I always knew there was something just plain   wrong about fe-lyings. ('Course I don't   suppose you can expect much to be right   with this poor sod when you stick a hat on   'em, 'specially one with a pompom.) Well, I   was right and (not to steal a phrase, but I will)   here comes the science.

"Cats are notoriously finicky eaters, as millions of pet owners can attest. Now, there's a scientific theory explaining, at least in part, why cats have such snobby eating habits: genetics. "Researchers at the Monell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia and their collaborators said Sunday they found a dysfunctional feline gene…"

Only one?

"…that probably prevents cats from tasting sweets, a sensation nearly every other mammal on the planet experiences to varying degrees…"

I've been noticin' how you humans just love to blame every bit of uncontrolled and/or bad behavior on genetics. You're all programmed to lie, cheat, steal, or murder; get fat, get drunk, get drugged, or get laid. Now you're tryin' to explain ridiculous fe-lyin' behavior on dysfunctional gene. Pu-leeeese! The only dysfunctional gene involved is the one you humans have that can't see through the con game fe-lyings (okay, and some canines) are runnin'. Here's a piece of news for ya: when the finicky fe-lyings get hungry they'll eat anything! They'll even eat rats, for cryin' in a litter pan! How finicky is that?

"This may have implications for all sorts of medical conditions," said Dr. Alan Hirsch, founder of the Smell and Taste Treatment and Research Foundation in Chicago. Hirsch, who was not affiliated with the study, said that the study suggests obesity and related diseases such as diabetes are caused by more than simply overindulging a sweet tooth. "Even in the absence of the taste for sweets, cats still get heavy," Hirsch said.

Oh, yeeaaahhhh.

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posted by Harrison at 12:16 AM

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When AHM read me read that headline I was pissed. I mean why is "mad" associated with "barking?" Far as I'm concerned, it should be "meowin' mad." Hmmm… Yeah… It might be alliterative but it's totally wussy. Okay, how 'bout "yowlin' mad?" No good, eh?

Anyway, there's a bunch of explanations about where the expression began. My favorite is the one about a lunatic asylum bein' located in the London suburb of Barking about a gazillion years ago. They say that's not true, though. The first reference anyone could find was in a book Mr Jiggins of Jigginstown by some British Countess: “But he was mad! Barking mad!”

Not that you care, but I like to make sure my readers' brains are as stuffed full of trivia as AHM's. All that bein' said…

"A Macho mating ritual of squirrels could reach epic scale this year - spelling disaster for the trees of the Forest of Dean. Grey squirrels are tearing strips off trees to impress females, which then weakens the trees. Experts have warned the historic Dean is teetering on the edge of a tree crisis as a result of the aggressive hormonal behaviour…

"The Forest's wide range of trees, including oak, beech, chestnut, pine, fir and spruce, makes it particularly attractive to squirrels. They strip bark right round the trunk, which means the tree either dies, or if it is stripped on one side only, it weakens it until it snaps or allows fungus to set in."

…why can't they just hump a leg like the rest of us?

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posted by Harrison at 11:08 PM

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The coming avian war has already been brought to my attention, but now mice have apparently decided to enter the fray.

As expected, NRO's Warren Bell and Jonah Goldberg are on top of the story.

"Giant carnivorous mice on the British-ruled island of Gough in the south Atlantic are eating seabird chicks alive in mass feeding frenzies, threatening several species' survival, a wildlife charity warned.

"The house mice, while three times the size of those seen in mainland Britain, are still only one 250th the size of the chicks they attack, the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) said Monday…"

House mice? I wanna' see the size of that house!

"We think there are about 700,000 mice which have somehow learned to eat chicks live, much like blue tits learned to peck milk bottle tops," [Geoff Hilton, a senior research biologist at the RSPB] said.

"The albatross chicks weigh up to ten kilograms (22 pounds), and ironically albatrosses evolved to nest on Gough because it had no mammal predators -- that is why they are so vulnerable," he said. "The mice weigh just 35 grams (1.235 ounces). It is like a tabby cat attacking a hippopotamus."

"In a pattern only ever seen on Gough Island, one mouse attacks a chick and the resultant blood appears to attract others, who gnaw into the defenceless chick's body, creating a gaping wound until it dies."

Callin' Michael Jackson...

The anti-avian Mr. Bell puts it in perspective. "For now, let the mice do their thing, and be glad we have an ally."

Yeah… They'll get their own in due time--700,000 giant mice all wearin' albatross necklaces.

'Course there is an alternative. Jihad fe-lyings. Slip 'em onto the island as illegal immigrants, strap 'em into little bomb belts, and let 'em go. Kill two birds with one stone. Er…well… Ya' get the idea.

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posted by Harrison at 10:09 PM

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I guess if your owner has already taken away everything else, all you've got left is the urge--to haiku.

"Alas, poor Seymour!
You knew them well! Fellows of
Excellent fancy!"
--Laura--

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posted by Harrison at 4:09 PM

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..and catchin' up on stuff…

Hunting the real "Hound."

"A leading pathologist is part of a distinguished team which is hoping to exhume the body of a Westcountry man who they claim could be the real author of the classic Sherlock Holmes story The Hound of the Baskervilles.

"The team, led by Paignton-based author Rodger Garrick-Steele and scientist Paul Spiring [who works for the European Civil Service at the European School of Karlsruhe in Germany], believe the exhumation of Ipplepen-journalist Bertram Fletcher Robinson could raise the cultural profile of the South Devon village.

"Mr Garrick-Steele claims that Conan Doyle used the plot for the classic Dartmoor tale without acknowledging the contribution of Fletcher Robinson before poisoning him [in 1907] to prevent being exposed."

Well, if anyone would know how to murder and get away with it, it would be Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. 'Course the guy bought into that Yorkshire fairies hoax, so ya' never know…


Wanna' know how really out of touch the Washington Post is? I wrote about this, dated July 19, 2005, a week before they did! And just to prove we little guys are better at sniffin' out and uncoverin' the important things, check out this photo posted on the Fark Forums by StrikitRich. (Possibly NSFW.)


PSA

"The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
"It isn't just one of your holiday games;
"You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
"When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES."
Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats by T.S. Elliot

And they probably want 'em all hyphenated, too. So if ya' need some help with those elitist fe-lyings, go here.


Memo to self--avoid three foot roosters.

"A 3ft rooster fought off a fox after it broke into his coop. Rooster Cogburn made sure the fox did not come near his hens reports the Daily Express.

"Owner Tim Stone from Shepton Mallet, Somerset said: "I was asleep when I heard a huge commotion. I went outside to see what it was all about and saw fur and feathers everywhere. There was a yelp and I saw the fox limping off. The rooster was strutting around like a boxer after a fight and crowing like mad."

Think the Avian Army just found its Patton.


Finally, one more reason why AHM no longer teaches school in CA--or even lives there--Ratibu Jacocks.

"[Mary] Texeira suggested that including Ebonics in the program would be beneficial for students. Ebonics, a dialect of American English that is spoken by many blacks throughout the country, was recognized as a separate language in 1996 by the Oakland school board.

"Ebonics is a different language, it's not slang as many believe,' Texeira said. "For many of these students Ebonics is their language, and it should be considered a foreign language. These students should be taught like other students who speak a foreign language.'…"

Yeah, yeah. But they expect us to learn English, don't they? Last time I checked they weren't includin' caninese in Obedience Schools.

"Ratibu Jacocks, a member of the Westside Action Group, a coalition of black activists, said they are working with the district to ensure the policy is implemented appropriately. "This isn't a feel-good policy. This is the real thing,' Jacocks said."

Ratibu. There's a Demo-cat fe-lyin' name if I ever heard one. Think his parents visited the wrong web site when were decidin' on baby names? Gotta' say, if my family's last name was Jacocks and they named me Ratibu I'd probably turn into an activist too--or worse.

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posted by Harrison at 9:21 PM

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Over the years I've come to realize you humans do not relate well to things that buzz, flit, slither, or hop. We canines deal with that stuff every hour so we're what you might call pragmatic. AHM even has a workin' truce with spiders, as long as they stay in their corner and deal with the mosiquitoes. 'Course when they get out of line--as spiders will do eventually--they are met with the Vacuum Hose of Death. Once AHM put the little brushy thing on the end of of it and tried to create a canine Flowbe of Death. She was disabused of that notion the second it tried to Flowbe a pair of somethings it shouldn't.

But I digress…

Ever notice how when it rains the tree toads throw a hoe-down? I mean, d'ya' hear 'em much when it's a dry evenin'? Let the first little bit of rain hit, 'tho, and they're out there doin' their version of Hee Haw. And they're not shy about passin' around the ole' corn likker jug either.

The other night one figured he'd hop on inside and invite us to join 'em. AHM rounded him up and sent him back to his pickin' 'n grinnin' buddies, but damned if he didn't show up again five minutes later. I checked him out just to see if he was wearin' a little lampshade on his head 'cause ya' wouldn't think a toad would wanna' visit a house full of dogs. Guess he was serious, though, 'cause no sooner did AHM send him on his way than he hopped right back in. She had to slog all the way to the back of the yard to set him free. Think she set him up with a cute little toadette 'cause we haven't seen him since.

Some people just aren't as understandin' about toads.

The other day I rode along when AHM dropped by to visit an older lady friend--I'll call her "May." I got stuck in the back yard 'cause that lady is scared of dogs. Turns out she's scared of lots of other livin' things, too, which is kinda' strange considerin' she spent forty-some years livin' in a New York City apartment. Way I hear it, they got a leash law for the cockroaches up there.

Anyway, there I was, camped out on the back patio, starin' through the open slidin' glass doors at AHM, May, and May's grown-up daughter sittin' and chattin' in the family room. AHM was tellin' 'em funny stories about her new job, which I'd love to repeat, but I'm not allowed 'cause she'd get fired.

Pretty soon May's daughter gets up and leaves the room, sayin' she's just gonna' make a little stop before she leaves to pick up her own daughter. May was insistin' on makin' somethin' to eat, like AHM says she always does, when all of a sudden the daughter comes shriekin' and hollerin' down the hallway.

Now, ya' gotta' understand this daughter is a very large woman. In all directions. 'Specially from the rear elevation, if ya' know what I mean. Let's just say, if ya' ever heard Chris Berman describe video of a lineman "rumblin', bumblin' stumblin'" into the end zone, you pretty much got the picture.

It took a second or two for coherence to set in. Then came the awful news--there was a toad in the toilet. Before AHM could offer to help, May sprang into action, careenin' down the hall to slam the door shut, then grabbin' a bunch of towels to stuff along the bottom. That toad wasn't gonna' escape on her watch.

Silence briefly reigned, then May asked "What was a toad doin' in the bathroom?"

"Lookin' at me," her daughter said.

(Continued in Read the Rest!)

At that point AHM disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a glass of ice. She came outside and dumped the ice into my water bowl (even 'tho I already had enough ice in that water bowl to freeze my teeth) 'cause she was about two snorts shy of bustin' a gut.

"What if you need to use that bathroom?" AHM finally asked when she went back inside and May's daughter had driven away.

"I've got other bathrooms."

"Well, you've got to open the door sometime."

"Who says?"

They both went out to the kitchen so May could calm her nerves with cookin' stuff, and I moved to the other end of the patio door tryin' to hear. Not much seemed to be goin' on, 'cept May kept askin' how a toad could get in the bathroom. AHM said it probably came up through the drainpipe, which seemed logical to me considerin' May doesn't have Maury around to haul 'em inside.

AHM kept offerin' to check the bathroom while May kept bangin' pots and insistin' the door stay shut. They finally came back into the family room carryin' plates and glasses, and headed for the table in the corner.

"I sure hope I don't sit down and see that toad starin' at me from the other chair," May was sayin'. So AHM had to check all the chairs. No toad.

At least not on the chairs.

They had just startin' eatin'--and I was hopin' they'd toss something out the door for me--when May jumped up with a shriek that could split a rock (not to mention my eardrums), yanked her chair away from the table, and went trundlin' off to the kitchen as fast as a woman her age could trundle.

AHM kept askin' "What? What?" but May just ignored her, barreling back, huffin' and puffin', with a broom cocked and ready. Smart person that she is, AHM got the hell out of range while May started beatin' the crap out of the bookcase.

"Get out (puff, puff) of here! Out (puff, huff), out, OUT!"

With that last out, May yanked open the sliding screen. Since I was facin' the wrong end of a broom, I didn't figure she was invitin' me inside, so I sidled backwards out of reach. Good thing, too, 'cause May seemed to have forgotten I was out there when she started flailin' away again, bangin' and sweepin'.

Next thing I know, somethin' comes rocketin' under my nose and lands with a splat by my right paw. Right then and there I knew the wisdom of never havin' bought into that treat-toss-'n-catch game 'cause this was not the treat I'd been hopin' to have tossed out the door in my direction.

A toad.

A dead toad.

A dead, flat toad.

So flat it looked like a starfish. Only flatter.

Imagine catchin' somethin' like that when you're expectin' a Liver Snap®.

"Don't even think of eatin' it," AHM yelled when I sniffed at it.

What was she, nuts? I was gatherin' together my best what-do-you-think- I-am,-stupid? look when May wrenched open that slidin' screen again. Now she was throwin' out little white balls. This time she got me right between the eyes with somethin' so foul it made my toes curl.

"Moth balls," she explained. "That'll keep 'em away."

Hell, lady, enough of those things would keep Godzilla away.

By now I was havin' serious issues with what might come flyin' out that door next and decided livin' was easier down by the back gate, even if it was that much closer to the pool. Don't know if they ever got around to eatin' or not. Eau de mothball is not high on my favorite seasonings list, so I doubt it. And then there was the view of that dead, flat toad lyin' just outside the door…

Like I said, some people just aren't as understandin' about toads.

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posted by Harrison at 12:04 PM

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Compare this…

"From the outside, Ruth Knueven's Mount Vernon home has real charm: a verdant lawn, manicured hedges, flowers blossoming from fresh mulch beds and, near the front door, a garden ornament depicting two playful cats. But police said that what lurked inside Knueven's two-story home was hardly so delightful.

"Hidden behind that garden ornament was a house bursting with real cats. Animal control officers removed 273 creatures -- 86 of them dead -- after neighbors complained vehemently of odors Friday. Cats were still being plucked from the house yesterday, extracted from the walls and from deep within the brick chimney. Traps were set.

"I don't know how they got in there," Fairfax County police officer Richard Henry said of the hidden cats…

"Police said the cat cache wasn't so isolated. Two weeks ago, police were called to the Falls Church home of Jane Baldinger, 58. They removed 88 cats -- 29 of them dead -- and a dog." [Poor sod didn't have a chance…]

…and this:

"Not too long ago, Labrador retrievers were considered a tad exotic. In the 1950s, the sporty mid-size breed was a suburban rarity, popular mainly among upper-crust Anglophiles who liked the idea of owning a dignified hunting dog. Today, however, Labs are the Levi's jeans of purebred dogs. They've topped the American Kennel Club's list of registered canines for 12 years straight…

"So how did the affable, otter-tailed Lab become the nation's No. 1 purebred dog? Its ascent may have something to do with the supersizing of the American home… [T]he Labrador's increasing popularity may be tied to the advent of exurbs and McMansions. Since 1971, the average size of an American home has risen 55 percent, to 2,320 square feet. Families aren't having more children to fill up the extra space, so there's plenty of room for a Labrador to romp around…"

Note that's one Labrador, not 273.

"But the trend toward jumbo dogs doesn't quite explain why the Labrador retriever is far more popular than other big breeds. The simple answer is that dog owners are mimics: Instead of studying up on breeds that might meet their particular needs, they tend to copy the dog-buying habits of the people down the street."

'Course all of that just goes to show how unique I am.

Canines are a fashion statement and status symbol of a solid, conservative life. Even Bill Clinton tried to pretend he was a dog person by gettin' a Labrador. Unfortunately poor Buddy met a suspicious early demise while the Clinton's were off spreadin' more liberal manure.

AHM says back in the 40s (not that she's old enough to remember, of course, but it's what she was told) all the rage was a white picket fence and a collie in the yard--no doubt a result of all those Lassie movies. Before that it was wire fox terriers, thanks to Asta and The Thin Man. Now it's chihuahuas ridin' around in purses. Next it'll be somethin' else. Hey, I never said you humans made sense. If ya' did, we would be the #1 breed in the world.

In spite of that, it just goes to show real canine owners understand responsibility (you try housebreakin' a labrador!) while fe-lyin' owners are… Well… They let all their squishy liberal emotions run rampant when they see that ball of fur--forgettin' it will be hackin' up balls of fur all over the furniture and trackin' used kitty litter into the beddin' for the rest of its unnatural life. Nothin' more excitin' than findin' a fe-lyin' perched on your pillow lickin' its butt.

But hey, on the up side, they can leave the little menace to its own devices whenever they wanna' spend some quality time on the protest circuit.

[Thanks to Human Female Meryl for diggin' up the dog info, although we could have done without the "copycat" comment.]

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posted by Harrison at 8:12 AM

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I'm beginnin' to think avian anarchists--'specially sea bird type avians--are as big a menace as fe-lyings. Apparently it's a bunch of dirty birds unleashin' all that pollution on the pristine Arctic and not that nasty acid rain from America.

On the other paw, it sounds like none of these scientists ever left their cars outside within crappin' distance of a tree.

"A major source of chemical contamination in the Arctic turns out to be bird droppings. Wind currents and human activities long have been blamed for fouling the pristine Arctic. But a study by a group of Canadian researchers found that the chemical pollution in areas frequented by seabirds can be many times higher than in nearby regions..."

Think they'll stop blamin' America? Nah. Neither did I.

"Scientists report in Friday's issue of the journal Science that the ponds, which receive falling guano from a colony of northern fulmars that nest on the cliffs, have highly elevated amounts of chemicals...

"[Researcher Jules] Blais calls it the boomerang effect. "These contaminants had been washed into the ocean, where we generally assumed they were no longer affecting terrestrial ecosystems. Our study shows that sea birds, which feed in the ocean but then come back to land, are returning not only with food for their young but with contaminants as well. The contaminants accumulate in their bodies and are released on land," Blais said."

Talk about dirty bombs… 'Course anyone livin' 'round our town could have told 'em that long ago, 'specially durin' mulberry season. Ripe purple mulberry season. Ya' don't leave your car uncovered 'less ya' want it turned into a piece of rollin' abstract art.

Now, as far as ethical conundrums…I'm confused. (No, not about that! I know the difference between those two so get your mind out of the litter pan. Besides, they don't make those other things stretchy enough to fit me.)

Anyway, I thought you humans had decided you and monkeys were pretty much the same anyway--ya' know--that "evolution" business and all--so why are these experiments a bad thing?

"The insertion of human stem cells into monkey brains runs a "real risk" of altering the animals' abilities in ways that might make them more like us, scientists said today.

"A panel of 22 experts -- including primatologists, stem cell researchers, lawyers and philosophers -- debated the possible consequences of the technique for more than a year.

"While the group agrees it is "unlikely that grafting human stem cells into the brains of non-human primates would alter the animals' abilities in morally relevant ways," the members "also felt strongly that the risk of doing so is real and too ethically important to ignore."

No one's admittin' whether experiments goin' in the other direction have been done, but after a quick survey of the Demo-cat Party and a coupla' minutes readin' through the Huff'nPuffPo site, I figure scientists have been at it for years.

And no, I'm not linkin'. You can find lá belle Arianna all on your own.

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posted by Harrison at 9:47 PM

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…to all you humans who didn't listen to me in the first place.

Dogs, People Best at Securing Mass Transit

"Within hours of the London bombings, a renewed call went up for the United States to use its considerable technology heft to prevent similar attacks on the nation's transit system.

"[U.S.] public transit's chief lobbyist said its members need $6 billion to upgrade security, and Congress is expected to increase funding in the coming weeks. Sensing opportunity, some technology companies aggressively advertised their potential to create gadgets to detect bombs and chemical and biological weapons.

"But ideas such as smoke-detector-like devices sounding an alarm when a bomb-porting terrorist enters a train station are years and billions of dollars from fruition - if ever. The best current defenses for the country's subways, buses and trains, security experts say, remain decidedly low tech: human vigilance and bomb-sniffing dogs."

I still think they should consider usin' us little guys.

First, we take up a whole hell of a lot less room, especially on public transport. Second, we can get into all the small spaces those big hulks can't reach. Not every terrorist is gonna' leave his knapsack lyin' conveniently on top of or in front of a seat. We terriers are bred to "go to ground." (Terra--earth--terriers--get it?) We could crawl the whole length of a bus or train car--or even a plane--checkin' under the seats lookin' for the teeniest little package. Well--other terriers might. I don't do the crawl-through-old-chewing gum-squashed bugs-and-baby-spitup scene. Bet they could convince a Jack Russell to do it, though, if they could be convinced not to brag about it all over town.

Double brwaaaappzth! for ignorin' my warnin' 'bout fe-lyings…

Plague-infected cats cause worry in Wyoming

"A local cat was diagnosed with plague Friday — the fourth in southern Wyoming this year — and public health officials warned that people should take precautions to protect their pets and themselves…

"In many parts of the West, plague is endemic in the fleas infesting rodent populations. The disease can jump to other animals, including humans, if they come into contact with infected fleas. Researchers speculate that the infected cats probably caught or ate infected rodents…

"I think this is just going to be the tip of the iceberg," [Gus] Lopez [director of the Cheyenne-Laramie County Health Department] said. "And what really concerns me is these cases with cats right now really increase the risk of human exposure."… An infected cat might bring infected fleas into a home; it might also infect people by biting, scratching or coughing. "That's very, very dangerous, because the disease progresses very rapidly in that situation," [Ken] Gage [of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Fort Collins, CO] said.

And triple brwaaaappzth! even tho' it's an old story (dug up at Instapundit).

"They may look like lovable pets but Britain’s estimated 9m domestic cats are being blamed by scientists for infecting up to half the population with a parasite that can alter people’s personalities…"

No surprise the French have more infected people than anyone else.

"The [Stanley Research Medical Institute of Maryland] institute has already published research showing that people infected with the toxoplasma parasite are at greater risk of developing schizophrenia and manic depression…"

Makin' 'em greater risks to develop into, oh, say, homicide bombers?

"Toxoplasma moves in a natural cycle between rats and cats. Rats acquire it from contact with cat faeces and cats reacquire it from hunting infected rats. It has long been known that humans can become infected with the parasite through close contact with cats."

Lie down with fe-lyings… Heh.

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posted by Harrison at 7:38 PM

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...get up with fleas.

Yeah, I know that's not the way most people use the expression, but it's fe-lyings that are carryin' the fleas everywhere 'cause they roam all over the landscape and hang out with every sort of vermin. So it's fittin' that Muslims love fe-lyings and hate canines.

I can smell the fear whenever I walk past 'em (which isn't often, thankfully). I'm sayin' fear 'cause they're scared of touchin' a canine since that Mohammad person said we're "unclean"--like it isn't fe-lyings who spend the whole live-long day lickin' their butts after doin' their business. Seems like people who read what that guy wrote down are scared of lots of things, 'specially disagreein' with the curs in their own pack. Considerin' how you humans are all hot to do away with canines you consider vicious breeds--Pit Bulls, German Shepherds, Rotweilers--I can't figure out why some of you don't have the same attitude 'bout those vicious human breeds.

Instapundit has a couple of links to Global Voices Online--which is collectin' the Muslim bloggers' response to London--here and here. It's real curious what they're sayin'--and discoverin' not one is callin' for mass demonstrations against the Islamo-curs.

Like Glenn Reynolds posted yesterday:

"Paul Schmidt says [Tom] Friedman is right: "If there isn't a Million Muslim March this weekend, if there aren't crowds of muslims chanting and holding signs, "not in our name", then doubt as to the existence of moderate muslims will grow, and grow quickly."

Waitin'…waitin'…

Nope, don't see anything out there.

We canines are pretty basic--you harm my pack, I wipe out yours and take your territory. 'Course since we've been hangin' out with you humans that takin'-your-territory business has pretty much been reduced to Power Peein' on your petunias, but ya' get the idea.

The New York Times says we're fortunate we haven't been attacked again. Maybe. Or maybe those Muslims mutts out there discovered they were messin' with a big dog and, bein' the yellow-striped cowardly Islamo-curs they are, don't wanna' try again until he's been replaced.

Then again, maybe our pack leaders have dropped a flea in the ear of those Muslim fe-lyin'-lovers in Iran and Saudi Arabia and Syria and all those other places. Somethin' like "When the first nuke or dirty bomb goes off in one of our cities, that friggin' hunk of black stone you worship is gonna' be the world's biggest piece of glass."

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posted by Harrison at 10:59 PM

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Okay, I gotta' know. Why are you humans encouragin' your representatives to make more stupid laws?

"A state lawmaker is pushing for doggy seat belts on the advice of an 11-year-old constituent. Marc McCann of Green Tree came up with the idea as part of state Rep. Tom Stevenson's annual "There Ought to be a Law" contest."

My suggestion? There oughta' be a law outlawin' Rep. Tom Stevenson.

"Stevenson, R-Pa., submitted a bill to the House Transportation Committee in June that would require drivers to keep their dogs' heads inside the vehicle at all times. Stevenson also wants to require drivers to restrain the animals, either with some kind of modified seat belt or in a crate or carrier box."

Sure, buddy. Just as soon as you pass that friggin' leash law for fe-lyings!

Wha…? Huh?… Oh. Never mind.

"Walking a cat on a leash could become a common sight in Upper Moreland… "I want a cat leash law. I want the owners to be as responsible as I am," said Willow Grove [PA] resident Cindy Deasey, the owner of a dog who was twice seriously injured chasing a cat from her yard. "I want them held to the same standards that I'm held to," she said of cat owners, including those who feed and care for feral cats and other strays. "If my dog was digging up people's gardens and peeing and leaving animal parts," she said, "people would be up in arms."

Now, just to prove there's a place full of bigger idiots than PA (even tho' the Clintons have moved out).

Woodpecker victim of hate speech

"Two Little Rock radio-station disc jockeys have been suspended from their jobs for one day after they posted a cartoon on the Internet showing an ivory-billed woodpecker getting strangled.

"The rare [ivory billed] woodpecker was last sighted in 1944 and long believed to be extinct. [It] was rediscovered living in the bottomlands of eastern Arkansas…"

Insert sleazy Bill-and-Monica-meet-Woody-Woodpecker joke here.

"The federal government has pledged money to assure that the bird's habitat isn't damaged. But Deitz and Hamilton argue that taxpayer money should not be spent on the woodpecker. The cartoon's caption said "The woodpecker must die!''

Still… This law I can live with--ice cream trucks gettin' ticketed for violatin' anti-noise ordinances.

"Some [Mr. Ding-a-Ling ice cream] vendors have been ticketed for violating local noise ordinances, prompting officials of the Albany-based company to order their trucks to stay away from New York Mills and Whitestown, where people have complained about music blaring from loudspeakers…

"A compromise could work," said owner Brian Collis, "like if we played the music when the truck is stopped, at least so people know we're there."

We know you're there, buddy. Believe me, we know. In fact, ya'll haven't lived until you've heard an ice cream truck blarin' its Music Box Dancer arrangement of La Cucaraucha that sounds like a calliope on helium.

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posted by Harrison at 8:10 PM

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"We shall not fail or falter; we shall not weaken or tire. Neither the sudden shock of battle nor the long-drawn trials of vigilance and exertion will wear us down. Give us the tools and we will finish the job."

Winston Churchill, 1941

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posted by Harrison at 7:41 PM

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Stupid Ideas Whose Time Will Never Come

And ya' probably won't live too long tryin' 'em out even if they do.

Yak Skiing

"[Time] magazine's Asian edition says this "implausible extreme sport" involves going at rocket speed uphill attached by rope to a yak charging downhill."

Not that it's high on our "must know" list, but how do you get that yak to yank?

"The yak skier waits nervously below, wearing skis and holding a bucket of pony nuts..."

While his own are turnin' into gnat nuts.

"They shake the bucket of nuts to attract the yak - and put it down fast as the beast charges down the mountain, pulling the skier upwards at terrifying speed. "If you forget yourself in the excitement and shake the bucket too soon, you'll be flattened by two hairy tons of behemoth," the magazine says.

Think Wily E. Coyote and an Acme Anvil.

"Mr Dorje's advice is: "Never shake the bucket of nuts before you're tied to the yak rope."

Now there's a piece of advice liberal Demo-cats could use.

And if not, well, there's always this option I dug up here. (With must-see-to-believe picture.)

"Invisible Breed Products^TM
Turn your Doberman into a Poodle!
Turn your German Shepherd into a Golden Retriever!
Turn your Mastiff into an Old English Sheepdog!"

Turn your hand into hamburger plasterin' duct tape on the wrong part of the canine anatomy.

On the other paw… Wonder if Mad Dog Howie Dean could fit in that Sheepdog suit. A wolf in sheep's clothin'…

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posted by Harrison at 9:04 PM

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