…'n Happy New Year to all. If I didn't answer some of your comments when ya' made 'em, I'm sorry. Blame AHM. I would've responded, but that opposable thumbs issue keeps rearin' it's ugly head and ya' know what it's like findin' good help…

[Epecially free help.]

Okay, okay. Anyway… This year is endin' pretty much like it began—weird.

First off, between the big ape who dies and the lion who dies and comes back to life (kinda' like his movie), everyone out in Hollywood Dog land is gaga over the tale of a couple of sheepherdin' Lassies who are really Lads in wolf's clothin'. There has to be a way to combine all three ideas and create the perfect movie script, right? Guess Whiplash is the best we can hope for, which, all things considered, is probably closer to the mark than we know…

This sounds pretty silly too...

"Ouch! Viennese city authorities are putting the bite on the Austrian capital city's new dog owners starting next week. From Jan. 1, liability insurance will be mandatory for Vienna's dog owners for pets born after that date under new city laws.

"Policies must have minimum coverage of euro725,000 (US$864,000.) They are meant to pay for legal, hospital or other costs arising from damage or injury caused by the animals. Those caught without insurance could be forced to pay fines up to euro3,500 - more than US$4,000."

…until you remember it's Austria--the country that gave us chicken panties.

'Course they might have read about this before votin'.

"A pack of angry Chihuahuas attacked a police officer who was escorting a teenager home following a traffic stop in California.

"The officer suffered minor injuries including bites to his ankle when the five Chihuahuas escaped from the 17-year-old boy’s home and rushed the officer in the doorway, said Fremont detective Bill Veteran… The officer was treated at a local hospital and returned to work less than two hours later, Veteran said."

Somehow I never thought to put the words "Chihuahuas," "attack," and "angry" in one sentence. "Yappy" and "Napoleon complex" were enough for me. Norma better watch out.

Needless to say that sort of behavior is reeeaally out of line accordin' to Elsie the Cow's Guide to Effective Leadership Skills.

"Recent studies on leadership in cows and other grazing herbivores suggest that intelligence, inquisitiveness, confidence, experience and good social skills help to determine which animals will become leaders within herds.

"The findings suggest that, at least among these animals, individuals are not necessarily "born leaders," and that bullying, selfishness, size and strength are not recognized as suitable leadership qualities."

Will you humans never stop tryin' to push your liberal touchy-feely attitudes onto us? Get a clue, people. Most of us just ignore ya'—like this dude who apparently was absent the day they held those sensitivity trainin' classes.

"A group in a small town west of Oslo wanted to set up a living nativity scene; instead, they got a wild chase because of a cow that had other ideas… The cow…spotted a chance to run -- and did. There's a lot of power in a good cow,…"

Now there's words to live by. Ya' gotta' watch those sneaky cows every minute or
pay the price.

In the good new/bad news category, the bad news is, squirrel terrorists strike when least expected. The good news is, help is on the way.

"Pop’s Bait Shop (Lawrenceburg, Tenn.) and the Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency are sponsoring a Youth Squirrel Hunt on January 21, 2006. The hunt will be conducted using squirrel dogs…"

With photo goodness of The Hammer, Jack Hammer, and Sledge Hammer and their 17 dead squirrels. Eat your heart out, Cosmo.

Would someone tell me why the Japanese (who, btw, collaborated on that chicken panties fashion debacle) insist on makin' robots outta' everythin'? Ya' think they woulda' learned from that little incident with Godzilla and Megatron…

"This is no ordinary under-the-refrigerator type bug. This roach has been surgically implanted with a micro-robotic backpack that allows researchers to control its movements. This is Robo-roach.

"Unfortunately spammers are emailing the roaches when they broadcast to cell phones. "We had an incident last week where we sent a roach into an duct to test for an air leak, when we asked the roach to turn right, it responded by asking for our email addresses and offered to send us viagra in return."

Yeah—just what the world needs—roaches on viagra.

Last, but not least, for those of you canines who got Greenies in your Christmas stockin', well, be careful and chew responsibly!

"It is the nation's top-selling dog treat, with $315 million in domestic retail sales last year. It is so beloved by dogs that amused owners have a nickname for it - doggie crack…

The results, outlined in a multi-authored article soon to be submitted to the Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Association, found that, after bones and fish hooks, compressed vegetable chew treats were the third-most-common culprit in obstructions. McKiernan notes that the cases mostly involved small dogs."

Personally I was holdin' out for Cannabiscuits. Then the year would have made sense…

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posted by Harrison at 4:27 PM

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Eulogy to a rare companion.

I ask myself how it is possible that my Luna who had so much that was perfect should die, but that some smart aleck, smarmy comedian should grin and mock righteousness, innocence, honor, courage, and love with such ease and so little penalty?

Amen.

Dug up at NRO's The Corner

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posted by Harrison at 6:58 AM

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And the world.

Christmas celebrates the birth of Jesus the Christ, but somethin' else was born one Christmas Day night long ago that that we should be rememberin'.

"As a bitter northeast wind blew on Christmas Day, twenty-four hundred Continental soldiers began assembling at McKonkey's Ferry, eight miles up the Delaware from Trenton. Beginning at sundown, Colonel John Glover's Fourteenth Massachusetts Continental Regiment-the Marbleheaders-began to ferry troops, horses, and eighteen cannon across the icy river in an ever-worsening storm of sleet and snow…

"As the stormy night dragged on, it was clear that the element of complete surprise Washington had hoped for on the march to Trenton had been lost because it took so long to ferry everyone across the river and the operation had been noisy and conspicuous. On the other hand, the accelerating storm effectively obscured the troops' advance as much as darkness and complete silence might have. The plan had been to have all the men and munitions across by midnight, but it was nearly four o'clock in the morning before the units were assembled on the New Jersey side, ready to march eight miles south to Trenton.

  "The exhausting physical effort,
  especially on the part of the
  Marblehead soldier-boatsmen,
  poling and steering the Durham
  boats amidst the floating blocks of
  ice, was notable. The booming voice
  of the three-hundred-pound giant,
  Colonel Henry Knox, was heard
  everywhere, providing organiza-
  tional stability… By the time the
march began the wind was blowing toward the south, supporting the marchers and hurling snow and ice into the faces of enemy sentries.

"Washington was determined to risk everything to carry out his major objective… From the north, Knox's batteries hurled their rounds down the streets, and soon Washington was enthralled to hear [General John] Sullivan's cannon joining in from the south. The dryness of the artillery firing chambers proved crucial. As the storm drove needles of sleet into the faces of the enemy, the Continentals fired grapeshot, round shot, and exploding shells.

"The Hessians, surprised and disoriented, could not form in ranks because of the sweeping fire of Knox's guns. Both their small arms and artillery were drenched and inoperable. Bayonets were useless because the Americans did not close in. The Hessians were surrounded, and surrendered after an hour and a half. The Continental Army had done the seemingly impossible: it captured nearly nine hundred Hessians, killed or wounded more than one hundred, and seized six field pieces, a thousand muskets, a complete set of band instruments, and forty hogsheads of rum. There are conflicting reports of American casualties, but no report lists more than a half dozen dead and wounded.

"What of the troops themselves-the boys and men who had endured so much suffering and discomfort-who had been away from home for so long, and whose enlistments would expire when the New Year began? Would they re-enlist? At their camps and garrison posts, the troops were paraded and their officers made speeches imploring them to stay on. One by one, most of the veterans re-enlisted. The Revolution was alive!"

Now that's somethin' to celebrate—unless you're a Demo-cat or part of the MSM.

AHM grew up where all that happened, spendin' time picnickin' and playin' and explorin' at will among places now officially a Tourist Attraction, full of regulated tours 'n red velvet ropes. She even got to see one of the famous re-enactments held every Christmas back when it was still led by the originator of the feat, St. John Terrell.

Sometimes the good ole' days really were good.

*by Sharon Hernes Silverman, originally published in Pennsylvania Heritage Magazine Volume XXV, Number 4 - Fall 1999

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posted by Harrison at 7:08 PM

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Like so many families everywhere, we have our traditions too, and they're not all rip and tear on Christmas mornin'. Singin' carols is one. Okay,
so most people don't wanna' join in when we get
into the singin' thing, but we're havin' fun!

Another is readin' 'Twas the Night Before Christmas" to the pups. As you can see, I take my responsibilities seriously. Unfortunately, when Clement Moore wrote his poem, he was unaware of the multitude of problems surroundin' Christmas. Don't think I'll mention that part to the pups.



'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

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posted by Harrison at 6:26 PM

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You Are Comet

A total daredevil, you're the reindeer with an edge! Why You're Naughty: You almost gave Santa a heart attack when you took him sky diving Why You're Nice: You always make sure the sleigh is going warp speed

Which of Santa's Reindeer Are You?

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posted by Harrison at 1:51 PM

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Bones 'n bows 'n chewies 'n crunchies 'n lots of good stuff is pilin' up. 'Course I'm too sophisticated to rummage around lookin' for my gifts. Well… Maybe just that little one aaaalll the way in the back where no one will see…

Now—how to get past the guard.

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posted by Harrison at 10:24 PM

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Well, it doesn't look like I'll be getting' my lion for Christmas. I even wrote Rudolph—no luck. Now ya' know I've gotta' be desperate when I start sendin' emails to something wearin' horns who, based on the condition of his nose, has obviously been out on a lifetime bender.

"Rudolph the red-nose reindeer thought EmailSanta was so cool that he asked the elves to create one just for pets! There's even a specially designed keyboard so Rudolph can reply!! Kewl, eh?"

Eeeewwwll.

Rudolph did have a couple of last minute suggestions for those fe-lyings of my acquaintance—special gifts that will really bring out their unique personalities…



Whoa Dasher and Dancer! Talk about a deer in the headlights. That's not a face I'd wanna' catch in my rear view mirror on Christmas Eve. Gotta' admit, though, the dangly jingle bell is rather fetchin'.





Now this is a little better. Gives the fe-lyin' a chance to hang themselves if anyone catches 'em decked out in these togs. I figure they can have fun Christmas mornin' turnin' that outfit back into a big tangle of yarn. Besides, it's the thought that counts, right?





This, however, is thinkin' waaaay too far outside the box.

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posted by Harrison at 11:39 PM

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Your zombies are wanderin' loose in Tennessee (d'uh)--and (insert blood-curdlin' scream here) they're votin'!

"Election records of a September special election that put Ophelia Ford in a state Senate seat show that someone may have used the name of a man who had been dead for six weeks to vote [in Memphis]. Ford, a Democrat, beat Republican challenger Terry Roland by 13 votes in a race in which 8,750 ballots were cast. The election was to replace Ford's brother John Ford, who resigned in May after being indicted on bribery charges…"

Twice. [ID: morons@gomemphis.com PW: bugmenot]

"A second dead voter cast a ballot in the September special election held to fill the seat vacated by former state senator John Ford. Like a similar case documented earlier this week, this one involves an elderly voter who died weeks before the Sept. 15 election, an investigation by The Commercial Appeal found. Both of the suspect votes occurred in Precinct 27-1, in the heart of heavily Democratic North Memphis.

Make that thrice. Except…wait for it…they're really Republicans in zombieface!

"Harold Ford Sr. [a lobbyist who served in Congress until 1997 when his son, Rep. Harold Ford Jr., succeeded him] isn't waiting for answers. Ford said…he's opened his own investigation into allegations that two dead voters cast ballots in the September state Senate race that his sister, Ophelia Ford, won by 13 votes. Ford said he's not prepared to make any accusations, yet suggested evidence of any skulduggery will lead to Republicans, not his own Democratic Party…

"Requesting a criminal probe, Shelby County Election Commission Chairman Greg Duckett said he believes as many as five ballots may have been forged in heavily Democratic Precinct 27-1. Those ballots include the two cast in the names of dead voters as well as three others, he said."

Okay. Enough's enough. If those Demo-cats are gonna' bring back their dead to vote, I say we bring back some of our own—startin' with this one:

"Since the death of Ronald Reagan, various ghostly phenomena have been reported up at the Reagan Ranch in the hills above Santa Barbara. Visitors to the ranch have reported seeing a peculiar figure in a cowboy hat and jean jacket, riding a galloping horse near the perimeter of the rugged 688-acre property. When guests ask at the office about the historical reenactment, the baffled staffers say, “There is no one at the ranch matching that description.”

Works for me.

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posted by Harrison at 8:35 PM

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…writin' headlines. Even a fe-lyin'!

Usually I don't get into the headline stuff unless it's real big, like an election or somethin'. But this mornin', AHM fires up the ole' dinosaur computer, open her MY WAY page and yells "Oh @#&!"

Now in our house that generally means exactly what it says, but we all knew we'd done nothin'. So…why? 'Cause of this:

Cheney Visits Iraq; Attacks Kill 19

Cause and effect anyone?

Then it got worse. For a split second, when readin' the first sentence of the story, 'specially the way it was laid out on the page, it sounded like VP Cheney had been killed! Wishful thinkin' on the part of the MY WAY writers

"BAGHDAD, Iraq (AP) - A string of

attacks killed 19 people, including two

relatives of a senior Kurdish official, and

Vice President Dick Cheney made a

surprise visit Sunday

Not nice to do to a bleary-eyed, brain-fogged person on a Sunday mornin'.

They eventually changed the lay-out, but when are news organizations gonna' require that their reporters have at least graduated from high school?

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posted by Harrison at 12:13 PM

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"Long under consideration, and a controversial issue to some, an ordinance introduced by Donna Travis…won unanimous support for first passage from the [Warwick, RI] City Council Monday night that requires pet owners spay or neuter their cats by six-months of age. The measure is in response to the alarming number of unwanted or abandoned felines the city’s animal shelter euthanizes annually."

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posted by Harrison at 9:01 PM

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Not that I'd want to…

Every Christmas season there's gotta' be at least 1,000 radios destroyed by humans drop-kickin' 'em across the room when some sadistic DJ cues up the ole' Singing Dogs version of Jingle Bells. Well, 50 years later, I guess you humans are gettin' back at us. (Don't believe it's fifty years? You doubt me?)

The whole music as pet therapy bu$ine$$ is gettin' bigger every year. Whole litters of people with strings of letters after their names are studyin' and explain' what we canines (and other pets) like and why. I imagine a whole bunch of these Useless Gifts (Part V) will be showin' up in Christmas stockings. (See Part I for "dog-touchin' tunes" and Part IV for a link to fe-lyin' CDs.)

NPR even gets into the act, 'tho I suppose it's better than lettin' 'em talk politics.

"Musician and producer Skip Haynes…created [a CD, "Ask the Animals: Songs to Make Dogs Happy!"]…in conjunction with an "animal communicator," Dr. Kim Ogden-Avrutik, who served as a sort of translator during focus groups to test out the music."

Ever notice how all those "animal communicator" people have two last names? Guess they're tryin' to identify with us show-biz types who all have impossibly long, pretentious monikers.

"Among the revelations: Some kinds of percussion (too much like gunshots) and the word "no" (not popular among many species) are not popular among dog listeners."

Gee, d'ya' think?

"Notable titles on the disc include "I'll Be Back," "I Love Food," and what Haynes says is the album's No. 1 hit, "Squeaky-Deakey!"

I know what I'd like to squeaky-deakey on that guy. But for amusement there is the unintentionally suggestive "Scratch My Back." (Go listen for a quick thrill.) In the interest of informin' our readers, AHM played the samples for our resident music critic--my kid Hem. He listened for 'bout ten seconds, went to his bed, rucked it up a whole bunch, turned 'round three times, yawned, and went to sleep. Think that's a paws down.

Along those same lines, Freda sent us this link for a CD of another human singin' 'bout dogs—for dogs. Hem slept through that one too.

One enterprisin' tunesmith will even custom make a song, just for your special animal.

"Your very own Custom made song of any style can be created about your dog or cat, which will include the name(s) and any personality traits, good or baaad! The style of music is up to you!"

The Sounds of Silence comes to mind.

Everyone seems to think if ya' put a CD on continuous loop when ya' leave us alone we won't trash the house. Think again. Would you wanna' listen to the same songs over and over and over and over and over…?

But no Christmas season would be complete without some fool offerin' somethin' like this—Chewbacca does it to Christmas…carols.* He gives Silent Night a whole new meanin'. Click at your own risk. I mean that. Really. You have been warned.

*Dug up at NRO's The Corner

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posted by Harrison at 3:10 PM

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Cosmo Goldberg had surgery a coupla' days ago and certain rodents are takin' advantage of the Enforcer bein' out of commission.

"…power was lost at The Barn Restaurant, the Wal-Mart shopping center and Greenwood subdivision, as well as other areas. The outage started at a utility pole beside The Barn, when the squirrel short-circuited safety switches designed to prevent widespread outages….

"All of the power was restored to the area by 6 p.m.,… Most stores in the area were closed while the repairs were completed."

CG's recooperatin' at home and could use some good wishes if ya' feel like droppin' him a note.

Meanwhile…"…the it dog of the American right…"?

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posted by Harrison at 8:12 PM

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Bein' the Christmas season, even I can't leave out all those fe-lyings litterin' the blogosphere when it comes to findin' useless gifts. 'Course there haven't been many recent sightings of Gracie and Tig, but I'm sure Meryl's busy shoppin' for their Hanukkah gifts. Since Tig's been havin' some anxiety issues, maybe she should consider this:

"The first-ever music CD for cats and their owners! Scientifically tested, recommended by animal psychologists! A special gift for your very best friends!"

Not too sure I'd trust somethin' put together by someone named Prof. Dr. Bubna-Littitz. (Say it out loud and try not to laugh. Sounds like a drunken redneck at a strip club accidentally settin' fire to VaVa vaVoom's tassels.)

Laurence Simon's tribe seems to be into computer controlled toys. It would be interestin' to see if those fe-lyings can figure out how to program this to take out this.

"Revolutionary in design, the Panic Mouse has a built-in computer board that signals a battery-powered motor creating random and unpredictable, "mouse-like" movements."

Now, if we could just make a toy that would encourage Demo-cats to chase Panic Islamists…

Speakin' of Demo-cats… Here's somethin' special that will bring back memories of a former Demo-cat leader. (If we stick one in his mouth do ya' think he'll shut up?)

"Yeowww! Catnip Cigars are 7" long and fully loaded with the best organic catnip available. Filled with 100% organically grown catnip."

Fully loaded, eh? Now why would that remind me of this totally useless gift.

"WJC Talking Doll. This action figure speaks 21 of Bill Clinton's famous quotes."

Maybe not so useless. Actually it's almost worth the $19.92 (yes, that's the listed price) just to find out if he says it.

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posted by Harrison at 10:58 PM

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Okay, not hazy, 'cept when AHM lights the fire and forgets to open the damper.

While searchin' the web for my lion, we ran across a few toys 'specially made for you lazy humans. Actually we ran across a lot of toys for lazy humans, but these seem like the most fun for a human and pet to experience together, as well as bein' suitable additions to my growin' Guide to Useless Gifts (Part III).

'Course this first one's not really a toy. In our place, however, ya' never know…

"One thing that sometimes wakes you up at night and prevents you from sleeping is the mosquito or blowfly…flying around your room. You can't and don't want to fall asleep again until you've caught it. These produces adrenalin and requires movements."

Yes. Yes these does. (Who hired Gollum as copywriter?) And the movements usually come from Little Girl careenin' around the room, jaws snappin' and snout bangin' off window panes tryin' to eat the little bugger. If Miss Garbo happens to be visitin', we're treated to the Ebony and Ivory Flyin' Circus. And if Maury gets into the act…well…it's the only time we all cram onto AHM's bed without squabblin'.

"The alarm clock blowfly works like a "blowfly" that at the desire time it escapes from a cage in your room. It starts moving and producing sound around you - to turn it off you should catch it and put it back in the cage."

Keywords: you should catch it. Warnin' not mentioned: keep bedroom doors and windows closed or goD knows where that thing will end up. 'Course we'd just follow LG's trail of mayhem.

We couldn't find a price, but if you're interested, be sure to figure in the cost of all the tables, lamps, mirrors, stereo, TV, and computer equipment within' lungin' 'n swattin' distance.

With cold weather here, nothing's better than crowdin' around the hearth while AHM toasts marshmellows over the fire, then spendin' the next three hours tryin' to scrape that sticky goo off the roof of our mouths and our back molars, not to mention our nose, whiskers, beards, paws, between our toes, etc.

Hmmmm. Just remembered why AHM doesn't toast marshmellows very often.

Anyway, for those of ya' who do, here ya' go. The electric marshmellow toaster. Perfect for those loss-of-power-blizzard-condition nights 'n days since it runs on batteries (not included, of course) and, for the low-low price of only $19.95 (plus shipping and handling), toasts three marshmellows at a time! Wow. At least you'll never want for warm food.

Last, but not least, the one, the only, the ultimate dog toy for incredibly lazy humans.*

"GoDogGo^™ is the first, and still the only, Automatic Fetch Machine for dogs. Yes, now Fido can play fetch by himself…

"[W]ith just a little training (helpful tips are included with each Go Dog Go,) your dog can learn to put the balls back in the bucket for continuous play with GoDogGo."

Since I'm of the "you-threw-it-you-fetch-it" school, this is not high on my list. But it might be nice for somethin' to keep Maury occupied when he's here—'cept we'd never be exactly sure where he'd stuff those balls…

*Dug up at the Big Paws Dog Blog.

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posted by Harrison at 10:10 PM

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If a canine goes wrong, attackin' 'n killin' a human—no matter the reason—they're gone from the world. No chance to turn their life around, even if they were abused most of their life.

Well, that's the way of the world, I suppose. But you humans are really getting' weird over this Stanley Williams person. I mean, you're talkin' a pit bull/rottie cross masqueradin' as a human! After listenin' to a lot of talk, I never heard this Williams person ever said he did the wrong thing killin' those people. And that rabid pack he started has killed lots and lots and lots of other people.

So why should he be spared just 'cause he supposedly turned his life around, wrote a couple of books—which haven't sold worth Cat Chow—and now tells kids not to join gangs? Oh, yeah--now he tells 'em.

If ya' didn't spare Karla Fay Tucker when she turned her life around in prison, why should ya' save Stanley?

Just askin'…

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posted by Harrison at 6:53 AM

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Only 13 shoppin' days left to find my lion!

So while I'm waitin', here's the Greenies' (those geriatric hippies who work hard at getting' others to do all the work) idea of a gift for dogs: The Original Dog Powered Scooter.

"…[W]e're pleased as punch to announce an all-new entrant into the wonderful world of alternative, renewable fuels: dog power. That's right, thanks to "The Original Dog Powered Scooter," the power of our canine friends can now be harnessed to help us get around."

Guess those old bones are too worn out from all the marchin' and riotin' ya' did durin' your flamin' youth.

"Based on the premise that you and your dog are both going to the same place, the scooter/harness combination reinvents any previous attempts to harness the power of man's best friend by having the dog push rather than pull (on a leash, sled, etc.). This puts the steering and braking control in the hands of the rider, making it much safer for crowded urban sidewalks and bike paths.

Based on personal experience I know this is a reeeeeaaally dumb idea, 'cause the premise that your dog(s) intend to go to the same place—in the same direction--as you is hypothetical at best. I warned ya' before about this sort of nonsense:

"When I was just a pup, Silly Human Female thought it would be cute…to put harnesses on all of us, hook us up to [a wagon], and have us haul her shoppin' bags around town. It was a reeeeaally stupid idea. The stupidest idea of all the stupid ideas that paragon of stupidness thought up…

"Right off the girls started squabblin' about who was wearin' the red harness instead of the blue, Uncle Harry was bitchin' about bein' stuck next to Grand Dam Bitch (who promptly laid down for a nap, never to get up without a well-placed stick of dynamite) and my brother Han and I thought we'd act out the great chariot race from Ben Hur.

"Do ya' know how much noise one of those suckers makes when it flips over and gets dragged across asphalt, gravel, and rocks? With all the clangin' and bangin' we naturally figured the Great Fe-lyin' Devil from Hell was chasin' us which only made us run faster--in six different directions. Grand Dam Bitch hadn't moved that fast since…well…since never."

And we're just little guys. Imagine the chaos if ya' put two huge dudes in those harnesses like they show in the pictures. Think "Squirrels to right of them,/Rabbits to left of them,/Fe-lyings in front of them/…Into the mouth of Hell/Rode the six hundred."*

And just so ya' know what those Greenie fools honestly think 'bout canines in their effort to exploit us…

"The outrigger keeps the slobbering powerplant in one place, and its location on the right side of the scooter keeps your engine-with-a-tail away from traffic, automobile or otherwise."

"Slobbering powerplant!" I guaran-damn-tee you I slobber less than your average Greenie salivatin' with anticipation 'bout wreckin' the local SUV dealership.

"The scooter is customizable for one to three dogs, which brings to mind a new sport sure to sweep the world: urban dog mushing. We can see it now..."

I came, I saw, I wrecked the sled.

However, in the spirit of the Christmas season, I wouldn't want even a stupid Greenie to be left out on that special mornin', so, thanks to Wonderdog Cal, here's the perfect gift for 'em…

World Famous Hand-Crafted Dog Poop "The most realistic dog doo that money can buy. Looks and feels so incredibly real that nobody can tell otherwise."

*With apologies to Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

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posted by Harrison at 12:21 PM

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…so for you last-minute types, here's Part I of Harrison's Guide To Useless Gifts ('cept for the first one).

AHM and me have been shoppin', her in the stores and both of us on-line. She's getting' discouraged, in spite of havin' fun sneakin' that itsy-bitsy car of hers around all the Incredible Hunks and slippin' into spaces smaller than a breadbox which just pisses the hell out of those other drivers.

See, AHM is tryin' to find my gift with no success. Not that I'm hard to please—fresh-cooked liver and a hot terrier babe would do the trick. But we've decided it's time to retire my favorite squeaky toy. Yes, I said Squeaky Toy. The Great and Powerful Harrison has a favorite Squeaky Toy. And I need that Squeaky Toy—'specially on days when the pups or (more likely) Maury get on my last nerve and I have to chew something since AHM won't let me chew them.

It's a Lion squeaky, but not just any lion. This is a fuzzy, stuffed pink lion with a heart tatooed on its butt (see, I have my 60's liberal, touchy-feely side too), with braided rope ties for legs and a mane that looks like an old-fashioned floor mop. He's big. He's bad. He's ugly. He's named Ted Clinton Goredean (the name gets longer every election season) and he's the perfect chew, throw, tug, and generally smack-pups-and-humans-into-line-with toy. And it seems no one makes 'em any longer. Damn. Don't know if the ole' boy's gonna' last another round with the washin' machine. He's fallin' apart faster than the Demo-cat party. Speakin' of which, AHM passed on this last year (they have new models for this year) but this could be a satisfactory replacement. Not sure who would rip it apart first, though--AHM or me.

The upside of all this shoppin' or trollin' as the case may be, is AHM and me have dug up all sorts of interestin' gift possibilities to add to my Useless Holiday Gifts Guide. Most people we know wouldn't actually buy any of these things—I mean who wants a Robopet^™ when ya' can have the real thing?

"Exclusive "Signature Series" Robopet^™ walks, jumps, sits, lies down, begs, rolls over, sniffs, crawls, runs, shakes hands and scratches with incredibly lifelike biomechanical movements. Robopet's personality is very expressive — displaying puppy-like moods ranging from friendly and curious to upset and cantankerous."

Sure, sure--like you really need a cantankerous robot. But can the sucker curl up at your side while ya' surf the 'net or be a personal foot-warmer on a cold night?

This, on the other paw, has definitely possibilities.

Some other gift stuff out there I've already dealt with—like pajamas and strollers and Poop-Freeze^tm (pu-leeze).

Now I can add dogs touchin' tunes (only $14.95 with a free DVD!) to the list.

"An easy to apply system of touching techniques. These intentional good touches are designed to bring about specific results… Touch has a transformative quality that can shift a situation. Whether you think about it or not touch does pass on an intention. The whole animal is affected from the inside out and will sense the meaning behind your touch."

Don't know if that "transformin' quality" could shift a pissed-off pit bull, but I bet it sure could transform some humans into nine-fingered wonders.

Then again, it could transform us into an Extra Friendly Dog, only $15.96 to buy what my kid Hem will do for free.

"Visitors will crack up when they meet your new dog. Strap him to a leg (or anything that's not nailed down) and watch him get busy... growing faster and noisier until he sighs."

Hmmmm… Wonder why none of our visitors "crack up" when Hem tries that?

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posted by Harrison at 2:17 PM

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…the main stream media and the entertainment industry wholeheartedly supported the United States military. They wrote the truth, good and not-so-good, made terrific movies (or so AHM says, 'cause we can't see movies real well, 'specially those oldies she's addicted to), and wrote special songs about special heroism. Songs we know somethin' about. Ya' haven't lived until you've heard us accompanyin' Kate Smith singin' "God Bless America."

[And they won't live afterward, either!—AHM]

[You just don't appreciate our unique style!—Harrison]

To continue…

One special story picked up by the entainment industry was about Chaplain ("sky pilot") Howell Forgy stationed on the U.S.S. New Orleans. As another sailor remembered:

"I turned and saw Chaplain Forgy walking toward me along the line of men. He was patting the men on the back and making [a] remark to cheer them and keep them going. I know it helped me a lot, too."….

Word got around about what the chaplin said that day, and the press started writin' about it. 'Course their sources weren't much better then, I suppose, 'cause they kept namin' the wrong chaplin—not to mention the wrong sequence of events.

Frank Loesser even wrote a catchy little tune about it…

"Down went the gunner, a bullet was his fate
Down went the gunner, then the gunners mate
Up jumped the sky pilot, gave the boys a look
And manned the gun himself as he laid aside The Book,…"

…which most people don't remember. To be fair, they sorta' remember the title…



Oh, yeah That Sunday event that so rudely interrupted the Chaplin's mornin' service?…

The Day That Will Live in Infamy. December 7, 1941.

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posted by Harrison at 12:06 PM

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Where else.

Roll out every bad joke about government regluations and apply it to this tacky tale of tape thievery.

"Two government employees were charged Tuesday with taking kickbacks on the purchase of 100,000 rolls of red tape.

"Veterans Affairs workers Joseph Haymond and Natalie Coker were arrested in Murfreesboro and charged with taking bribes for buying the tape, normally $2.50 per roll, for $6.95 each, U.S. Attorney Jim Vines said in a statement.

"The two got kickbacks of a $1 per roll for purchases made between 1999 and 2001, [Vines] said. Altogether, Haymond and Coker allegedly made $100,000 apiece on the kickbacks. Each face up to 15 years in prison if convicted."

The case got stickier when one of the pair evidently committed suicide, leavin' his partner stuck holdin' the bag.

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posted by Harrison at 6:22 PM

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Smile! You're on DogCam.

"New recruits to the Northumbria Police force are German shepherds Sammy, five, and three-year-old Zara. They have been trained to help during armed sieges and wear miniature television cameras with transmitters fitted to their heads or harnesses."

Bringin' Out Baby

"Many people treat their pets like children, but a woman is in legal trouble after calling 911 and claiming that her "baby," which turned out to be a cat named Baby, was stuck in the sewer…

The firefighters arrived expecting to find a child, but rescued the feline from the sewer anyway. Police gave the woman a ticket for making a false report, a Class B misdemeanor. "They said they were desperate, didn't know what else to do," Houston Fire Department Capt. Keith Ellery [said]. "They didn't know who else to call so they called 911. It is not the type of rescue we normally do ... but on this particular incident, we felt compelled to kind of help them out."

She's baaaaaccckk.

"[Emily the cat] had apparently wandered away from her home in late September, and found her way inside a sea container at a distribution center for a paper company. The container spent more than three weeks en route to France, much of it on cargo ships…

"Emily flew business class courtesy of Continental Airlines, escorted by company employees on the 11-hour trip from an airport north of Paris. The value of her ticket is estimated at $6,000."

Six thousand frickin' dollars—just 'cause a dumb fe-lyin' got lost. Remember that the next time you're buyin' a ticket on Continental Airlines and bitch about the high cost of flyin'.

'Course Emily's lucky. She could have ended up like Mummycat!

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posted by Harrison at 3:11 PM

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…and someone's tax dollars are playin' hard.

"It is obvious that each human considers him or herself the king of beasts and the lord of nature. Each man in his turn considers himself the sexiest creature on Earth."

This guy's been spendin' too much time with Bill Clinton

"If only people knew about sexual deeds of the animals they would restrain their ardor."

Don't think so. Seems he's forgotten humans are animals. Just 'cause ya' walk upright and talk some sort of language doesn't let ya' off the hook. (See reference above…)

"The first to start with will be rabbits, of course. For some mysterious reason they are considered the symbol of sexual unrestraint and male power. In this case, however, their fascinating reproductive abilities should be mentioned: rabbits are able to bring forth up to six times a year..."

Bring forth? Bring forth?! Try bring fifth, sixth, tenth, twentieth, etc., etc., etc. They shoot 'em out like livin' Pez dispensers!

"Nevertheless there are animals that can compete with rabbits. These are lemmings. A female lemming is able to get pregnant after only two weeks after bearing. Pregnancy lasts for only two weeks. One of the lemming couples produced eight litters in 167 days. Sadly enough, a male died afterwards…"

Probably ran off a cliff tryin' to get away from that female.

"Still there is an animal that can outdo a man. It is a true king of the beasts – a lion. A male lion held a record of 86 sexual intercourses in 24 hours."

Just call him Quick Draw McGraw.

Those scientists have given a whole new meanin' to voyeurism. They've been watchin' ladybirds, mosquitoes, sabels (who can do it for up to eight hours non-stop), hamsters, African bugs, and (believe it or not) slugs. (You don't wanna' know.)

And since I'm rootin' in the gutter…

"Police were led on a 40-minute chase through Tokyo's Akihabara electronics district after a raccoon dog [tanuki] was reported in the area and officers scrambled to catch it, law enforcers said Monday… The area where the raccoon dog was spotted was about 500 meters away from Yanagimori Shrine, where raccoon dogs, or tanuki, are revered..."

Yep—it's a real dog god; the Japanese God of Virility and Gluttony with a set a "golden balls" so they can, accordin' to yet another set of scientists, go at it hammer 'n tongs. (Ya' think there's a bunch of scientists with waaaayyy too much time and money on their hands?)

"The Tanuki is a real animal. It is often confused with the badger (ana-guma) and the racoon (arai-guma). It is neither -- it is an atypical species of dog that can grow up to 60 cm. in length, with distinctive stripes of black fur under its eyes… Scientific Name: Canis Viverriuns, Nyctereutes, Procyonoides."

And just in case ya' don't believe me, here's proof. (The one in the middle looks like Grand Dam Bitch after Thanksgiving dinner.)


Five real Tanuki feeding in garden of Dr. Gabi Greve. [Cropped and resized.]
Original photo by Dr. Gabi Greve

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posted by Harrison at 1:10 PM

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Not long ago I wrote about Francis the Talkin’ Mule who spent his time tellin’ off silly humans. It’s a safe bet if Francis was available today he’d be a blogger, but since he’s still entangled in the morass of Hollywood options, his hoofs are tied.

Still, there are so many out there worthy of Francis’ attention, I’ve decided to post the first ever Francis Award presented (occasionally) to any person who has gone below and beyond the call of jackassism. ‘Course all the good ones have already been run through the mill—Sen. Murtha, Hillary, Kerry, etc.—but here’s a local gent who deserves a good kick somewhere. (I report, you decide.)

"Richmond [VA] School Board Chairman Stephen B. Johnson last night admitted posting a bare-chested photo of himself on an explicit male-dating Internet site.

"It was stupid," Johnson said, explaining that the photo had been on the site for a "couple of days."

"Johnson's photo on [website deleted] was not explicit in nature, but the text describing him was very graphic.

"As of 9:30 p.m. -- about an hour after a [Richmond] Times-Dispatch reporter called Johnson about the Web site -- his posting could no longer be found on the site."

Now I ask you…would you wanna’ see a bare-chested photo of this guy? No word on who found the listin’ in the first place…or why they were lookin’.

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posted by Harrison at 1:15 PM

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There Are Fairies in the Bottom of My Garden*

And I’ve got ghosts in mine. Doesn’t stop me from liftin’ my leg on every rock in sight. But just in case we need more evidence of why Britain is no longer, well…Great Britain, here ya’ go.

“Villagers who protested that a new housing estate would “harm the fairies” living in their midst have forced a property company to scrap its building plans and start again. Marcus Salter, head of Genesis Properties, estimates that the small colony of fairies believed to live beneath a rock in St. Fillans, Perthshire, has cost him £15,000…

“He said: “A neighbour came over shouting, ‘Don’t move that rock. You’ll kill the fairies’.” The rock protruded from the centre of a gently shelving field, edged by the steep slopes of Dundurn mountain, where in the sixth century the Celtic missionary St. Fillan set up camp and attempted to convert the Picts from the pagan darkness of superstition.”

Well, that was obviously a failed mission.

“Then we got a series of phone calls, saying we were disturbing the fairies. I thought they were joking. It didn’t go down very well,” Mr Salter said. In fact, even as his firm attempted to work around the rock, they received complaints that the fairies would be “upset”. Mr Salter still believed he was dealing with a vocal minority, but the gears of Perthshire’s planning process were about to be clogged by something that looked suspiciously like fairy dust…

“Jeannie Fox, [community] council chairman, said: “I do believe in fairies but I can’t be sure that they live under that rock. I had been told that the rock had historic importance, that kings were crowned upon it.”…

And Ms. Fox should be crowned with it!

“A lot of people think the rock had some Pictish meaning,” Mrs Fox said. “It would be extremely unlucky to move it.”…

“The Planning Inspectorate has no specific guidelines on fairies but a spokesman said: “Planning guidance states that local customs and beliefs must be taken into account when a developer applies for planning permission.”

Think we’ve found a whole chain of missin’ links for Richard Dawkin’s theory of memes and evolution.

"There may be fairies at the bottom of the garden. There is no evidence for it, but you can't prove that there aren't any, so shouldn't we be agnostic with respect to fairies?" -- Richard Dawkins

St. Fillan he ain’t.

*Bea Lillie’s signature song from 1934.

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posted by Harrison at 8:52 PM

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