Kibbles 'n Bits® - Felyin' Edition
Canine Edition here.
In the interest of every member of the family beginning the new year--ah--fresh, we discovered some helpful instructions.
Not long ago we were all laughin' about Wind Rider over at Silent Running tryin' to give his felyin' Petra her first bath. Wonder if he read these directions first.
And speakin' of Wind Rider--well, even that felyin' lover emptied the litter pan when he read about this:
The animal in question bein' the civet. Wonder if they'd still be willin' to pay $300 for their coffee if they knew some civets carry a kind of SARS virus.
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posted by Harrison at 1:18 AM
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In the interest of every member of the family beginning the new year--ah--fresh, we discovered some helpful instructions.
Not long ago we were all laughin' about Wind Rider over at Silent Running tryin' to give his felyin' Petra her first bath. Wonder if he read these directions first.
Instructions on cat grooming product, simplified for your convenience:
1. wet cat thoroughly
2. apply product and comb through cat’s wet coat.
3. keep cat from grooming for 10 minutes.
4. rinse product thoroughly off of cat.
5. dry cat to make sure (product) is completely off cat.
Actual sequence of events:
0. cat senses you’re up to no good, hides under table.
0.2 cat runs under couch.
0.4 cat resists being picked up.
0.6 cat realizes it is being brought towards the sink.
0.8 mortal komcat!
1. wet cat thoroughly
1.2 put cat back in water and get another 1% of cat wet before cat gets out again.
1.4 amazingly, cat has managed to writhe into a position where she’s holding herself away from the faucet with all four legs, her head, and her tail.
1.6 reassure kitty that everything’s okay, yank head back to avoid claw in eye.
1.8 wet cat the rest of the way.
2. apply product and comb through cat’s wet coat.
2.2 apply product with one hand while holding cat with the other
2.4 cat lunges for freedom, hides in bedroom.
2.6 find cat in box, continue grooming.
2.8 box falls to shreds, cat’s coat is fully combed through.
3. keep soaking wet cat from grooming for 10 minutes
(no, really. these people are insane.)
Continued in Read the Rest!
4. rinse product thoroughly off cat.
4.2 carry festival of whirling sharp claws back to bathroom.
4.4 put cat near stream of water.
4.6 every movable object in the bathroom falls to the floor as cat struggles in matrixesque bullet-time and attempts to propel herself through ceiling.
4.8 cat gets washed.
5. dry cat thoroughly.
5.2 chase cat around apartment with towel.
5.4 wrap cat in towel, fluff dry.
5.6 cat gets out of towel.
5.8 see 5.4
6. cat stares balefully from the top of a bookshelf.
6.2 cat stares balefully from the top of a bookshelf.
6.4 cat stares balefully from the top of a bookshelf.
6.6 cat stares balefully from the top of a bookshelf.
6.8 cat stares balefully from the top of a bookshelf.
And speakin' of Wind Rider--well, even that felyin' lover emptied the litter pan when he read about this:
Filipinos seek to boost production of coffee beans retrieved from animal droppings
The animal in question bein' the civet. Wonder if they'd still be willin' to pay $300 for their coffee if they knew some civets carry a kind of SARS virus.
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posted by Harrison at 1:18 AM
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Thursday, December 30, 2004
Interesting Background
Jonah Goldberg of NRO's The Corner found this picture of the rescue efforts after the earthquake/tsunami. Check out the T-shirt on the youth just left of center. (Cropped for size. Click the picture for full image at Getty Images.)
I'm gonna' be takin' this Wrath of God business more seriously.
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posted by Harrison at 11:55 PM
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I'm gonna' be takin' this Wrath of God business more seriously.
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posted by Harrison at 11:55 PM
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Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Kibbles 'n Bits® - Canine edition
We've had company these last few days which always makes everyone crazy. A couple of Boston Bull Terriers--Becky and Jerry. Cute little things if you like that pushed-in-face look. But damn can they snore! My ass is draggin' from lack of sleep.
On top of it all, Becky had surgery a week ago, so she's not supposed to run and jump. Yeah right. Tell a terrier (except us, 'cause we already know our manners) not to run and jump. AHM has spent a lot of time racing around, grabbing Becky, and plunking her back in the dog bed. Race, grab, plunk. Repeat as necessary. LG got irritated and decided to set up camp between Becky's bed and the back door. So now it's race, grrrrrrr, "Knock it off!" and Becky plunks herself back in bed. The rest of us just watch the tennis game back and forth, back and forth… Endless entertainment around here.
All and all Christmas was good--good food, good treats, good chew toys. AHM knows what we like. That way we'll never do anything like this:
Barry Johnson at The Royal Flush directed me over to this Doug Giles Townhall.com column. He's got it right, 'tho I'm not too crazy about the "pit bull" analogy. For the record, I've never met a bad pit bull--but, then again, I've only met 'em at dog shows. Interesting analysis. It would have been much better, though, if Giles had used the full name: Pit Bull Terrier. Everything he says fits almost every terrier I've ever known--and believe me, I've know a lot! Oh, and in case ya' forgot, except for bein' in Group competition at shows, I'm the alpha dog and I am the greater one--among canines, that is.
Anyway, you decide which you are--and be honest. Unless you're a Demo-cat, of course. Then you've got more problems than this little quiz can solve.
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posted by Harrison at 10:16 PM
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On top of it all, Becky had surgery a week ago, so she's not supposed to run and jump. Yeah right. Tell a terrier (except us, 'cause we already know our manners) not to run and jump. AHM has spent a lot of time racing around, grabbing Becky, and plunking her back in the dog bed. Race, grab, plunk. Repeat as necessary. LG got irritated and decided to set up camp between Becky's bed and the back door. So now it's race, grrrrrrr, "Knock it off!" and Becky plunks herself back in bed. The rest of us just watch the tennis game back and forth, back and forth… Endless entertainment around here.
All and all Christmas was good--good food, good treats, good chew toys. AHM knows what we like. That way we'll never do anything like this:
Dog drives truck into store
"…Henson told police he was standing there in the store when he looked up and saw his dog driving his truck through the window.
"No one was hurt and no humans or animals were cited."
Barry Johnson at The Royal Flush directed me over to this Doug Giles Townhall.com column. He's got it right, 'tho I'm not too crazy about the "pit bull" analogy. For the record, I've never met a bad pit bull--but, then again, I've only met 'em at dog shows. Interesting analysis. It would have been much better, though, if Giles had used the full name: Pit Bull Terrier. Everything he says fits almost every terrier I've ever known--and believe me, I've know a lot! Oh, and in case ya' forgot, except for bein' in Group competition at shows, I'm the alpha dog and I am the greater one--among canines, that is.
Anyway, you decide which you are--and be honest. Unless you're a Demo-cat, of course. Then you've got more problems than this little quiz can solve.
Pit Bull [Terrier] Test
1. Do you have a definite purpose backed up by a burning desire to see it fulfilled?
2. Are you continuously in action working on your plan?
3. Is your mind closed towards all negative and discouraging influences from foes, “friends,” dysfunctional parents, music, books, tapes, T.V. etc?
4. Do you hang out with people who are greater than you in what they have accomplished and who utterly challenge you to excellence?
5. Are you self-reliant and independent?
6. Do you take responsibility for your life, both failures and successes?
7. Do you hate it when you waste time?
8. Do you look at life as a game to be played and played like a champion?
9. Have you become impervious to the criticisms of pusillanimous men and women?
10. Do you boldly face your fears with faith and move towards your goals?
Poodle Test
1. Do you often complain about your life?
2. Do you avoid association with people who have accomplished more than you?
3. Does your life seem futile and your future hopeless?
4. Do you often feel self-pity?
5. Are you envious of those who excel you?
6. Do you worry a lot?
7. Are you overly cautious and negative?
8. Are you indifferent and lacking in ambition and enthusiasm?
9. Do you constantly use excuses and alibis to explain why you haven’t accomplished anything?
10. Do you often fantasize about lying on the front passenger seat of a Cadillac with a pink ribbon in your hair with your favorite chew toy?
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posted by Harrison at 10:16 PM
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Friday, December 24, 2004
Do You Hear What I Hear?
There's a legend that every Christmas Eve something miracluous happens at midnight. You might have to listen very, very closely--and even then you'll need the wonder of a child to hear it--and believe.
A Blessed Christmas to all.
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posted by Harrison at 5:41 PM
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"Over 2,000 years ago, Jesus was born in a stable in Bethlehem. This was no abandoned place, but was a working stable, filled with animals of all kinds. Into these humble surroundings, encircled by the innocent creatures of God, the Savior of man came into the world.
"Now according to legend, at least, Christ's birth occurred at exactly midnight. Inside the stable, the animals watched in wonder as the new-born babe was lovingly wrapped in swaddling clothes and placed in a manger.
"Suddenly, God gave voice to the animals and immediately they began to praise God for the miracle they had just seen. This went on for several minutes and, just before the entrance of the shepherds -- who had hurried to the stable because angels had told them the Christ had been born there -- the animals again fell silent. The only humans who had heard them were Mary, Joseph and, of course, the Christ child.
"The legend of the talking animals persists to this day... And every Christmas Eve, wide-eyed children creep into stables just before midnight to hear the animals praise God for the wondrous birth of His Son. Of course, adults scoff at this. "Old wives tales," they grump...
"But the children know -- or at least believe -- that animals really do praise God at midnight every Christmas Eve. And who of us -- those who believe in an all-powerful God -- can say that it really doesn't happen?
"Jesus looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible." (Matthew 19:26 NIV)
A Blessed Christmas to all.
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posted by Harrison at 5:41 PM
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'Twas the Night
As you join family and friends over the next few days, you might be moved to gather 'round the piano and sing a few Christmas songs. We will--at least until the neighbors call the police about the noise.
Anyway, in the interest of not offending anyone, The Underscore has provided revised lyrics to that perennial holiday favorite, The 12 Days of Christmas…for the politically correct.
(And if you're not reading his blog, you should, and consider adding the young man it to your blogroll.)
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posted by Harrison at 1:01 PM
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Anyway, in the interest of not offending anyone, The Underscore has provided revised lyrics to that perennial holiday favorite, The 12 Days of Christmas…for the politically correct.
(And if you're not reading his blog, you should, and consider adding the young man it to your blogroll.)
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posted by Harrison at 1:01 PM
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FYI
Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.
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posted by Harrison at 12:22 AM
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posted by Harrison at 12:22 AM
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Thursday, December 23, 2004
Attention K-Mart Shoppers…
…Wal-Mart shoppers, Target shoppers, Sears, Penney's, Lowes, Staples, Toys-R-Us, Pet Smart shoppers and anyone else who feels the need to spend hours racing around the track otherwise known as the mall parking lot.
Listen up you Geritol geriatrics in Grand Marquis, cell-phone mamas in Caravans, and daddy dufusses in Durangos. That vintage VW Beetle you see headed toward you is not the latest Mattel/Fisher-Price "Wee-One Wheels." You can not shove it aside, crowd it into a corner, or run over it without consequences. It comes with a real driver (plus canine sidekick) who is probably more sneaky, more slippery, and, yes, smarter than you. (I know I am.) We can go around, between, and maybe under you (although AHM resisted exploring that option). We can slide into places your butt wouldn't fit in, and no amount of spittin', swearin', and horn-blowin' is gonna' alter our course toward that open space three slots from the front door. Trust me on this--you don't want to get between this canine boy and his chew toy.
And to all those pickup pappys cruisin' the freeway… Yes, that same vintage Bug with four-on-the-floor can pass you--goin' 70--uphill--especially if it's driven by a woman whose ex- was a Formula One race driver. Resist the tobacco chaw-and-testosterone urge to roar past at 110 mph 'cause AHM knows where the speed traps are--and you just got suckered.
He, he, he--Merry Christmas…
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posted by Harrison at 12:54 PM
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Listen up you Geritol geriatrics in Grand Marquis, cell-phone mamas in Caravans, and daddy dufusses in Durangos. That vintage VW Beetle you see headed toward you is not the latest Mattel/Fisher-Price "Wee-One Wheels." You can not shove it aside, crowd it into a corner, or run over it without consequences. It comes with a real driver (plus canine sidekick) who is probably more sneaky, more slippery, and, yes, smarter than you. (I know I am.) We can go around, between, and maybe under you (although AHM resisted exploring that option). We can slide into places your butt wouldn't fit in, and no amount of spittin', swearin', and horn-blowin' is gonna' alter our course toward that open space three slots from the front door. Trust me on this--you don't want to get between this canine boy and his chew toy.
And to all those pickup pappys cruisin' the freeway… Yes, that same vintage Bug with four-on-the-floor can pass you--goin' 70--uphill--especially if it's driven by a woman whose ex- was a Formula One race driver. Resist the tobacco chaw-and-testosterone urge to roar past at 110 mph 'cause AHM knows where the speed traps are--and you just got suckered.
He, he, he--Merry Christmas…
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posted by Harrison at 12:54 PM
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Tuesday, December 21, 2004
All I Want for Christmas…
…is a Hillary chew from Political Pet Toys. Their motto: "You can't get even, but your pet can."
"Seeing your dog happily drag this personality around the garden will give you similar satisfaction of ‘getting even’."
It would be worth the $12.95 just to watch Maury rip that sucker to shreds!
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posted by Harrison at 1:10 PM
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Virtual Christmas Pups
Machelle at Quality Weenie reminded me of Barney's new Christmas video. As she says "A president that would act for Barney Cam has to be a great guy." Not only that, he shows extreme bipartisanship by warnin' Barney not to chase the Demo-cat Willie around the house. (Karl Rove removin' all the blue ornaments from the Christmas tree is sorta' funny too.)
Bein' smart, responsible pet owners, the President and Mrs. Bush are not bringin' new puppy Miss Beazley home until after Christmas. Wise advice even blue staters should appreciate.
But, if you're absolutely set on havin' a puppy for Christmas, you might look around for this new Nintendo game Bacchus doG of Whine mentioned a while ago: Puppy Times.
Get the puppy later--I recommend when the snow melts. Believe me, there's nothin' worse than tryin' to housebreak a pup with two feet of snow on the ground.
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posted by Harrison at 11:56 AM
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Bein' smart, responsible pet owners, the President and Mrs. Bush are not bringin' new puppy Miss Beazley home until after Christmas. Wise advice even blue staters should appreciate.
But, if you're absolutely set on havin' a puppy for Christmas, you might look around for this new Nintendo game Bacchus doG of Whine mentioned a while ago: Puppy Times.
"In Puppy Times, you can raise up to three adorable puppies and play with them to your heart’s content. You can also teach your pups new tricks – just speak into the built-in microphone and they’ll respond to the voice commands you’ve taught them. Not only that, but you can even play Puppy Times over a wireless connection!"
Get the puppy later--I recommend when the snow melts. Believe me, there's nothin' worse than tryin' to housebreak a pup with two feet of snow on the ground.
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posted by Harrison at 11:56 AM
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R.I.P. Atkins Diet
Rumor is the Atkins diet fad is over. So, in honor of all the food you humans will cram down your collective throats this Christmas season (to make up for those months of deprivin' yourselves) the BBC has made of list of fifty things you should eat before you die. Really. 'Course from the looks of this list, eatin' some of this stuff might hurry along the dyin' part. I'm not so sure I'd try 'em out even if AHM served me a silver platter full.
The really weird part about this list is AHM claims to have eaten almost every one--except for numbers 11, 22, 32 (eewww), and 37. See, when she was a kid, she got to do a lot of travelin' with her parents, so I almost believe her. (But I'm still not buyin' the monkey stew she insists she had in Indonesia.)
[They didn't tell me it was monkey until after we ate it--AHM.]
[Yeah right. Whatever you say--Harrison.]
Read the rest! for the whole list. And if some of these suggestions don't put you off your food, nothin' will.
[WARNING: Some of the food on this list might be poisonous to pets so don't feed them any no matter how much they beg for a taste--AHM.]
[How much other, less dignified pets beg, you mean--Harrison.]
1. Fresh Fish, 2. Lobster, 3. Steak, 4. Thai food, 5. Chinese food,
6. Ice cream, 7. Pizza, 8. Crab, 9. Curry, 10. Prawns
11. Moreton Bay Bugs. Yeech. Accordin' to those who know, they're not bugs at all. They're "…a saltwater crustacean…a mouth-watering treat with sweet succulent flesh that is reminiscent of lobster…one of Australia's best-loved seafoods."
12. Clam chowder, 13. Barbecues, 14. Pancakes, 15. Pasta, 16. Mussels, 17. Cheesecake 18. Lamb 19. Cream tea, 20. Alligator, 21. Oysters,
22. Kangaroo, 23. Chocolate, 24. Sandwiches, 25. Greek food 26.Burgers, 27. Mexican food, 28. Squid, 29. American diner breakfast, 30. Salmon, 31. Venison
32. Guinea pig. Now this is just gross. I would never eat a guinea pig even if someone in Peru does claim they're "savoury." Those people must be sufferin' from the thin air up there in the Andes.
33. Shark, 34. Shushi, 35. Paella
36. Barramundi. Another Australian fish. They barbecue it. 'Course they barbecue most anything down there. Maybe that's why I'm so addicted to ribs--it's in the DNA of Australians (even terriers) to eat stuff burned in a big flaming pit.
37. Reindeer (at Christmas?!), 38. Kebab, 39. Scallops, 40. Australian meat pie 41. Mango
42. Durian fruit. "[T]his…tropical fruit is…notorious for emitting a pungent, 'distinctive' odour (think clogged drains in August) from its edible, yellowish flesh. [T]he flavour…is like custard and strawberries…" AHM insists her dad made her try this…ah…fruit when they were in Indonesia, but I'm puttin' that in the "monkey stew" category.
43. Octopus (very big in France these days), 44. Ribs, 45. Roast beef, 46. Tapas, 47. Jerk chicken/pork (more barbecue, but from Jamacia this time), 48. Haggis, 49. Caviar, 50. Cornish pasty
Burp...
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posted by Harrison at 12:37 AM
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The really weird part about this list is AHM claims to have eaten almost every one--except for numbers 11, 22, 32 (eewww), and 37. See, when she was a kid, she got to do a lot of travelin' with her parents, so I almost believe her. (But I'm still not buyin' the monkey stew she insists she had in Indonesia.)
[They didn't tell me it was monkey until after we ate it--AHM.]
[Yeah right. Whatever you say--Harrison.]
Read the rest! for the whole list. And if some of these suggestions don't put you off your food, nothin' will.
[WARNING: Some of the food on this list might be poisonous to pets so don't feed them any no matter how much they beg for a taste--AHM.]
[How much other, less dignified pets beg, you mean--Harrison.]
1. Fresh Fish, 2. Lobster, 3. Steak, 4. Thai food, 5. Chinese food,
6. Ice cream, 7. Pizza, 8. Crab, 9. Curry, 10. Prawns
11. Moreton Bay Bugs. Yeech. Accordin' to those who know, they're not bugs at all. They're "…a saltwater crustacean…a mouth-watering treat with sweet succulent flesh that is reminiscent of lobster…one of Australia's best-loved seafoods."
12. Clam chowder, 13. Barbecues, 14. Pancakes, 15. Pasta, 16. Mussels, 17. Cheesecake 18. Lamb 19. Cream tea, 20. Alligator, 21. Oysters,
22. Kangaroo, 23. Chocolate, 24. Sandwiches, 25. Greek food 26.Burgers, 27. Mexican food, 28. Squid, 29. American diner breakfast, 30. Salmon, 31. Venison
32. Guinea pig. Now this is just gross. I would never eat a guinea pig even if someone in Peru does claim they're "savoury." Those people must be sufferin' from the thin air up there in the Andes.
33. Shark, 34. Shushi, 35. Paella
36. Barramundi. Another Australian fish. They barbecue it. 'Course they barbecue most anything down there. Maybe that's why I'm so addicted to ribs--it's in the DNA of Australians (even terriers) to eat stuff burned in a big flaming pit.
37. Reindeer (at Christmas?!), 38. Kebab, 39. Scallops, 40. Australian meat pie 41. Mango
42. Durian fruit. "[T]his…tropical fruit is…notorious for emitting a pungent, 'distinctive' odour (think clogged drains in August) from its edible, yellowish flesh. [T]he flavour…is like custard and strawberries…" AHM insists her dad made her try this…ah…fruit when they were in Indonesia, but I'm puttin' that in the "monkey stew" category.
43. Octopus (very big in France these days), 44. Ribs, 45. Roast beef, 46. Tapas, 47. Jerk chicken/pork (more barbecue, but from Jamacia this time), 48. Haggis, 49. Caviar, 50. Cornish pasty
Burp...
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posted by Harrison at 12:37 AM
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Sunday, December 19, 2004
Best in Show
And the big red, white, and blue rosette goes to President George W. Bush (and Barney).
"After winning re-election and "reshaping the rules of politics to fit his 10-gallon-hat leadership style," President George Bush for the second time was chosen as Time magazine's Person of the Year.
"The magazine's editors tapped Bush "for sharpening the debate until the choices bled, for reframing reality to match his design, for gambling his fortunes — and ours — on his faith in the power of leadership."
Congratulations, Mr. President.
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posted by Harrison at 4:34 PM
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Thursday, December 16, 2004
Stupid Human Tricks
Well Maury was here recently and didn't do anything stupid which is some kind of record. Alpha Human Mom on the other hand…
Gotta' say it's not often we get to see AHM do stupid things--not since a couple of years ago when she dropped the air conditioner out the window, half-leaped after it, and hauled it back in by the power cord. Not the best view of AHM let me tell you! But the AC still works.
Most of ya' know AHM helps out people with dog sittin' which generally means we have lots of company like Maury and Miss Garbo. I'm okay with that--especially when that babe Garbo shows up--and it keeps things interestin' durin' the gardenin' season. And chasin' the Westie whimp Robbie around the yard gives my pups a change from chasin' fe-lyings. (Don't think his humans like him comin' home covered with grease from hidin' under the car all the time, but, hey, if you're gonna' be a wuss that's the price you pay.)
The other day, though, we went to Darwin's and Everton's house. We do that whenever their Alpha Human PB wants to spend a night or two with his special--ummm--friend. So the other night we strolled over to their place, sat around outside the garage/pen watchin' them eat (they hold the world food inhalin' record) then walked through the neighborhood to check out the Cute House. (More on that later, maybe.) When we got back to the (heated) garage, Darwin and Everton settled down on their beds, AHM checked the water, turned out the lights, and padlocked the door.
Pretty ordinary so far--until AHM was suddenly down at our level on her hands and knees, gropin' through the grass and leaves and mulch and most everythin' else you can think of--or not as the case may be. The pups thought it was a game and joined right in, stickin' their noses in all sorts of places--most of 'em where a human does not want a cold, wet, snotty dog nose stuck.
AHM started usin' words she musta' learned from a fe-lyin', pretendin' she was talkin' to us. (She does that a lot so people don't think she talks to herself. We pretend to understand.) We had just about figured out she'd mislaid PB's keyring when she sorta' got mislaid herself.
Ya' see, PB is a true English gardener with flowerbeds allllll over the place. Irregularly shaped, raised flowerbeds with waterin' troughs dug around the edges. Ya' don't run through his yard after dark since it's kinda' like chargin' across a WWI no man's land. Ya' don't crawl through his yard either, especially when it's dark and cold--and wet from rain.
There was a distinct splash and AHM hissin' more bad words--hissin' 'cause it was late and AHM isn't the sort to start yellin' obscenities at the top of her lungs no matter how much she wanted to. There were a bunch of sloppin', suckin' noises and then a Gawd-awful clangin'. Seems PB had stuck some decorative iron bells in that particular flowerbed. AHM got them all ringin'.
After a bunch more swearin' and squelchin', AHM finally decided to look through the garage window which led to some louder swearin'. There was just enough light from the corner street lamp to see the keyring lyin' on the workbench inside. Of course all the garage doors were locked. All the windows were locked too. No way in…
Except…
Continued…read the rest!
…except for the doggie door inside the pen.
This show was gonna be better than anything on Letterman.
Everton and Darwin came out and for a couple of seconds we all just stood there starin' at each other and the black hole in the garage wall. AHM isn't a large person but that openin' looked pretty small, especially in the dark. Finally she started gropin' through the bags of leaves piled along the fence--PB's a big recycler and he collects bags of leaves from other people's trash piles. (And you thought only canines went dumpster divin'!)
The gate was at the farthest corner from the light and about this time Everton decided AHM was playin' a game. He would run along the fence, jump up and try to lick AHM's face while she was fightin' with the gate latches. Sometimes he'd get in a lucky shot and AHM would stagger around tryin' to stay on her feet after gettin' smacked by a 60+ pound lab. We were stuck with our leashes tied to the pottin' table so we couldn't see the whole show, but there were bags of leaves bouncin' and rollin' in all directions, and bongin' off the metal frame of the old swing set PB had turned into a flower arbor.
Every time AHM got the gate to budge, Everton would jump against it, slammin' it shut until it started to look like one of those chest-thumpin' celebrations football players have after one of 'em scores a touchdown. AHM finally got the timin' right, actually gettin' inside the pen, and inchin' her way along the fence to the doggie door.
The moment of truth. We were at the end of our leashes strain' to see. Darwin and Everton were lined up like an honor guard by the door. AHM was warnin' 'em both, in no uncertain terms, of the consequences of them tryin' anything funny. Then she charged into the breech. Okay, crawled into the breech. Head. Shoulders. Hips. Butt. She made it!
Darwin and Everton were close behind, bouncin' in celebration. Maybe a little too close. There were a couple of thumps and bangs, a clatter, a slosh, and the sound of AHM usin' more fe-lyin' words. Then she came out through the big garage door, drippin' wet, carryin' the giant sized water bowl. And the keys.
I think even Letterman would be impressed.
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posted by Harrison at 2:18 PM
2 comments
Gotta' say it's not often we get to see AHM do stupid things--not since a couple of years ago when she dropped the air conditioner out the window, half-leaped after it, and hauled it back in by the power cord. Not the best view of AHM let me tell you! But the AC still works.
Most of ya' know AHM helps out people with dog sittin' which generally means we have lots of company like Maury and Miss Garbo. I'm okay with that--especially when that babe Garbo shows up--and it keeps things interestin' durin' the gardenin' season. And chasin' the Westie whimp Robbie around the yard gives my pups a change from chasin' fe-lyings. (Don't think his humans like him comin' home covered with grease from hidin' under the car all the time, but, hey, if you're gonna' be a wuss that's the price you pay.)
The other day, though, we went to Darwin's and Everton's house. We do that whenever their Alpha Human PB wants to spend a night or two with his special--ummm--friend. So the other night we strolled over to their place, sat around outside the garage/pen watchin' them eat (they hold the world food inhalin' record) then walked through the neighborhood to check out the Cute House. (More on that later, maybe.) When we got back to the (heated) garage, Darwin and Everton settled down on their beds, AHM checked the water, turned out the lights, and padlocked the door.
Pretty ordinary so far--until AHM was suddenly down at our level on her hands and knees, gropin' through the grass and leaves and mulch and most everythin' else you can think of--or not as the case may be. The pups thought it was a game and joined right in, stickin' their noses in all sorts of places--most of 'em where a human does not want a cold, wet, snotty dog nose stuck.
AHM started usin' words she musta' learned from a fe-lyin', pretendin' she was talkin' to us. (She does that a lot so people don't think she talks to herself. We pretend to understand.) We had just about figured out she'd mislaid PB's keyring when she sorta' got mislaid herself.
Ya' see, PB is a true English gardener with flowerbeds allllll over the place. Irregularly shaped, raised flowerbeds with waterin' troughs dug around the edges. Ya' don't run through his yard after dark since it's kinda' like chargin' across a WWI no man's land. Ya' don't crawl through his yard either, especially when it's dark and cold--and wet from rain.
There was a distinct splash and AHM hissin' more bad words--hissin' 'cause it was late and AHM isn't the sort to start yellin' obscenities at the top of her lungs no matter how much she wanted to. There were a bunch of sloppin', suckin' noises and then a Gawd-awful clangin'. Seems PB had stuck some decorative iron bells in that particular flowerbed. AHM got them all ringin'.
After a bunch more swearin' and squelchin', AHM finally decided to look through the garage window which led to some louder swearin'. There was just enough light from the corner street lamp to see the keyring lyin' on the workbench inside. Of course all the garage doors were locked. All the windows were locked too. No way in…
Except…
Continued…read the rest!
…except for the doggie door inside the pen.
This show was gonna be better than anything on Letterman.
Everton and Darwin came out and for a couple of seconds we all just stood there starin' at each other and the black hole in the garage wall. AHM isn't a large person but that openin' looked pretty small, especially in the dark. Finally she started gropin' through the bags of leaves piled along the fence--PB's a big recycler and he collects bags of leaves from other people's trash piles. (And you thought only canines went dumpster divin'!)
The gate was at the farthest corner from the light and about this time Everton decided AHM was playin' a game. He would run along the fence, jump up and try to lick AHM's face while she was fightin' with the gate latches. Sometimes he'd get in a lucky shot and AHM would stagger around tryin' to stay on her feet after gettin' smacked by a 60+ pound lab. We were stuck with our leashes tied to the pottin' table so we couldn't see the whole show, but there were bags of leaves bouncin' and rollin' in all directions, and bongin' off the metal frame of the old swing set PB had turned into a flower arbor.
Every time AHM got the gate to budge, Everton would jump against it, slammin' it shut until it started to look like one of those chest-thumpin' celebrations football players have after one of 'em scores a touchdown. AHM finally got the timin' right, actually gettin' inside the pen, and inchin' her way along the fence to the doggie door.
The moment of truth. We were at the end of our leashes strain' to see. Darwin and Everton were lined up like an honor guard by the door. AHM was warnin' 'em both, in no uncertain terms, of the consequences of them tryin' anything funny. Then she charged into the breech. Okay, crawled into the breech. Head. Shoulders. Hips. Butt. She made it!
Darwin and Everton were close behind, bouncin' in celebration. Maybe a little too close. There were a couple of thumps and bangs, a clatter, a slosh, and the sound of AHM usin' more fe-lyin' words. Then she came out through the big garage door, drippin' wet, carryin' the giant sized water bowl. And the keys.
I think even Letterman would be impressed.
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 2:18 PM
2 comments
Fa la ha ha
 |
My kid Hem's the musical one in the family. (His articulation's not real good, but his timing, expression, volume, and enthusiasm are definitely above average.) Anyway, when he saw this over at Barking Moonbat Early Warning System he whined at AHM until she agreed to post it. Try to guess which song is which--before you check the answers. |
1. Bleached Yule
2. Castaneous-colored Seed Vesicated in a Conflagration
3. Singular Yearning for the Twin Anterior Incisors
4. Righteous Darkness
5. Arrival Time: 2400 hrs - Weather: Cloudless
6. Loyal Followers Advance
7. Far Off in a Feeder
8. Array the Corridor
9. Bantam Male Percussionist
10. Monarchical Triad
11. Nocturnal Noiselessness
12. Jehovah Deactivate Blithe Chevaliers
13. Red Man En Route to Borough
14. Frozen Precipitation Commence
15. Proceed and Enlighten on the Pinnacle
16. The Quadruped with the Vermilion Proboscis
17. Query Regarding Identity of Descendant
18. Delight for this Planet
19. Give Attention to the Melodious Celestial Beings
20. The Dozen Festive 24 Hour Intervals
Read the rest! to find the answers…
ANSWERS:
1. White Christmas
2. Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire
3. All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth
4. O Holy Night
5. It Came Upon a Midnight Clear
6. O Come, All Ye Faithful
7. Away in a Manger
8. Deck the Hall
9. Little Drummer Boy
10. We Three Kings
11. Silent Night
12. God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen
13. Santa Claus is Coming to Town
14. Let it Snow
15. Go, Tell It on the Mountain
16. Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer
17. What Child is This?
18. Joy to the World
19. Hark! The Herald Angels Sing
20. The Twelve Days of Christmas
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 1:01 AM
1 comments
Monday, December 13, 2004
The Ugliest Christmas Tree
No, it's not a new Disney animated special. It's in Amsterdam. (Paw down for picture.)
The original article is in Dutch--and we don't read Dutch--but according to comments here a radio station bought the tree and it was damaged during shipment. That's what they say. I suspect no one will admit it what really happened:
Mother Goose & Grimm by Mike Peters
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 1:16 PM
0 comments
The original article is in Dutch--and we don't read Dutch--but according to comments here a radio station bought the tree and it was damaged during shipment. That's what they say. I suspect no one will admit it what really happened:
Mother Goose & Grimm by Mike Peters
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 1:16 PM
0 comments
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Oh, the Tragedy…
…of felyin' victims of divorce.
Sounds like a new catblogger in the making.
Greg at A Dog's Life focuses on the bigger concern for society:
To borrow a phrase, here comes the junk science…
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 11:33 PM
0 comments
Massachusetts Gays Divorcing.
"The first gay divorce case in Suffolk County, which includes Boston, was filed Wednesday by a male couple who exchanged vows on May 22, five days after same-sex marriage was legalized.
"…Each man signed a settlement attesting that the marriage had "irretrievably broken down."
"The most difficult part of the settlement appeared to be custody of their three cats, who will live exclusively with the professor. But "in recognition of the emotional hardship of such relinquishment," the settlement reads, the professor agreed to provide his ex "with periodic updates, photographs, and any health-related information pertaining" to the cats."
Sounds like a new catblogger in the making.
Greg at A Dog's Life focuses on the bigger concern for society:
"Perhaps we can now have a federally-funded study to see whether cats from broken homes are more likely to claw the furniture and yack up hairballs in unwanted places than cats in stable gay households."
To borrow a phrase, here comes the junk science…
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 11:33 PM
0 comments
Support Your Local Mailman
Or at least don't bite 'em.
They have a tough job this time of year, even with the catalogue count bein' down 'cause of online sales. There are still piles of cards and packages and stuff you humans send out just because other humans think you should. SHF used to spend weeks sendin' out those things. Months. In fact, she sent out boxes of cards for every day under the sun--from Valentine's Day to New Years--just so people would like her, I guess. (Bet ya' didn't know there are Labor Day cards. Yeah, neither did we until we met her.) Never could figure that out. Those silly cardboard things aren't worth crap in the chewin' department, and you humans get really pissed when we try 'em out. Send me a good ole' Dentabone® any day. But I digress.
There was a whole lot of postin' over at NRO's The Corner this past week about dogs bein' mentioned in Christmas carols (none that people could find) and that (plus the mess of little white squares driftin' out of the mailbox) reminded me canines (unlike fe-lyin's) have done their fair share of work in gettin' the holiday mail out. Gettin' all sorts of mail out, actually.
AHM and me were surfin' through the Improbable Research site the other day and ran across this story about Owney, Mascot of the Railway Mail Service.
So ya' see, canines haven't always been the bogeydogs of a mail carrier's existence.
If ya' wanna' know more, a bunch of books have been written about Owney. You can buy one if you want--there's even an official one published by the Postal Service (right, like they need more money!). Or, you can go here to read a tale of Owney's adventures written by children's author Carl L. Biemiller.
My pups loved it.
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 1:32 PM
0 comments
They have a tough job this time of year, even with the catalogue count bein' down 'cause of online sales. There are still piles of cards and packages and stuff you humans send out just because other humans think you should. SHF used to spend weeks sendin' out those things. Months. In fact, she sent out boxes of cards for every day under the sun--from Valentine's Day to New Years--just so people would like her, I guess. (Bet ya' didn't know there are Labor Day cards. Yeah, neither did we until we met her.) Never could figure that out. Those silly cardboard things aren't worth crap in the chewin' department, and you humans get really pissed when we try 'em out. Send me a good ole' Dentabone® any day. But I digress.
There was a whole lot of postin' over at NRO's The Corner this past week about dogs bein' mentioned in Christmas carols (none that people could find) and that (plus the mess of little white squares driftin' out of the mailbox) reminded me canines (unlike fe-lyin's) have done their fair share of work in gettin' the holiday mail out. Gettin' all sorts of mail out, actually.
AHM and me were surfin' through the Improbable Research site the other day and ran across this story about Owney, Mascot of the Railway Mail Service.
"The tramp mail dog soon became the faithful companion of the nation's railway mail clerks. He traveled with the mail pouches wherever they went, jumping from one train to the next…mail clerks at the Albany post office fastened a note to Owney's collar asking employees of the Railway Mail Service to record his journeys by attaching leather and metal baggage tags to his collar. Soon his tiny collar was so heavy Owney could hardly hold up his head… Postmaster General John Wanamaker presented Owney with a special harness-like jacket on which the dog's souvenirs could be more evenly spread around."
So ya' see, canines haven't always been the bogeydogs of a mail carrier's existence.
If ya' wanna' know more, a bunch of books have been written about Owney. You can buy one if you want--there's even an official one published by the Postal Service (right, like they need more money!). Or, you can go here to read a tale of Owney's adventures written by children's author Carl L. Biemiller.
My pups loved it.
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 1:32 PM
0 comments
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Kibbles 'n Bits®
Republi-canine migrates from blue-state Washington to red-state Texas. Blue state owner says it's too much trouble to have the dog sent home. (Get a demo-cat ya' dumb broad!)
And humans say we lick strange things…
Fe-lyin' s reveal alien mind meld terrorist plot.
Tig cam?--oops no--Tgcom…
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 1:36 AM
2 comments
"A trucker found the 11-year-old mixed breed dog in Amarillo a week ago and brought her to a Denton veterinary hospital — 1,600 miles away from her Castle Rock, Wash. home.
"Gail Scott was shocked when the North Texas animal hospital called to say they'd found her dog, who was identified through an implanted microchip. "How did my dog get to Texas?" she recalls asking…
"Scott, who adopted Carla in 1998 from a Washington pound, has asked the animal hospital to put the dog up for adoption. She said it would be too hard to get Carla back to Washington because it's too cold for her to fly in the cargo area of a plane and too expensive to hire someone to drive her home.
"The Flower Mound Human Society is now caring for Carla and looking for a family to adopt her. At least one person has expressed interest."
And humans say we lick strange things…
"The Cleveland radio sidekick apparently missed that sage advice: Don't lick a bug-zapper. Dieter learned a harsh lesson Friday during a stunt on "Rover's Morning Glory" on "Xtreme Radio" (WXTM FM/92.3). He plugged in a dirty, back-porch hanging contraption and stuck his tongue on the wire grate."
Fe-lyin' s reveal alien mind meld terrorist plot.
"An Italian man who believes he's a cat had to be rescued by firemen when he got stuck up a tree. Shoppers spotted the man at the top of the tree mewing for help and called rescue services after he was still there more than an hour later.
"Attempts by local kids to coax him down with a saucer of milk failed, and as a result the 46-year-old cat-man had to be carried down a ladder by firemen. He was taken to hospital in Milan where he is undergoing psychiatric tests, news website Tgcom reported."
Tig cam?--oops no--Tgcom…
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 1:36 AM
2 comments
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Nobody's Puppet
What Muppet Are You?
You are Rowlf.
You are a loner, and love classical music.
You can play the piano without opposable thumbs.
Then again, you are just a Muppet.
What Muppet are you? brought to you by Quizilla
Dug up at Spare Change.
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posted by Harrison at 3:42 PM
0 comments
You are Rowlf.
You are a loner, and love classical music.
You can play the piano without opposable thumbs.
Then again, you are just a Muppet.
Dug up at Spare Change.
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 3:42 PM
0 comments
"Good Dogs, Bad People and Cats"
Now there's a New York Times headline I like! [Login: ih8reges PW: thatsright]
It's impossible to get any kind of answer. They're all too busy pretendin' they're gods or somethin'.
Hmmmm… Speakin' of "free riders"…
What does he know. My dad was big on keepin' the pack in line and he definitely cared. One of my half-sisters had turned into quite a little street-walker which irritated the hell out of us. (She was a real head case--we decided it was 'cause she hung around with Silly Human Female too much.) Half-sis would climb the four foot high picket fence. Yep--the picket fence--the kind with pointy tops. Makes me cringe just thinkin' about it. Then she'd go shashayin' around town, wigglin' her butt at every stray hangin' on the streetcorner, while the rest of us ran around like fools tryin' to find her.
Dad was definitely morally outraged about the whole thing, and decided to put a stop to her behavior. Every time she headed for the fence and started to climb, he would rush off to find AHM and raise such a ruckus she'd come outside in time to catch sis in the act.
I've talked about social group/moral values business already. Now, I'm not too sure about carryin' around guilt for years and years, but we sure as hell know when we've screwed up and try not to repeat that mistake. And we remember for years and years not to repeat that mistake!
Go watch a major dog show some day--especially the Best in Show competition. There we are, all millin' around muzzle to muzzle, and (mostly) never fightin'! And if a Borzoi wins BOS at Westminster, you don't see every Borzoi in town riotin' and burnin' their kennels in celebration, do you? So already our moral values are better than your average sports fan's. Not to mention a fe-lyin's. Go visit a major fe-lyin' beauty contest and you'll see they have to keep those suckers in cages 'cause they just can't get along!
Yeah. Humans spend waaaayyy to much time worryin' about whether or not their feelin's have been hurt. Geeze! If they had to put up with the crap we canines have to deal with they'd be blithering fools. Oh. Wait…
Not too sure about that "moral bonds" business. I gotta' admit, if a hot babe in heat wanders past it's every canine for himself. And the bitch is no great paragon of moral virture either! But aside from that we generally respect everyone in the pack--unlike those spoiled brat "only dogs" we sometimes meet up with. (Are ya' listenin' Maury?)
Which just proves my point that dogs are Republi-canines and fe-lyin's are Demo-cats!
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 1:16 PM
1 comments
"Do animals have moral values? It's a tough question. We can't rely on exit polls. As everyone knows, it's impossible to get a straight answer from a cat.
It's impossible to get any kind of answer. They're all too busy pretendin' they're gods or somethin'.
"The question comes to mind because of a report in the Nov. 25 issue of Nature by Karthik Panchanathan and Dr. Robert Boyd of the University of California, Los Angeles. The researchers did a mathematical analysis of how cooperation and punishment might make evolutionary sense.
"…it's hard to see how cooperation would evolve without punishment. Why not be a slugabed, or free rider, as the researchers term it, and live off the cooperative people? The analysis showed that one punishment, refusing to help free riders, turns out to be a method that makes survival sense."
Hmmmm… Speakin' of "free riders"…
"Fair enough. But in something of an offhand comment, quoted in a U.C.L.A. news release, Mr. Panchanathan said, "If you put two dogs together, and one dog does something inappropriate, the other dog doesn't care, so long as it doesn't get hurt." He added, "It certainly wouldn't react with moralist outrage. Likewise, it would not experience elation if it saw one dog help out another dog. But humans are very different."
What does he know. My dad was big on keepin' the pack in line and he definitely cared. One of my half-sisters had turned into quite a little street-walker which irritated the hell out of us. (She was a real head case--we decided it was 'cause she hung around with Silly Human Female too much.) Half-sis would climb the four foot high picket fence. Yep--the picket fence--the kind with pointy tops. Makes me cringe just thinkin' about it. Then she'd go shashayin' around town, wigglin' her butt at every stray hangin' on the streetcorner, while the rest of us ran around like fools tryin' to find her.
Dad was definitely morally outraged about the whole thing, and decided to put a stop to her behavior. Every time she headed for the fence and started to climb, he would rush off to find AHM and raise such a ruckus she'd come outside in time to catch sis in the act.
"…If dogs have a sense of right and wrong, then they could do wrong. Right? They may not be capable of carrying guilt around for years and years and years, but they do recognize certain rules about how to act in a social group, and that is sort of a moral value."
I've talked about social group/moral values business already. Now, I'm not too sure about carryin' around guilt for years and years, but we sure as hell know when we've screwed up and try not to repeat that mistake. And we remember for years and years not to repeat that mistake!
Go watch a major dog show some day--especially the Best in Show competition. There we are, all millin' around muzzle to muzzle, and (mostly) never fightin'! And if a Borzoi wins BOS at Westminster, you don't see every Borzoi in town riotin' and burnin' their kennels in celebration, do you? So already our moral values are better than your average sports fan's. Not to mention a fe-lyin's. Go visit a major fe-lyin' beauty contest and you'll see they have to keep those suckers in cages 'cause they just can't get along!
"In fact, if moral values and moral outrage are results of evolution, in human beings they may have reached the level of being counterproductive, like the vast antlers that supposedly doomed the Irish elk."
Yeah. Humans spend waaaayyy to much time worryin' about whether or not their feelin's have been hurt. Geeze! If they had to put up with the crap we canines have to deal with they'd be blithering fools. Oh. Wait…
"Dogs could presumably evolve into the same morass. It is, however, reserved for social animals, as Dr. [Frans] de Waal [author of "Good Natured: The Origin of Right and Wrong in Humans and Other Animals,"] points out. Animals that evolved as solitary predators feel no moral bonds or restrictions on their behavior."
Not too sure about that "moral bonds" business. I gotta' admit, if a hot babe in heat wanders past it's every canine for himself. And the bitch is no great paragon of moral virture either! But aside from that we generally respect everyone in the pack--unlike those spoiled brat "only dogs" we sometimes meet up with. (Are ya' listenin' Maury?)
"Cats, in other words, are safe. They have no morals, which is one of the reasons so many people love them."
Which just proves my point that dogs are Republi-canines and fe-lyin's are Demo-cats!
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 1:16 PM
1 comments
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Home Alone...
Found this at Wonderdog Cal's. Now maybe he has a problem, but my conscience is clear.
Click panel for full strip.
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posted by Harrison at 1:08 AM
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Click panel for full strip.
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 1:08 AM
0 comments
Monday, December 06, 2004
Flying Pulp, Babes, and Voting
Dug up this article at Dave Barry's Blog and was reminded first of this post over at Aaron's Rantblog (who also created somethin' called Blogopoly), and second of the 2004 Weblog Awards voting.
PS. Speakin' of the 2004 Weblog Awards, don't forget to vote for the Homespun Bloggers. We're not gonna beat Drew Fark, but hey, second is certainly an achievement. So's third.
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posted by Harrison at 11:55 PM
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"Zen and the Art of Pumpkin Bombing
"Our bomb runs were flown with the accuracy of Doolittle over Tokyo -- meaning I believe I could've hit a target the size of that city. Instead, the tiny boat from 500 feet looked like a beer can. In fact, as we released our first bomb, we discovered that we indeed had aimed for a beer can and the boat was at least 50 feet west of that. Missed both.
"Throughout the afternoon, wave after wave of Champs, Cubs, Taylorcrafts, and Cessna 140s droned overhead unleashing orange hell on the target with a few projectiles even getting close. And then...we saw a World War II B-25 bomber enter the pattern, make a pass...then return for a long final approach with its landing gear tucked in the wells…
"The B-25 descended slightly...opened its bomb bay doors and, from its belly, countless orbs dropped, arcing toward the target, and quickly decelerating behind the bomber.
"…Now, imagine a whole bellyload of pumpkins tumbling from a bomber and raining upon the target, striking within microseconds of each other: "Fwump, fwump... Fwump! Fwump-whump...!"
"Pulp flew in the swirling blast, mingling, twisting, and colliding like chunky napalm. The target disappeared in a maelstrom of goo, seeds, and contorted rind. The horror ... the horror ... and oh, the humanity of 50 middle-aged pilots cheering from the sidelines as the mysterious B-25 pulled up and banked away, never to be seen again."
PS. Speakin' of the 2004 Weblog Awards, don't forget to vote for the Homespun Bloggers. We're not gonna beat Drew Fark, but hey, second is certainly an achievement. So's third.
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 11:55 PM
0 comments
I'm Just Sayin'
For the record, NRO's The Corner is one of my favorite places. It's the one place I make AHM check every mornin' even if she's busy with other stuff. (And I've had a mention or two over there a while ago.)
Well, I guess someone over there is still readin' this blog, 'cause over the past few days I've noticed some stuff. First there was this:
…which is real close to the same headline I used two days earlier here.
Okay, coincidence.
Then came the NPR reporter Rachel Buchman reference--two days after I talked about it here.
Hmmm…
And finally, K-Lo (the Alpha female of The Corner) mention the story about those Demo-cat fe-lyin's needin help down in Boca Raton that I linked to a month ago here.
What to say? Or, rather, what to say without seemin' like an egotistical little snot.
[You are an egotistical little snot.--AHM]
[Yeah? So what's your point?--Harrison]
Okay, here's what I'm sayin'. Someone, somewhere at The Corner is a closet reader. Ya' know the kind--they're hooked on The Real Gilligan's Island but will never, ever, ever admit it. I don't blame 'em, really--I mean, who wants to say out loud they read a bloggin' dog?
But just to prove I'm not as much of an egotistical little snot as you imagine--
[I can imagine quite a lot--AHM]
[Stop stealin' lines.--Harrison]
…here's somethin' K-Lo wrote this morning:
Hrumph!
[End of egotistical little snot's snit fit.--AHM]
[I'm warnin' you, woman… I'm liftin' my leg…--Harrison]
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 3:17 PM
0 comments
Well, I guess someone over there is still readin' this blog, 'cause over the past few days I've noticed some stuff. First there was this:
"THE RESTAURANT FOR THE PAJAMAHEDEEN [KJL] opens in Philadelphia. Too bad PJ Bloggin' and co. can't leave their homes."
…which is real close to the same headline I used two days earlier here.
Okay, coincidence.
Then came the NPR reporter Rachel Buchman reference--two days after I talked about it here.
Hmmm…
And finally, K-Lo (the Alpha female of The Corner) mention the story about those Demo-cat fe-lyin's needin help down in Boca Raton that I linked to a month ago here.
What to say? Or, rather, what to say without seemin' like an egotistical little snot.
[You are an egotistical little snot.--AHM]
[Yeah? So what's your point?--Harrison]
Okay, here's what I'm sayin'. Someone, somewhere at The Corner is a closet reader. Ya' know the kind--they're hooked on The Real Gilligan's Island but will never, ever, ever admit it. I don't blame 'em, really--I mean, who wants to say out loud they read a bloggin' dog?
But just to prove I'm not as much of an egotistical little snot as you imagine--
[I can imagine quite a lot--AHM]
[Stop stealin' lines.--Harrison]
…here's somethin' K-Lo wrote this morning:
"If I or someone else in The Corner doesn't credit a blog for some story or another a particular blog linked to first, it's probably because I/whoever didn't get the link from that blog, directly--some reader passed it on, a co-worker or friend imed it to me, etc.... There are so many blogs out there, if we don't talk about you that doesn't mean we're dissing you, it might just mean we're not seeing you. Feel free to e-mail (which is no guarantee, but a start), as some of your blogging colleagues do already."
Hrumph!
[End of egotistical little snot's snit fit.--AHM]
[I'm warnin' you, woman… I'm liftin' my leg…--Harrison]
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 3:17 PM
0 comments
Sunday, December 05, 2004
Bloggin' is Supposed to be Fun
At least I thought so. But I'm not one of those serious sites full of high faultin' phraseology and $1,000 words. Not that I can't be serious and look at things from a different angle. (Don't have a choice, really, since I'm only 12" high. Talk about seein' the dirty underside…)
Apparently some people (like the Daily Kos) are usin' this 2004 Weblog Awards votin' as a way to get back at conservatives in particular and Bush supporters in general. Guess they're still mad about how a certain pack of bloggers hunted down their pet Dan Rather and the bogus memos story. NRO's The Corner mentioned it this morning and I think the votin' rules have been changed by now.
I didn't make the final cut, but hey, there was no category for the best animal blog. 'Course after lookin' around at some of the other dog/cat/bird/hamster blogs I can sorta' see why it wasn't included. I got a couple of good ones listed in my blogroll--like Hollywood Dog (who isn't returnin' my calls) and Wonderdog Cal. But people are takin' their elimination waaayyy too seriously and bitchin' up a storm.
Geeze. Talk about out of touch with reality! Deal with it people.
All that bein' said (shameless plug ahead)… Don't forget to vote for the Homespun Bloggers and all the separate members who've been nominated.
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posted by Harrison at 1:34 PM
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Apparently some people (like the Daily Kos) are usin' this 2004 Weblog Awards votin' as a way to get back at conservatives in particular and Bush supporters in general. Guess they're still mad about how a certain pack of bloggers hunted down their pet Dan Rather and the bogus memos story. NRO's The Corner mentioned it this morning and I think the votin' rules have been changed by now.
I didn't make the final cut, but hey, there was no category for the best animal blog. 'Course after lookin' around at some of the other dog/cat/bird/hamster blogs I can sorta' see why it wasn't included. I got a couple of good ones listed in my blogroll--like Hollywood Dog (who isn't returnin' my calls) and Wonderdog Cal. But people are takin' their elimination waaayyy too seriously and bitchin' up a storm.
Geeze. Talk about out of touch with reality! Deal with it people.
All that bein' said (shameless plug ahead)… Don't forget to vote for the Homespun Bloggers and all the separate members who've been nominated.
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posted by Harrison at 1:34 PM
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Friday, December 03, 2004
Why We Fight
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
The Omega Human Threat
Wow! Finally a Homespun Bloggers question I can answer! Sort of…
Okay. I think our greatest long-term threat are all those
Schrodiner Demo-cats. Ya' know who I'm talkin' about--those Blue State people who think the Red Staters are livin' in some alternate universe and they're the only "reality based community." (AHM and me are makin' a list--checkin' it twice--and thinkin' about puttin' that list of 'em in the sidebar just so we can keep track.)
Now these Omega humans wanna' spend the next four (eight? twelve?) years changin' the "moral argument" into free food, drugs, and sex (rock 'n roll optional) for all, until the whole country's a pack of limp-pawed utopians with everyone lazin' around like fat fe-lyings who've od-ed on catnip.
Dangerous stuff. We gotta' make sure that change never happens! It'll be tough diggin', though, 'cause there'll be lots of fe-lyings hissin' and spittin' in our faces: [Login: be82096@coolgoose.com PW: 2003md]
That's no old hippie sayin' that stuff. That's some blue-state media babe pup gettin' paid with our tax dollars. (Actually AHM's tax dollars, but ya' get the idea.)
Used to be ya' had to do some sorta' work to get your LiverSnaps®, and that work was important even if it was only sweepin' streets. Now these kitty-litter clumps are tryin' to change our "morals," sayin' workers are greedy sinners and it's their moral obligation to make sure all those sainted lazy slackers are rollin' in free Fancy Feast®.
I know ya'll might not think it, but I know somethin' about sin and what that guy Jesus said about people bein' poor. AHM has her friends over sometimes to talk about the Bible and natually we all listen. The other day they were talkin' about this moral business of free money for poor people and readin' the story about how some lady poured expensive oil over Jesus' feet. 'Course someone (maybe a bunch) in his circle of friends had to complain about it, sayin' it was a waste and the money should be spent buyin' food and stuff for the poor. [John 12:3-8]
Well, this Jesus told 'em to back off and stop fussin' 'cause the poor were always gonna' be around but he wasn't. What makes the whole story interestin' is who that Bible writer said did the most complainin'--Judas--the guy getting' pay-offs from the religious bigwigs to turn in Jesus.
Doesn't that just figure. The guy tryin' to make givin' money to the poor a "moral imperative" was the same guy takin' bribes.
Some of you human types never change.
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posted by Harrison at 1:44 PM
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"What, in your mind, represents the single greatest long-term threat to the United States of America, and what should be done about it?"
Okay. I think our greatest long-term threat are all those
Schrodiner Demo-cats. Ya' know who I'm talkin' about--those Blue State people who think the Red Staters are livin' in some alternate universe and they're the only "reality based community." (AHM and me are makin' a list--checkin' it twice--and thinkin' about puttin' that list of 'em in the sidebar just so we can keep track.)
Now these Omega humans wanna' spend the next four (eight? twelve?) years changin' the "moral argument" into free food, drugs, and sex (rock 'n roll optional) for all, until the whole country's a pack of limp-pawed utopians with everyone lazin' around like fat fe-lyings who've od-ed on catnip.
Dangerous stuff. We gotta' make sure that change never happens! It'll be tough diggin', though, 'cause there'll be lots of fe-lyings hissin' and spittin' in our faces: [Login: be82096@coolgoose.com PW: 2003md]
"A voice-mail message left last week at the Virginia office of Laptoplobbyist.com, a conservative Internet site, went like this:
"Hi, my name is Rachel, and my telephone number is... I wanted to tell you that you're evil, horrible people. You're awful people. You represent horrible ideas. God hates you and he wants to kill your children. You should all burn in hell. Bye."
"Rachel is Rachel Buchman, 25, a regular reader of Laptoplobbyist's e-mail newsletter - and a reporter with public radio station WHYY-FM (90.9) for about three years. And she left her office number at WHYY in the message last Tuesday."
That's no old hippie sayin' that stuff. That's some blue-state media babe pup gettin' paid with our tax dollars. (Actually AHM's tax dollars, but ya' get the idea.)
Used to be ya' had to do some sorta' work to get your LiverSnaps®, and that work was important even if it was only sweepin' streets. Now these kitty-litter clumps are tryin' to change our "morals," sayin' workers are greedy sinners and it's their moral obligation to make sure all those sainted lazy slackers are rollin' in free Fancy Feast®.
I know ya'll might not think it, but I know somethin' about sin and what that guy Jesus said about people bein' poor. AHM has her friends over sometimes to talk about the Bible and natually we all listen. The other day they were talkin' about this moral business of free money for poor people and readin' the story about how some lady poured expensive oil over Jesus' feet. 'Course someone (maybe a bunch) in his circle of friends had to complain about it, sayin' it was a waste and the money should be spent buyin' food and stuff for the poor. [John 12:3-8]
Well, this Jesus told 'em to back off and stop fussin' 'cause the poor were always gonna' be around but he wasn't. What makes the whole story interestin' is who that Bible writer said did the most complainin'--Judas--the guy getting' pay-offs from the religious bigwigs to turn in Jesus.
Doesn't that just figure. The guy tryin' to make givin' money to the poor a "moral imperative" was the same guy takin' bribes.
Some of you human types never change.
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 1:44 PM
0 comments