Kibbles 'n Bits®
"Needies are interactive plush dolls inspired by codependent, high-maintenance relationships. Totally attention-starved, they compete with each other for human affection -- or, getting touch, as they like to say. When you give Needies touch (by hugging and squeezing them), they will return your kindness with songs and shameless flattery."
Or votes, as the case may be.
"But remember that Needies always know when other Needies are getting touch! If one Needie is getting touch while others are neglected, the unloved Needies will conspire to take its place."
Keep that money comin', honey, or I'm off to the highest bidder. Ya' know, those things look like the world's biggest stuffed chew toys. Lemme at 'em!
But if your elected official refuses to vote in your favor, well, there's always The Rodenator
"It has come out of the United States, where the underground gas exploder has been used to kill gophers, prairie dogs, squirrels, rats and even coyotes."
Wonder if anyone's thought of usin' it to get Ted Kennedy out of his hole?
"Now it is being put to use in New Zealand on rabbits… "It's a device that injects a calibrated mixture of propane, liquid petroleum gas and oxygen, mixed together, down through the rabbit's burrow and it's ignited to produce a massive underground concussion bomb," Mr Meyer said…
"The guys here just love it. They want to see the rabbits flying out of the hole but unfortunately everything stays in the ground, but it is very well accepted here."
Oh yeah… Work on that 'rabbits flyin' out of the hole' feature a bit more, and you got a keeper.
On the other paw… This is udderly ridiculous.
"[Florence Lukas] a French artist has designed lingerie for cows.
What is it with these Euro trash designers--Frenchies, Austrians, Bavarians? First dogs, then chickens, now brown cows.
"However, the cow bras have a serious purpose. They offer support for the cow's udders, which can weigh more than 100 pounds when filled with milk."
Anyone told Anna Nicole Smith 'bout that?
"The colorful lingerie was designed with the same type of lace often found in lingerie for women."
That's not an image I want rattlin' around behind my eyeballs…
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 10:57 PM
Attention Alpha Human Mom
'Course now I know why you always make funny sounds in bed…
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 6:24 PM
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
R.I.P. Grumpy Fat Cat
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 11:10 PM
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
And the Dead Shall Rise Up
In honor of George Romero's newest flick, science proudly presents
Night of the Living Dead Canines
"Scientists have created eerie zombie dogs, reanimating the canines after several hours of clinical death in attempts to develop suspended animation for humans.
US scientists have succeeded in reviving the dogs after three hours of clinical death, paving the way for trials on humans within years.
"Pittsburgh's Safar Centre for Resuscitation Research has developed a technique in which subject's veins are drained of blood and filled with an ice-cold salt solution.
Why am I not surprised it happened in Pittsburgh…site of the very first, original, Romero zombie movie. Actually, why am I not surprised Pittsburgh has a Centre for Resuscitation Research? Talk about a city that needs to come back from the dead…
'Course Dr. Safar is dead, so how good can his plan be?
"The animals are considered scientifically dead, as they stop breathing and have no heartbeat or brain activity. But three hours later, their blood is replaced and the zombie dogs are brought back to life with an electric shock."
It's alive! It's ALIVE!!
"Duing the procedure blood is replaced with saline solution at a few degrees above zero… Although the animals are clinically dead, their tissues and organs are perfectly preserved… Damaged blood vessels and tissues can then be repaired via surgery. The dogs are brought back to life by returning the blood to their bodies, giving them 100 per cent oxygen and applying electric shocks to restart their hearts. Tests show they are perfectly normal, with no brain damage."
"Plans to test the technique on humans should be realised within a year, according to the Safar Centre…"
Pagin' Dr. Frankenstein…
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 7:40 PM
Monday, June 27, 2005
Maury was visitin' this past weekend and AHM went out to shove the lawn mower around the yard, so naturally I thought I'd have another entry in my Lawn and Garden Advice series.
Ya' know what? Nothin' happened. Ziltch. Zero, zip, nada. What a bore. So now I've gotta' find somethin' else to write about flowers 'n growin' stuff.
Well, wha'd'ya' know.
"Cannabiscuits for mutts.
"Pampered pooches will soon be salivating for a new doggie treat: an upmarket biscuit made from cannabis seed. Tasmanian entrepreneur Ian Rochfort, who has been granted the first licence to use cannabis seed in a food product, will market the Scooby snacks nationally and for export as Hemp Hound Hors d'oeuvres."
That little devil.
"But dog owners should not expect their pets to develop a fondness for Bob Dylan."
The licence issued to Mr Rochfort includes a strict testing regime to ensure the biscuits contain no more than 50mg per kilogram of tetrahydrocannabinols (THC). So basically, there is no chance your dog will be hallucinating rainbow cats," Mr Rochfort said."
Done that already, thanks. Can't catch the damn fe-lyings anyway, so it's pretty much a useless trip.
"The product must also carry "not for human consumption" warnings on the label."
Okay, raise your paw if you're gonna' pay attention to that?
Wonder if our Supreme Court judges will try to take a bite out of this "drug crime?"
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 6:26 PM
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Kibbles 'n Bits®
And speaking of cats… why?
Ferdy reminded me in a comment below that squirrels can be very dangerous. He's right. Especially if they're evil attack squirrels of death! (Yes, another oldie but goodie and still makin' me laugh.)
"Picture the scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork.
"Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing one leather glove, moving at probably 80mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.
"I heard screams. They weren't mine..."
This writes itself… Ewe're the Devil in Disquise. (Sorry Elvis.)
"A cobbler suspected of sorcery was attacked and nearly lynched by outraged villagers in central Kenya…after being caught having sex with a female sheep, witnesses and officials said…
"I was sent by the devil to do that," [Joshua] Kiplagat told the angry crowd which included several people who accused him of being a warlock and one disgusted woman who claimed to have seen him engaging in sex acts with a dog…
"[He] insisted that his affection for animals was limited to sheep. "I only made love to the ewe twice using two condoms but I never do it regularly," he said in his defence."
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 7:57 PM
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Terrible Towel Waves at Half Staff
"Myron Cope, whose screechy-voiced antics and towel-waving enthusiasm became nationally known during the Pittsburgh Steelers' string of Super Bowl championships in the 1970s, is retiring after 35 years as a team announcer…"
Can’t say I ever knew the guy, but AHM used to listen to the games back when it was still legal to broadcast them over the internet. In fact, she claims she's been listenin' to him almost from the beginning, when she was just a pup back in Pittburgh of the 1970's.
"While football announcers don't often match the popularity of baseball announcers, who work 10 times as many games each year, Cope became Pittsburgh's best-known sports broadcaster and commercial pitchman in the mid-1970s and has remained so to this day.
"His quick wit and quirky phrases, including "Yoi!" - his version of "Wow!" - added to his popularity, as did his 1976 invention of the Terrible Towel. The bright yellow good-luck charm is still twirled by the thousands at Steelers games and has generated millions of dollars in revenue, much of which went to charity."
Weird, weird voice--and that "Yoi!" of his… For some reason that drove LG nuts--which, in all fairness, wasn't hard to do. Whenever Cope yelled that word, she'd jump up and run around the room. Go figure.
"Team owner Dan Rooney said the towel-twirling stoked the fans' abundant enthusiasm and created an intimidating atmosphere for opposing teams such as the Cleve Brownies - Cope's nickname for the rival Cleveland Browns. "You were really part of it," said Rooney, who talked to Cope via a speaker phone while vacationing in Ireland. "You were part of the team. The Terrible Towel many times got us over the goal line."…
AHM has one of the originals--not the flimsy shreds they sell these days, but an honest-to-god real towel. Probably the only towel in the house she hasn't used on us after a bath.
[That would be a sacrilege!--AHM]
[Well, wha'da'ya' call baths?!--Harrison]
"Cope's biggest regret is not being on the air during Harris' famed Immaculate Reception in a 1972 Steelers victory over Oakland - the first postseason win in franchise history. Cope was on the field for his postgame show when Harris, on what seemingly was the last play of the Steelers' season, grabbed the soaring rebound of a tipped Terry Bradshaw pass and scored a game-winning 60-yard touchdown. The wildly improbable play is often called the greatest in NFL history.
"He ran straight to me in the corner, and I'm yelling, `C'mon Franco, c'mon on!," said Cope, who, acting on a fan's advice, tagged the play "The Immaculate Reception" during a postgame TV commentary that night."
And people are still arguin' about it. At the time, rumors were flyin' that the refs got together, took a serious gander at a stadium filled with foamin'-at- the-mouth, soaked-in-Iron-City-Beer®, never-won-a-playoff-game-ever Steeler fans, then counted up how much life insurance they had and ruled it a touchdown.
That's John Madden's story, anyway, and he's stickin' to it!
Good luck Myron.
Press conference transcript here.
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 8:10 PM
Monday, June 20, 2005
If a Squirrel Falls in the Forest…
"Joanne Korba was driving through [Califon, NJ] just minutes after dropping her 13-year-old daughter at school.
"And then it happened.
"I was turning onto Main Street and I heard this big crash," she said… "I turned around to see who threw it," she recalled… There were no vandals in sight and the borough street was quiet. Korba's gaze shifted downward to her back seat, where the source of the mysterious "crash" lay temporarily stunned from a fall from great heights.
"It was a squirrel.
"My sunroof was open," she said. "It must have fallen from a wire."
We had one of those tightrope-walkin' squirrels, 'cept he was doin' it on purpose. One nice afternoon we heard a regular whump-thump comin' from the back yard. After it went on like forever, AHM finally went out to see what was goin' on. There was the squirrel, teeterin' his way across the cable wire. Just as he got halfway across, he let go--and landed on the convertible top of AHM's car, bouncin' around like it was a trampoline. 'Course we all figured the little twit had serious inner-ear issues. Then we saw him leap off the car, scurry up a nearby tree, hop onto the garage roof, and back on the wire--to do it all over again. Whoa!
We watched the show two more times. Then, when the Rocky-wanna' be was just lettin' go for a third bounce, AHM opened the pen and let us loose.
Never had a squirrel try usin' the convertible as a trampoline again.
"Then [Joanne] Korba thought for a moment. "What do you do when a squirrel falls in your car," she recalled saying to herself since this was her first encounter with a wild animal in her vehicle. Her thoughts quickly led to an idea.
"I pulled the car over and got out," she said.
"Borough police Chief Jeff Ollerenshaw said Korba was screaming as she stood on the Main Street sidewalk. Korba denied that characterization and said she was merely wringing her hands and wondering what to do next."
Wonderin' what to do next? Lady, it was only a friggin' squirrel! Ya' don't abandon your car and have hysterics on Main Street. If ya' gotta' scream, open all the doors and scream at the squirrel. If the little bugger doesn't get the message, open your trunk, get out the tire iron, and chip shot his furry ass into the next borough. Geeze Louise. If this is an example of how the citizenry would behave if we were invaded, we are in deep rodent do-do.
Then again, the liberal northeast seems overrun with urban chickens.
"(Eddie) Arfe is a prosperous attorney who lives in the East River co-ops and is mild mannered, reasonable, even affectionate about most areas of life, save one: Mr. Arfe loses his good humor when it comes to squirrels.
“I went to put some garbage in the trash receptacles in the park,” Eddie Arfe recalls his evening of terror, “when all of a sudden something hit me in the chest and bounced off. That was a squirrel. Needless to say, it was quite frightening.”
"In previous generations, squirrels used to be intimidated” by the presence of people, says Arfe. “If you fed them they came up, but otherwise they ran away from you. Apparently we’re cultivating a breed of squirrels that are not frightened of humans.”
No, you've cultivated a squirrel welfare state with free handouts, idiot, and now you're payin' the price, just like those bleedin' hearts in Russia.
"[O]n a recent Saturday afternoon a squirrel ran into a local synagogue during a talk by the rabbi, and caused considerable panic."
Why does that last sentence make me think of a Gene Wilder movie?
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 11:32 PM
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Crouching Seagull, Hail of Crap
Evidently the terror doesn't stop with eagles. Now seagulls are waging their own special form of jihad against us.
"The sky above the Washington Square Shopping Center [in Sheboygan, WI] comes alive with a swarm of ravenous seagulls, searching for shiny victims in the parking lot. “I went out there, and it was like a thing from ‘The Birds,’” Ald. Marge Segalle said, referring to the Alfred Hitchcock film.
"The city’s Public Protection and Safety Committee asked City Attorney Steve McLean on Tuesday night to draft an ordinance forbidding the feeding of seagulls around the shopping center near Washington Avenue and South Business Drive.
Is it just me or does that "Public Protection and Safety Committee" business sound like somethin' out of George Orwell?
"Area business owners complained that hundreds of seagulls are nesting in a vacant lot behind Piggly Wiggly and are terrorizing customers and cars alike with hails of feces."
Terror Stalks the Piggly Wiggly. A twisted tale of customers haunted by unspeakable feculent horrors.
"The situation is made worse when people feed the birds, they say."
What goes in, must come out. Thought you humans understood that by now.
“People have been coming over there with 5-gallon pails, feeding the birds,” said Bob Wiegand… Wiegand said the poop problem is quickly becoming a health concern. “I don’t want to see somebody get sick over this,” [he] said.
"Jeff Schukow of Great Lakes Area Pest Control and Surveillance attempted to scare the birds away using a radio-controlled plastic peregrine falcon, but Schukow said he backed off once he realized the birds were nesting in the area.
Yeah--the gulls were probably in danger of fallin' out of their nests laughin'!
"Permanently removing the seagulls could be tricky, Ald. Jeff Radtke said. They are a protected species and permits are needed to physically force them out. But if the city eliminates the food source, Radtke said, the birds may not be as connected to the area.
Law of Unintended Consequences meet the Law of Whacko Envionmentalism.
I suggest they talk to these guys about handlin' the seagull problem.
"Wildlife managers plan to kill a number of sea gulls on the south island of the Hampton Roads [VA] Bridge-Tunnel in an effort to reduce traffic and safety problems associated with the increasing bird population there…
"Thousands of herring gulls, laughing gulls and black-backed gulls have taken up residence on the tunnel island, where they prey upon a smaller and more fragile population of common terns and black skimmers, which are moving away in droves from the threat…"
When protected species collide--film at 11. It's called the Law of the Wild or Survival of the Fittest, jackass. Didn't you guys ever read your Darwin?
"VDOT has reported frantic birds hitting windshields, startling drivers and raising the risk of accidents. Baby gulls like to roost near the tunnel entrance and can fall into traffic lanes, causing motorists to swerve."
Swevin' in a tunnel is Not a Good Thing--mainly 'cause there's no place to swerve to--'cept into another car or a concrete wall
"Transportation officials called the plan to kill many of the larger gulls a last-ditch effort after years of less-aggressive campaigns."
Guess bein' nice and sayin' 'pretty please' doesn't cut it. Hope Sickie Dickie Durbin is payin' attention. Ya' can't coddle the enemy and expect to win the war.
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 9:09 AM
Saturday, June 18, 2005
When Avians Attack
Now we occasionally have birds flyin' into the house, but AHM has some sort of human-avian treaty that lets her usher them back out again without creatin' a cross-species incident. Sad to say, however, Warren seems to have uncovered a deeper plot that the rest of us have ignored.
Even more serious, apparently our national symbol has been buyin' into the Demo-cat's hate-America-first rhetoric and taken to attackin' the homes of innocent citizens.
"A bald eagle crashed through a window of a home and landed in the living room, scattering broken glass, feathers and a salmon carcass across the floor. Homeowner Jean Stack heard the crash and initially wondered if someone had thrown a dead fish through the window."
"I stopped in my tracks and thought, 'Oh my gosh," she said. But then she heard her neighbor, Kurt Haskin, yelling. He saw the whole thing from his deck… [An] eagle swooped out of the nearby tree, up past Haskin's head, around the eagle on the roof and back behind the tree, said Haskin. "I didn't notice it was packing a fish when it swooped over me," he said."
A piscus-packin' eagle is nothin' to mess with.
"The eagle re-emerged and bore down on Stack's bay window, which is about 15 feet off the ground. "It just grenaded that window," Haskin said. "The window didn't even slow it down."
I expect al-Birdzeera will be showin' this footage--er--wingage--on their headline news…right after Sen. Durbin's speech.
"But the jolt apparently shook the fish and some feathers free. A moment later, the eagle popped out the hole where the window had been. "It was only about four or five seconds, then it must have gathered its wits and flew back out of there," Haskin said.
Where's Homeland Security when you need 'em? Here we have bald eagles (and now we know why that particular eagle was bald) doin' bombin' runs on American homes, and they don't lift a finger to help.
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 11:23 AM
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Cat's Fax Hax, Cops' Axe Whax
"It seems Tabby the cat had rung the 111 emergency number while taking a stroll across a telephone attached to a fax machine in the house. The family living in the house were out at the time.
"Concerned police smashed in the front door after getting no response from inside the house and were surprised to find the feline rather than a felon."
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 9:12 PM
"Arrington tried thumb chest compressions, but sadly, this squirrel’s nut-munching days were over. Which makes me ask: Where is a squirrel defibrillator when you need one?
"When I have such questions, I go to John Johnson, a Henderson County Sheriff’s Department deputy and canine officer who conducts — swear to God — pet CPR classes through the American Red Cross."
Hmmm… Boyle shoulda' talked to Sen. John Kerry. He's the reignin' expert on rodent mouth-to-mouth, isn't he?
"He’s heard of CPR attempts on a lot of different animals, but never a squirrel. Because of their size, he says, a car strike is nearly always fatal. It’s not impossible, though… “You could try it, I guess,” Johnson said. “It would be a two-fingered technique. It would be one puff to two compressions.” He stressed that a very small puff of air and very light compressions would be adequate.
"And don’t engage in a lip lock for the breathing."
"He recommended going in prepared, preferably by cutting a small bottle so part of it would fit over a varmints nose and mouth. Then you would breathe in the other end.
Okay, who in their right mind would drive around prepared to scoop rodent debris off the highway for a little muzzel to mouth action?
"Now, some of you may be thinking Arrington must be off her rocker to attempt a squirrel revival, but she’s probably one of the sweetest people I’ve ever interviewed. The lady truly loves animals… In her car she carries boxes, rubber gloves and disinfectant so she can remove animal carcasses off the roads. Arrington handles the opossums by the tail and moves them to the side of the road, she notes."
Spoke too soon.
"Often she digs a proper grave for the roadkill that other drivers just keep squishing. “I bury them,” she said. “I don’t just thrown them out like some people do.” She drives slowly on the Parkway and has been known to stop traffic in both directions to save a groundhog."
Sounds like she's creatin' a hell of a menace out there on that parkway. Don't think I'd wanna' see some 70-year-old Earth Grandmother blockin' traffic just so she can scoop entrails off the asphalt.
“They’re God’s creations, too, you know,” Arrington said."
Well--either God's creations or proof Darwin had the right idea.
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 7:38 PM
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Pupkus* at 30,000 Feet
Ah, summertime. Memorable trips and lazy days. 'Course when you're an old dog with no more new tricks to learn, most days are lazy days, winter or summer.
Now that it's sunny and warm, you humans seem intent on crammin' yourselves into cars, which get crammed onto a freeway, to reach a place crammed with people--just so you can say you're "gettin' away from it all." Why the object of all this effort is covered with sand and shriekin' kids, on the edge of somethin' big, wet, salty and unpredictable is a total mystery to me.
I was discussin' this with Darwin and Everton while we were takin' our evenin' perambulation around the neighborhood. Their dad had gone sailin' for the weekend and, seein' as they're the equivalent of three medium size humans, there's no room for them in the boat. We terriers have an advantage in that area; if you can call it an advantage to be small enough to fit on somethin' that periodically sails away from solid ground to wallow around on the aforementioned big, wet, salty, unpredictable expanse of stuff.
One thing led to another and at some point I told 'em about my magical, mystery cross-country tour and the time I became a canine illegal alien in my own country--all thanks to the friendly skies. And all pre-9/11, of course, since it's a safe bet if AHM tried this stunt now, she'd be havin' her own magical mystery tour of a federal hoosgow.
See, when I was a teenager ('bout a year and a half old in dog time), AHM decided I should meet the grandparents--who just happened to live on the other side of the friggin' continent! So she bought 1) an under-the-seat carrier I was still small enough to fit in and 2) a pet-in-the-cabin ticket. We were set. 'Course I don't recall bein' consulted about all this, but I was young and dumb and went along with the plan, 'specially when she made a big fuss about me bein' the Only One in my Entire Family who will ever Do Something Like This. I'm very susceptible to bein' the Only One doin' anything.
Just before we arrived at the small CA airport, AHM popped me half of one of the happy, sleepy, dopey pills the doc gave her--only half 'cause she didn't know how loopy I'd get and didn't want me losin' control, if ya' know what I mean. So when I finally had to crawl into that little carrier, I was already on my private mystery tour, which started out kinda' loud, with a roarin' whine and one huge bump. I spent some time half-sleepin' and dreamin' I was chasin' a fe-lyin' who was floatin' in mid-air all the time. Gradually I woke up to the fact I had a crick in my neck and a cramp in my tail.
(Continued in Read the Rest!)
Now here's where all the bendin'-of-the-rules business starts. Pets are never supposed to be let out of their carriers--for obvious reasons. Personally I don't think fe-lyings should be let out of their carriers ever considerin' they're prone to do stuff like this, but that's another issue entirely.
After I did some thumpin' around, AHM opened the carrier and sneaked me out onto her lap. (The place wasn't full and she was the only one sittin' in the two-seat row across from the galley.) Bein' a dog, I immediately tried to shove my snout out the window. It wouldn't open. Damn. I pressed my nose harder against the glass and… Holy Dentabone® Batman! There was nothin' there.
I looked this way and that, smearin' pupkus up, down, and sideways on that window. Still nothin'! No road, no grass, no trees--no solid ground at all. Just lots of empty space and big mounds of gray-white stuff that looked vaguely like those dream fe-lyings I'd been chasin'. Aaaaarrrrhhh!
Needless to say I backed off reeeaal fast and hunkered down on the seat beside AHM. She covered me up with a blanket and pulled down her snack tray, proppin' her book on top until an attendant showed up with food. Now that was a plus, if ya' don't count the elbow to the ribs I got when I tried to sit up and tie on the ole' bib. I was stuck under the blanket--'cept for my muzzle--and AHM slipped me a bite when no one was lookin'. Don't think we fooled the attendants, though. They either thought AHM was the messiest eater in history or figured out she was shovin' food under that blanket for another reason.
We had to change planes in Texas so I got to stretch my legs and do other stuff dogs need to do--like kiss the ground. Since that airport seemed to expect passengers to run the marathon from arrival gate to departure-gate-as-far-from-arrival-gate- as-possible, AHM flagged down one of those golf cart baggage haulers and we zipped along in style.
Then I was back in the carrier and we were both back in that big white box…stuck on the tarmac. Apparently there was a traffic jam worthy of any LA freeway. Bein' conscientious, all the attendants promptly disappeared into first class to party with the snobs, leavin' us poor slobs on our own. Out of the carrier I came to get a good look around. Soon enough someone saw me and made a "cute doggie" crack. Bein' the magnanimous sort I overlooked it since it was party time and I was chairman of the entertainment committee.
Within minutes I was paradin' up the aisle, grinnin' and flirtin' and swaggerin'--all those things I'd already learned how to do in the show ring. (Think I even sat up once or twice but I'll deny it if you repeat that.) A captive audience of airline coach passengers bored out of their skulls is easily amused. In return I got a full quota of ooohhhs and ahhhhs and scratches and strokes. I was invited up on more than one lap to check out the view from the other windows (nothin' to see in the dark 'cept the lights from all the other planes stuck in line) and people started bribin' me to visit them with food. It didn't even matter they insisted on callin' me "Harry" as long as they kept dishin' up those peanuts and pretzels.
Naturally AHM put an end to the snackin' considerin' I was gonna' be stuck for the next couple of hours and ya' don't want anythin' comin' out of either end when you're 30,000 feet above the nearest hydrant. 'Course when those jet engines startin' revvin' up for take-off, I got passed back to AHM faster than a hot potato. Fortunately the attendants ignored the fur muff that appeared to be rollin' down the aisle.
The second leg of the trip was pretty much like the first--lots of time spent sleepin' under the blanket and burpin' up peanuts. We finally reached the east coast airport in the wee hours to find AHM's dad patiently waitin'. I knew immediately we'd be buds. No ooohhhin' and ahhhhin' for him. He just grabbed my leash and headed for the nearest door while AHM headed for baggage claim. Don't think I've ever been so glad to see a bush in my life--not to mention I'd been holdin' in the biggest fart in the history of dogdom. (Hey, even I figured out ya' don't wanna' do somethin' like that in an enclosed space with recycled air.)
While I was sniffin' and liftin', I suddenly heard "Hey, there's Harry! Hi Harry!" One after another my fellow escaped passengers came past. 'Course they all stopped and we did the "nice ta' have met ya', have a good vacation" routine. Granddad Human smiled and nodded like he knew what the hell was goin' on, then hustled me back to AHM. When we got there he gave her a real fe-lyin' stare and asked "What did you do on that airplane?"
The explanation took the whole drive back to the house.
The time with the Grand-p's was great--except for that fallin'-in-the-pool incident which I'm still tryin' to forget. Memo to AHM: it wasn't that funny. (And while we're on the subject, don't think I've forgotten about that little stickin' me on a freakin' raft in the middle of the water caper.)
Eventually, though, we were headed back in the other direction, with a planned stop to meet up/visit with one of AHM's friends in another state so they could finish the trip together. There was, however, just one little problem. On the final flight to CA there were already two pets in the cabin which was the limit. The airline honchos said I'd have to fly cargo. Ack!
That's when AHM came up with The Plan.
Now here's the part that will probably never, ever be duplicated in this post 9/11 world. (At least I hope not 'cause I hate to think what might result.)
AHM had an over-the-shoulder carry-on bag along with the carrier. Her friend had an over-the-shoulder carry-on bag. We all went through the metal detector check point (no they didn't run me through the x-ray scanner) and headed for the departure gate. When they made the announcement that people needin' help should get on board, the three of us found a secluded spot and AHM began emptyin' all the stuff in her bag into the carrier.
I went into the overnight bag with a lot of stern warnings to keep my big mouth shut.
With her friend holdin' the carrier, we lined up. The attendant checked the boardin' pass and waved AHM through. Her friend, however, got stopped and the carrier opened. Ah--good. No pet. The attendant laughed at the odd packin' arrangement then waved 'em through. Mission accomplished. When we finally touched down, I officially became a canine alien illegally smuggled into California.
And I'm still wonderin' how long it took the cleanin' crews to wipe the pupkus off all those windows.
*Pupkus (pup' kus) n. The moist residue left on a window after a dog presses its nose to it.
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 5:22 PM
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Darwin, Fax Your Office
"For Japanese with a fondness for animals but who are unable to raise pets because of their cramped homes or strict apartment rules, shops like these are a godsend."
Well, apparently there's a reeeeaaally good reason the smart ones were avoidin' cats.
"A house fire that occurred…in Nagata Ward, Kobe, was caused by cats urinating on a fax machine, the city's fire department said Thursday. According to the department, the thermal printer head of the machine was extensively burned, and members of the household told the department their nine cats often urinated on the machine."
Second, anybody wanna' explain why those sub-omega humans didn't stop the fe-lyings from lettin' fly on the fax? I'd suggest sendin' 'em a message about an invention called a litter box but…well…they obviously wouldn't get it.
"In an experiment using the same model machine, the department dripped a sample…of urine on the printer head's nine elements… The first droplet conducted the electrical current, and by the 15th, the machine produced a spark. An official of the National Research Institute of Fire and Disaster said, "Cat urine contains salt, and salt water conducts electricity well. This probably caused the fire."
No word on the condition of the fe-lyings, but…
Dug up at Dave Barry's Blog
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posted by Harrison at 11:58 AM
Lost Russian Nuts Alert
Unnecessary squirrel death reminder of our responsibility
"I am an animal lover. I am shocked at the speed of automobiles on the Blue Ridge Parkway and have reported same to the rangers.
"On a recent Sunday I saw a little squirrel halfway across the road. A driver approached and could have more than given the squirrel time to get out of danger, but no. He hit the little squirrel. I jumped out hoping he was only dazed. I picked him up, trying to breathe air into his nostrils — his heart was still beating — yet he died in my arms before I got home.
"This indifference must end — they are God’s creations. We are responsible for their welfare.
"Faye Arrington, Asheville (NC)"
Sad thing is, that Kerry-litter fan probably thinks the squirrel would return the favor if the other driver had swerved, lost control of his car, and ran over her. Earth to Faye… Newsflash… Life is not always an Aesop fable.
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posted by Harrison at 11:04 AM
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
(Sq)Girrels Gone Wild
"The residents of [Akademgorodok] have been keeping their windows tightly shut for the second week in a row due to insolent squirrels who sneak into kitchens and turn them upside down by knocking off spice containers, breadboxes and other kitchen utensils while searching for tidbits.
Gotta' say there's nothin' worse than a rodent with attitude.
"Specialists at the environmental club of the Novosibirsk State University confirm the alarming reports of local residents. They say that squirrels have been really guilty of "illegal entry and burglary" this year… The squirrels are forced to break into apartments due to a seasonal lack of food," says Elena Dubynina, an environmental expert."
Hold on just one kibble-crunchin' minute! "…forced to break into apartments…"? What, is there some mujahadeen rodent holdin' their families at d-Contm-point? Will the world end up watchin' their beloved offspring beheaded with a rusty mousetrap on al-Ratzeera if the squirrels don't cough up the ransom?
"She says the squirrels ran out of the their winter supplies and therefore have to look for something else to eat outside their usual habitat."
Thought someone wrote a fable about that--ant--grasshopper--somethin' like that? Has anyone looked into bussin' the little beasties to more upscale forests?
"According to [Dubynina], squirrels are smart and cunning creatures, they can easily adjust themselves to new conditions. The residents of that neighborhood have been treating them well for many years. So the squirrels got used to bits and pieces thrown to them at a regular basis.
Hmmmm… Free handouts create dependence. Who knew?
Besides, there has been a significant increase in the population of squirrels in that area since last year."
Yep--definitely smart and cunning. They figured out the have-more-babies- get-more-treats scam. Boy, we are exportin' all our best ideas overseas. Must be one of the unintended consequences of NAFTA.
"Looks like we will have to build a number of feeders for them, we will hang those feeders all over the area so that the squirrels can get their food every time they feel hungry," said Mrs. Dubynina."
Humans, on the other paw, have not figured out the "if you build it, they will come" business. Repeat after me: more feeders = more friggin' squirrels! Ya' already got 12,000--wha'd'ya' want--144,000?
"The squirrels went wild in Yakutia following a terrible summer drought in 2003."
Video now in final editing…
"Forest fires destroyed most of the forests in the…natural squirrel reserve of Yakutia. The squirrels could not get any food to store for the coming winter. The animals were aware of that desperate situation and began cracking up, according to environmentalists."
Wasn't this the sort of thing the Darwin guy talked about--survival of the fittest and all that? Seems to me those Yakutia squirrels coulda' moved if they had more than nuts for brains. Instead they cracked up--screamed and chittered, rioted and rampaged--maybe even looted a few stores for good measure. Got 'em what they wanted, though. Usually does.
"Finally, 10 tons of pine kernels were "allocated" for feeding squirrels and the problem was resolved."
Bleedin' heart liberalism runneth amuck...
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posted by Harrison at 11:26 PM
"[In] the [PETA] protest, [staged in front of the Statehouse, Providence, R.I.]…three people placed themselves in containers resembling supermarket meat trays…meant to compare eating meat with cannibalism."
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posted by Harrison at 7:48 PM
Monday, June 06, 2005
Okay, This is Just Wrong…
"Russian vet surgeons performed a unique operation on a male dog, augmenting the animal's nipples with silicon. The operation took place in one of Moscow's vet hospitals yesterday. The animal was severely injured in a fight, when one of the infuriated dogs bit its genitals through.
"Doctors said that they usually put such dogs down. "We will have to castrate the dog to save it from death," a surgeon said. The surgeons decided to make the unlucky dog their first extraordinary patient: "In addition to urethrostomy, we decided to make a vagina for the dog and use a little silicon for its nipples," the specialist added.
"The dog is currently resting after the operation. However, the animal will still have the behavior of a male dog afterwards. However, reduced male hormones will make the dog show a lot less interest in a female."
And in the "why don't you humans just play with each other and leave us alone," category:
"Altering a single gene in a fruit fly can turn its sexual orientation around, causing male flies to lose interest in females, and females to display male mating rituals to other females, according to a study [done by two researchers of the Austrian Academy of Sciences] published in the journal Cell on Friday."
Austria and Russia. Two formerly powerful world empires reduced to muckin' about with dog balls and fruit flies.
Then again… We're stuck with Howard Dean and Ted Kennedy.
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posted by Harrison at 7:30 PM
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Why the French Voted Non
"A range of fashion clothing for chickens has been launched by a group of designers working in Austria and Japan.
"Austrian Edgar Honetschlaeger said he decided to work with the Japanese on the project because he hoped to make the chicken label clothing essential. He said "It's something that you don't really need but everyone wants to have anyway."
"The idea has already taken off after the designers staged a fashion show that is now touring the world [with shows planned in Tokyo, Paris, Mexico City and Vienna]."
Oh yeah. Just what I wanna' see. A bunch of chickens struttin' 'n cluckin' to Mozart. Can you say dinnertime! And speakin' of a finger-lickin' payoff:
"[M]any advertisers have enquired about the possibility of having sponsored suits promoting everything from KFC to chicken soup."
Chicken couture. Ranks right up there with Bavarian dog duds.
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posted by Harrison at 1:31 PM
Saturday, June 04, 2005
We're always taught to treat other people's stuff nice--'specially chair and sofa legs--which is why we get invited so many places. But if an accident happens, no one has a total hissy fit, as in killin' people--or canines.
Anyway, after everyone else crashed from partyin', AHM and me went surfin' and dug up this tidbit over at Fark.
"The University Hospitals of Leicester NHS Trust, which runs the three main hospitals in the ethnically diverse city, said it is considering removing [Christian] Bibles from bedside lockers because they might offend patients of other religions.
"Additionally, it said, it is concerned the books could increase the risk of spreading the highly antibiotic-resistant infection MRSA in wards if they become contaminated with body fluids."
Uh huh. A religious book that can spread infectious diseases… You make the connection.
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posted by Harrison at 10:52 PM
"A bloody shooting spree in Toronto by a mentally ill and heavily armed man was averted by a stray dog the man took to, the Toronto Star reported Thursday."
I got suckered. 'Course so did the entire province of New Brunswick. And the whole pile of kitty litter is a pretty sad commentary on the state of the Canadian health care system.
"Toronto -- A New Brunswick man who told police that a friendly dog scuttled his plan for a bloody shooting rampage was sentenced yesterday to three years in prison after admitting it was all a ploy to get surgery in jail… Stanson, 44, who was found with firearms and ammunition in his car, told police he'd been planning a mass murder but changed his mind after meeting a friendly dog.
"He has since told court he invented the story because he wanted to be detained so he could receive heart surgery - surgery he got last November, while in custody."
Hmmmm. The criminal gets special treatment while hundreds of honest Canadians are still waitin' for their surgery. And this kinda' junk is what Hillary wants to give to us?
No wonder she wants felons allowed to vote.
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posted by Harrison at 1:36 PM
And you thought I wouldn't last… Yeah, well, maybe some of you hoped it wouldn't last, but I'm a terrier! Go look up the definition, fool. We're famous for grubbin' through underground burrows (like the DNC), grabbin' hold, and holdin' on. (Alright, alright--I don't do the grubbin' through underground burrows thing, but I got the grabbin' and holdin' part down pat.)
I started thinkin' about doin' some bloggin' when AHM read me Smarty Jones' blog. Hrumph! I figured if some spindly-legged, smart-ass horse was a blogger, well, I could be a blogger--and do it better. Or at least longer.
You can thank Jonah Goldberg of NRO's The Corner for creatin' the tag line that got me goin'. Or you can blame him if you want. Puts that whole "words have consequences" meme in perspective, doesn't it?
(If ya' wanna' know who else to blame ya' gotta' Read the Rest!)
Over the past year I've discovered that bein' a bloggin' dog has definite advantages. First, no one--but no one--drops a meme on you. I mean, who cares about the last CD I bought 'cause, well, I don't buy CDs--or books or DVDs, etc., etc. If you're interested, my favorite sounds are ragtime and blues--and the can opener.
Second, I can say whatever I want about anyone and anything--and I speak with authority, no matter what Glenn Reynolds says--'cause I'm a dog! 'Course bein' funny (okay, tryin' to be funny) works best when you're dealin' with true stuff. Convincin' AHM to write it down is another matter.
Third, my kids really are insufferably cute, cuddly, intelligent, and talented--and they have the blue rosettes to prove it.
Fourth, I'm not a bloggin' fe-lyin'.
Speakin' of fe-lyings… I really gotta' thank Meryl Yourish and Tig and Gracie for lettin' me pick on 'em all the time while still bein' so encouragin'. Tig, you still remind me of the infamous, late, unlamented Dandylion, but I'm copin'.
And then there's Ferdy, The Conservative Cat, who's almost as erudite as me--in spite of bein' a fe-lyin'. But Ferdy, ya' gotta stop actin' like a GOP Senator and start dealin' with that Talluah Interloper issue. Fluffed-out tails do not a leader make, unless you're Barney Frank. If you're gonna' take on lá Hillary, ya' might as well start practicin' on females of your own species.
Since I'm thankin' fe-lyings, I better mention some of the other dog bloggers out there--like Bacchus, doG of Whine and Wonderdog Cal (who has a list of picture-postin' dog blogs over there) and even Hollywood Dog (though bein' a typical Holly-whine sort, he's waaaayyyy out in left field). Oh, yeah--can't forget the Yorkie Blog (which isn't really written by a Yorkie, just a nice lady who lives with a bunch of my kissin' cousins) and all the borzoi's over at A Dog's Life. They don't write either--too busy swannin' around show rings, I guess.
Real special thanks to Tom at MuD&PhuD for lettin' me ride along with the Homespun Bloggers, and Teach of the Pirate's Cove for includin' me in the American Flag League. All those bloggers write Real Important Posts about Real Important Issues from the human side of things so go read 'em. Naturally I always see the underside of everything, but I think that's 'cause I'm only a foot tall.
'Course I'd be remiss if I didn't thank John Kerry and all the Demo-cats for providin' so much kibble for me to chew on.
I know I forgot a bunch of people--check my Blogroll--so everyone just consider yourselves thanked for readin' and linkin'. If I keep goin' I'll never have time to polish off my dog bones before the guests arrive.
[I got them for you and your guests.--AHM]
Huh? Ya' mean I gotta' share? Are you crazy woman?!
[You want to keep bloggin?--AHM]
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posted by Harrison at 12:47 AM