastard tree produced several pounds of good-looking apples and many more pounds of awful-looking apples. Rose, from across the street, comes over and puts them out for the deer. I don't mention to her that I'd like the deer to leave the planet as soon as possible, not hang around my place, but she's old and it makes her happy to see them out there.

I refer to it as the "lying-bastard" tree because it was clearly tagged as a McIntosh at the nursery, and one year later it produced exactly one perfect Golden Delicious.

I fucking hate Delicious apples. I much prefer Macs and Granny Smiths. Apples that argue with you instead of trying to placate you with crumbly inoffensive sweetness.

Anyway, that tree has produced more apples this year. The Granny Smith will produce a bunch this fall. The REAL McIntosh I planted three years ago will hopefully produce one apple in September. Unless the deer eat it.