This reminds me of the tail end of a long hike in the desert in Baja. My pal and I are coming out of the scrub and we start seeing signs of civilization -- dessicated goat turds, dessicated goat bodies in the trees, the odd 1940s-vintage blue glass electric line insulator -- and then these (incongruously well-hydrated) pit bulls come running up to us all happy to see us. A dessicated farmer eventually follows, and tells us that the dogs' names are Paco and Osama bin Laden. "Saddam Hussein is in the house," he tells us.
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This reminds me of the tail end of a long hike in the desert in Baja. My pal and I are coming out of the scrub and we start seeing signs of civilization -- dessicated goat turds, dessicated goat bodies in the trees, the odd 1940s-vintage blue glass electric line insulator -- and then these (incongruously well-hydrated) pit bulls come running up to us all happy to see us. A dessicated farmer eventually follows, and tells us that the dogs' names are Paco and Osama bin Laden. "Saddam Hussein is in the house," he tells us.
"Paco"?
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