I just had to share this picture of Esther, one of my favorites, showing her true fiendish nature:

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esther is one of the best.

At some point we'll have to tack Esther up on a cross and crucify her because as the patroness saint of the Nutria, she's not supposed to be alive. Have you ever heard of a living saint? Kinda sucks to be a saint, I think, having to be dead and all and not being able to walk around all the time acting saintly and saying saintly things. Esther's obsession with the Nutria is second only to her obsession with Esperanto. She writes in it, she watches movies in it, and she tries so very very hard to speak it without an accent. Then there's DJ Esperanto but that's a whole different discussion, at least semantically. Her attempts to teach Esperanto to the Nutria in the hopes of convincing them to take up guns and take over the world have not been going as planned but she's a gal who's willing to flex her schedule as needed, if you know what I mean. And I'm sure you do, don't you, you sly devil? Oh Esther, how do we love thee? Let us count the ways. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty- nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven. Yes, thirty- seven ways. That's how many ways we love Saint Esther, Patroness of the Nutria and their life-milk producing teats. Long may she live, although she has to die because she's a saint. Bummer, that.