We love nature, but we know the limits

(COLUMNIST’S WARNING: Today’s commentary contains shocking phrases, like: “The mice had their tails cut off and were smothered in Vaseline.” Therefore, the following should NOT be read by anyone with high moral fiber, door-to-door evangelists or elderly people with weak hearts who will call my editor and scream: “He’s not funny and you should fire that jerk.”)

Well, I’ll be a monkey’s mistress!

The West Side is reeling from yet another sex-with-animals scandal.

You may recall that a depraved fellow expired in 2005 after engaging in unholy relations with a horse at a bestiality farm near Enumclaw. (My parody song on the subject is still available for your enjoyment at www.spokesman.com.)

And now police have busted Douglas Spink, a former cocaine smuggler, for allegedly operating a bestiality farm in Whatcom County near the Canadian border.

Boy, howdy. I just about fell off my couch after opening my Sunday newspaper and reading the part in the story that said …

“Also taken into custody was a 51-year-old tourist from Great Britain who is accused of having sex with three dogs.”

This carnal canine enthusiast wasn’t named in the story, however. So at this time I have absolutely no way of knowing which member of the royal family it may or may not be.

By the way, how old is Prince Charles?

Anyway, far be it from me to keep rehashing actual salacious news details for my evil humor purposes.

(Example: the aforementioned petroleum jelly-glazed tailless rodents.)

Instead, I want to focus on a matter of serious geographic importance.

My fellow Eastern Washingtonians, we have long suffered from an inferiority complex because of the so-called cultural superiority of the West Side.

The powers in Olympia routinely ignore us.

Even our own children can’t wait until they can get out of school and move away to Seattle.

Well, mine did, anyway.

Granted our puny Clocktower can’t compare to the lure of the Space Needle.

Our dried-up Scablands are no match for the lush majesty of the rain forest.

We’ve got the Spokane River.

They’ve got the bloody Pacific Ocean!

So OK, maybe we are just a bunch of unsophisticated clod kickers.

But let me tell you West Side latte-swillers something: at least we’re not confused about the true meaning of animal husbandry.

We grow real crops on our farms. They’re not destination resorts for some of the planet’s sickest puppies.

I don’t know about you, but I will never again suffer from East Side inadequacy again.

Look, I don’t want to crow.

But we Eastern Washingtonians love our animals.

We don’t “love” our animals.