…this is considered a "Pre-Kindergarten" toy.


Playmobil Security Check Point

The customer reviews are a howl.

On the plus side, at least this is more expensive than this.

Dug up at Dave Barry's Blog.

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posted by Harrison at 10:20 PM

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Writers always use that expression when famous people die, but in this case it’s literally true, at least for me. Two of the most distinctive voices in my life have fallen silent at the same time.

William F. Buckley, who single handedly created the modern conservative movement, was 82. As a young person I remember listening to him, fascinated with the timbre, texture, and tone of his voice, and with his remarkable accent. I hadn’t a clue why my parents watched his show, but something stuck since I cannot recall a day in my adult life when I haven’t had strong conservative opinions. As George Will said, “Before Ronald Reagan, there was Barry Goldwater, and before Barry Goldwater there was National Review, and before there was National Review, there was Bill Buckley, with a spark in his mind.”

At the opposite end of the spectrum is Myron Cope, the screeching, nails-on-chalkboard-voiced announcer for the Pittsburgh Steelers. He was already established as color commentator for Steelers games when I arrived in the ‘burg, just in time for the 1972 Steeler/Raider playoff game—and the legendary Immaculate Reception.

"His creation of The Terrible Towel has developed into a worldwide symbol that is synonymous with Steelers football," Steelers chairman Dan Rooney said… “[Many times] The Terrible Towel got us over the goal line.” The towel is arguably the best-known fan symbol of any major pro sports team, has raised millions of dollars for charity and is displayed at the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

I still have one of the original, 35-year-old Towels. And it still works its magic.

~AHM~

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posted by Harrison at 2:20 PM

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On Saturday, March 1, a race will begin that pits humans and dogs against the wilds of nature for almost 1200 miles over two weeks. It's called the Iditarod®.

  "The Iditarod Trail, now a   National Historic Trail, had its   beginnings as a mail and   supply route from the coastal   towns of Seward and Knik to   the interior mining camps at   Flat, Ophir, Ruby and beyond   to the west coast communities   of Unalakleet, Elim, Golovin, White Mountain and Nome. Mail and supplies went in. Gold came out. All via dog sled. Heroes were made, legends were born."

Think Super Bowl, World Series, and Stanley Cup all in one—with dogs.

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posted by Harrison at 11:19 PM

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Staff Sgt. Iron

"Staff Sgt. Iron quakes with fear at the sound of explosions. He brawls with other soldiers. He whines when he doesn't get his way and slows others down when he stops to relieve himself during patrols through hostile territory.

"But nobody complains, because when it's time to enter a building that might be rigged to explode, or cross a pasture that could conceal a minefield, Iron is at the front of the line, making sure it's safe for those who follow.

"If it's not, Iron will bear the brunt of the blast, along with his best friend, Sgt. Joshua T. Rose, who ranks one level below him…

"Rose and Iron are one of about 200 canine teams deployed in Iraq, where the bond between soldiers and their dogs is so deep that some handlers have asked to be buried with their canine partners if they are killed together…

"Should dogs be wounded or fall ill, they are given immediate care. Handlers are trained to provide basic treatment until the dog can be taken to a military veterinarian… Severe cases are flown to Germany. This happened with Rose's last dog, Rex. In 2005, Rose and Rex were providing security at the Baghdad trial of former Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein. One day, Rex wouldn't eat. Rose knew that when his 105-pound German shepherd didn't eat, something was wrong. He had him checked by a military veterinarian in Baghdad. The diagnosis was cancer. Rex was dying. He was flown to Germany and euthanized.

"But Rex's memory lives on at Ft. Riley, Kan., home to the Army's 1st Infantry Division and Rose's home base. At the base, dogs have a place to play. It's called Rex's Bark Park."

Nubs

"It began with a simple act of kindness to save an abused, injured dog from becoming one more victim in the Iraq war. But what followed for Marine Maj. Brian Dennis and the mutt was a tale of friendship and loyalty that spanned miles, borders, and overcame long odds — a tale that took a turn Friday afternoon when the dog arrived at San Diego’s Lindbergh Field airport."

Dug up at Kelly the Little Black Dog's blog

Mama and Boris

"It isn't the homecoming they expected. Fulfilling the final wish of their fallen soldier, a grieving family expects some comfort today when his two dogs arrive at their doorstep straight from the front lines in Baghdad…

"But today, the halfway-around-the-world odyssey of Mama and Boris will end when a rescue group delivers them to Neesley's mother, Christine. It will be bittersweet. Her son is never coming home. The animals he loved are."

Charlie

"One night, while on guard duty with the US Armed Forces in Iraq, Sgt. Watson’s squadron returned from patrol with a new buddy. Weak, malnourished, and at death’s door, a black and white puppy had decided to adopt the soldiers of the unit known as Charlie Company. Sgt. Watson wrapped the shivering puppy in a blanket, gave it some clean water, a portion of his own rations, and provided what refuge and comfort he could for a poor life he expected would sadly end in a few days – another innocent life cut short in a harsh and unforgiving environment. But the puppy rallied back, thriving on the care, attention and affection of Sgt. Watson and the members of his platoon.

"Soon Charlie [named after the military unit] was the company’s mascot, companion, and four-legged morale booster. Brought back from the brink of death, Charlie has come to represent hope and stands as a living symbol of the power of love and compassion over war and despair.

"US Military Units are constantly on the move so, before Sgt. Watson and his men are forced to abandon their mascot to certain homelessness and ultimate starvation, Charlie needs transport to the United States…"

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posted by Harrison at 10:45 PM

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We've got two new neighbors 'round here. I don't know 'em very well 'cause I'm not a whip-up-a-dozen-liver-cookies-and-stop-in-for-mornin'-coffee kinda' guy. First there's that opposable thumbs issue when it comes to makin' anything. Second, if I could whip up a few dozen liver cookies, I'd eat 'em myself! Anyway, based on experience, I'm not sure we have anything in common, 'specially with the second newcomer.

We encountered the first newbie, Silly, durin' our evenin' perambulation. We learned his name 'cause his humans tried callin' him back when he came bouncin' and yappin' across his yard toward us. He ignored 'em like any self-respectin' terrier would if their humans named 'em "Silly." Even Yorkies have their pride, ya' know.

Gotta' say Silly had an interestin' welcome-the-visitors technique. He would bounce a few feet, come to a sudden stop with his forepaws firmly planted on the ground and his butt half in the air, then yap three times. It took him so long to cover the distance to the street we sat down to watch the show. Bounce, yap, bounce, yap, bounce, yap. Then, miraculously, he managed to judge his very last bounce right to the edge of the grass and gave out three more yaps.

We all stood up and stretched to the end of our leashes ready to do the touch noses routine. Little Girl barked a very polite greetin'. Big mistake. Silly promptly reversed gears, bouncin' and yappin' backwards 'til he got to his own stoop. So much for the meet 'n greet thing.

After a fleetin' moment of silent awe at that backwards bouncin' feat, we went on our way, snickerin' and wufflin', and figurin' we wouldn't see Silly again anytime soon. Wrong. We musta' been on the same schedule 'cause we were treated to the same performance every night we took our walk, weather permittin'.

Speakin' of which our weather's been doin' its own bouncin' around, from 72 degrees to 27 degrees and back again. 72 is just fine but 27 creates somethin' AHM calls "black ice"—the see-though stuff that makes the road look like it's been hit by the mad Simonizer. You really gotta' watch where ya' walk or you'll be auditionin' for the role of Pluto in Disney On Ice.

Guess Silly didn't have black ice wherever he came from.

There we were, on one of the 27 degree nights, doin' our sniffin' and markin' thing across the street from Silly's, and here he comes, bouncin' and yappin' across his yard. 'Cept this time he went a little too far on his last bounce. This time Silly landed on the road beside his yard. More precisely, he landed on the black ice along the edge of road beside his yard.

Geronimo!

He slid a few feet in the paws-splayed/butt-up position, lookin' like a hairy stone in a curlin' match. Then his rear just sorta' collapsed. He tried sittin' up, but that just made him spin sideways like Bambi. All of us naturally leaped to help him, but AHM stopped us before we could join in. Probably figured we'd use him for a hockey puck, which, I will admit, did cross my mind.

Silly took one look at all of us waitin' for him at the edge that little ice rink and rightly guessed we weren't there to give him 6.0s on his triple-triple combination. So of course he tried to back up. That's when the dog-claws-on-ice effect kicked in. All four feet went in opposite directions and there was no stoppin' him 'til his feet finally hit dry asphalt. That is to say his front paws stopped. His back end slewed into his front and he went over on his nose in slow motion. Little Girl woo-wooed in sympathy and stuck her muzzle under his butt to help him up. Evidently that's not in the Welcome Wagon guidelines.

For a little guy, Silly sure can move fast.

We figured that was it for new neighbors until a coupla' nights later when we met…

The Stepcat.

(Continued in Read the Rest!)

We call him The Stepcat 'cause that's where we found him. (I'm usin' "him" for convenience since we never got close enough to determine the appropriate gender.) 'Course he wasn't on just any ole' steps—he was on our steps. Makes ya' wonder if fe-lyings have any sense of smell, doesn't it?

Anyway, out we come for the evenin' stroll and bam! There he is, just sittin' and pretendin' he belonged. We stop and stare 'cause we're waaaay too surprised to actually attack (not to mention that pesky short leash problem). 'Course Stepcat fuzzes out 'til even his ear tuffs are rigid. We take one step forward and growl. Stepcat backs down one step and hisses. Down one, growl; back one, hiss. Down one, back one. Growl, hiss. The eternal canine/fe-lyin' rumba. The tension finally gets to us and we all bark at once. Stepcat goes straight up in the air, off the end of the stairs and vanishes. Since we could see he was wearin' a bright red collar, we figured he was headin' home.

Mission accomplished.

Until we got back, that is. Now Stepcat was at the top of the stairs waitin' for us!

That was too much even for AHM. She let us loose enough to charge the fool. Stepcat went over the rail, across the drive, and up a tree.

That should have been the end of it, right? Noooooo. We'd been inside for about fifteen minutes and suddenly heard a faint mer-rroooowwww from the dark. We tried to ignore it, but there was a second one, then a third and a fourth and a...well, ya' get the idea.

Enough already. We had to look, so AHM opened the door and we all braved the blast of cold air to peer out. We could smell him, but there was no sign of Stepcat. At least not at our eye level. Then AHM spotted him—still in the tree.

There is nothin' more irritatin' than a cryin' fe-lyin' ('cept for cryin' Demo-cat voters). Not only did this particular fe-lyin' have no brains and no sense of smell, he apparently had no idea how to get out of the frickin' tree! Boy, could we have used Dad right about then.

Since we couldn't listen to that crap all night, AHM climbed back into her winter gear, dragged out the stepstool, hauled it to the tree, and climbed up like some demented Good Samaritan. Stepcat was 'bout as appreciative as you'd expect. Soon as she got close enough to reach up, the little ingrate leaped on her head, then her shoulder, then the ground. Soft ground plus small stepstool multiplied by abrupt change in weight and equilibrium equaled AHM hangin' from the nearest branch swearin' worse than a whole pack of alley fe-lyings.

You humans really know how to look stupid.

Think that was the end of it? 'Course ya' didn't or I wouldn't be writin' about it. A couple of days later StepCat was back, hangin' around the walk this time. That was one seriously intellectually disabled fe-lyin'. AHM wasn't payin' attention and we almost got him. But he got away. Up the tree. Again.

Instant replay on the meowin' routine. But at least AHM didn't use the stepstool this time, decidin' the paintin' ladder was safer. StepCat waited 'til she got all the way up, then leaped right over her.

We all decided AHM was getting' sillier than the fe-lyin', 'specially when…

…yeah, yeah. A week later. Redo.

Okay, not quite a redo. When we reached the fe-lyin'-up-a-tree-mer-rroooowwww-ing stage AHM stalked off and began rummagin' through some storage boxes. When she came back…

Well, there was no stepstool this time, and no paintin' ladder. AHM marched out to where StepCat was going' through his pathetic pussy routine and unloaded on him with a full blast…

…from a Super Soaker.

Can't say I'm gonna' miss the little yowler.

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posted by Harrison at 11:09 PM

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I was puttin' together a post about Black Dog who worked the lines for the Lighter Than Air airships of the navy when I dug up this tale over at the Straight Dope message board. Black Dog can wait. Ya' gotta' get over there now and read. Ummm…ya' might wanna' put down your evenin' libation or mornin' coffee—dependin' on when ya' read it. If ya' don't you'll be cleanin' up a big, big mess!

The story begins with an innocent toy for the writer's 3-year-old daughter—at least until bedtime when the vagrancies of a hot air central heatin' system and a fat little dwarf readin' Penthouse create an attackin' force Hitler would've envied.

"Last week while travelling I stopped at a Zany Brainy store and saw that they had a blimp for sale. It's called Airship Earth, and it's a great big balloon with a map of the Earth on it, and two propellors hanging from the bottom. You blow up the balloon with helium put batteries in it, and you have a radio controlled indoor blimp."

[…]

"Without volition I screamed my battle cry (which is indistinguishable to the sound a little girl makes when you drop a spider down her dress (not that I'd know what that sounds like,) and lept out of bed in my underwear.

"I struck the approaching menace with all my strength and almost fell over at the total lack of resistance that a helium balloon offers when you punch the living shit out of it with all the stength that sudden middle of the night terror produces."

*From a comment by the author.

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posted by Harrison at 10:39 PM

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Cat? Evil? D'uh.

"[Dominic Tallant] was left in hospital on a drip after a vicious [cat] ripped open a vein on his arm… Wife Lisa…said: “It is an evil cat. If it was a human it would be a drug dealer or something!”

Cat? Condom? Eeeewww.

"When it rains it pours, they say. In my case, it purrs. The last few days have brought me wild feline cases—and the one I’m about to relate was the wackiest I’ve seen in weeks. Yes, it involves a condom—really."

Cat? Fat? Demo-cat. (The pic was too big to fit here.)

"A massively overweight fat cat has been put on a strict diet after getting stuck in his flap. Vets were amazed to see the six-year-old had piled on the pounds since his last visit, tipping the scales at almost two stone - three times the size of a normal cat."

Cat? Container? Road Trip!

"A cat named Meatloaf who took a 3-week cross-country ride locked in a storage container is headed home to Florida. Arizona Humane Society officials say the 2-year-old gray cat apparently crawled into the large locker in Pompano Beach, Fla. as a man loaded it for a move to Phoenix."

And a fish called what-eeeever it wants.

This sucker has more teeth than I do.

"A savage fish that eats everything it comes across, including people, has been hooked by a British fisherman — sparking fears of a deadly invasion. The giant snakehead, originating from South-East Asia, has a mouth crammed with teeth. It’s deadly in the water, but it can also “crawl” on land and survive out of water for up to four days."

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posted by Harrison at 11:05 PM

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Skunks. Why'd it have to be skunks? Bonus to this story…the man owned a pest control company.

"After capturing and releasing a skunk Thursday, [Frank Wykofka] was killed when his SUV went off San Dimas Canyon Road and plunged into the San Dimas Reservoir, officials said. Family members became worried when Wykofka didn't show up for work at Gaston Termite and Pest Control in San Dimas, which he owned…"

At $15,000 per, whoever got paid for this job is smilin' like, well, a Cheshire you-know-what.

"Legislation protecting endangered newts is to be challenged after Cheshire County Council spent £60,000 moving four of the creatures."

Slim Jims and a firehose. That's how to handle a fe-lyin'.

"Firefighters from the South Florida city of Weston spent a sopping hour in pouring rain Tuesday trying to extract a kitten squeezed in the undercarriage of a stranger's Volvo… At some point, the cat escaped undetected, prompting the crew to spend another hour peering in bushes and scouring a Walgreens parking lot…

"Five hours after the saga began, the elusive cat reappeared: At the station, in their fire truck's rear wheel well… [T]he crew resorted to an ultimately successful three-pronged strategy: One firefighter poked the feline in the backside with a Slim Jim, another used a hose to force it into an open compartment so a third person could pull it out."

Remember all those scary stories 'bout the elderly havin' to eat pet food 'cause the eeeeeevil pharmacy companies were overchargin'? Well, accordin' to this guy, that's not necessarily a bad thing.

"Like a seasoned wine taster, Simon Allison sniffs and peers at the product he is testing. Then he samples a soupcon, noting the blend of flavours and aromas… Only when he is completely satisfied will Marks & Spencer put the dish on the shelves - among the pet foods… "The more we can make the pet food like the owner's food, the more comfortable we think customers will be serving it."

Note to Marks & Spenser: Whatever you're payin' him, I'll do it for free!

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posted by Harrison at 11:10 PM

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…or at least until they call the Vice Squad.

While we were pawin' through various blogs, we ran across this post at the Border Collie Blog that had AHM chucklin' for half a day. Not that she's ever had these kinds of shoppin' problems bein' a female 'n all. But I guess a "…six foot tall barrel chested man with a beard…" has different issues.

Just for the record, Border Collies are good people. When you're in show biz it's tough to find other canines with an intellectual capacity equal to mine. 'Course they can be incredible show-offs in Obedience class.

[Not to mention always scoring higher than you. ~AHM]

[So they sit neater than I do. ~Harrison]

[And they don't sit up during heeling exercises. ~AHM]

[Yeah, that was a real crowd-pleaser wasn't it? ~Harrison]

[The judges weren't laughing when they handed out the points. ~AHM]

Getting' back what I was sayin'… Next time ya' see a big guy buyin' three cases of Depends, it might not be what ya' think.

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posted by Harrison at 12:08 AM

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Last weekend Siggy posted a bunch of great pictures of painted buses. AHM says they're somethin' called tromp l'oeil which is French for "trick the eye." Hmmmm… Those French poodlettes can be pretty tricky all right—'specially that hot little black number I met out in Beverly Hills…

[She's probably a grandmother with a couple dozen grandkids by now. ~AHM]

[Well, thank you for wreckin' that fantasy. ~Harrison]

And speakin' of fantasies…this is probably every city dog's fantasy.

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posted by Harrison at 9:45 PM

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"Barking and baying up a storm, Uno lived up to his name Tuesday night by becoming the first beagle to win best in show at the Westminster Kennel Club.

"The nation's new top dog was clearly the crowd favorite, and drew a standing ovation from the sold-out crowd at Madison Square Garden when he was picked. Uno got right into the act, jumping up on handler Aaron Wilkerson and confirming his other title: noisiest in show.

"The only dog consistently listed among America's most popular breeds for nearly 100 years, a beagle had never won in the 100 times Westminster picked a winner. That changed when judge J. Donald Jones pointed to this nearly 3-year-old package of personality.

"Good ol' Snoopy, a champion at last."

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posted by Harrison at 12:17 AM

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Today is National Pancake Day! Only six more hours (Eastern time) to get your free short stack at IHOP.



Lemme’ at ‘em!!

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posted by Harrison at 3:45 PM

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And don’t take this personal.

Haflings “The Harpoon” Harrison

Dug up at Dave Barry's Blog.

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posted by Harrison at 3:05 PM

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Since AHM's recoverin' from whatever bug that's currently sweepin' the nation, I've gotta' limit my commentary on recent Republi-canine/Demo-cat political developments to this:



Dug up at Mostly Dogs Blog

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posted by Harrison at 11:25 PM

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(Getty Images: Donald Miralle)


Congratulations Giants!

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posted by Harrison at 11:32 PM

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Super-Sticky Post-its

Even a dog can't stomach this Super Bowl.

"…the dog didn't swallow all of the tickets, so his owner [was] able to be a replacement pair."

Here's a unique way to get those steaks for your Super Bowl grillin'.

[Tonya Coccia ] suddenly found an unexpected passenger in her back seat while driving home with her daughter after running a simple errand. [She] said the street was dark when she suddenly saw cows that had wandered out onto the road from a nearby farm. She swerved, but hit two of them. One was a massive Black Angus… The cow had flipped over the roof of the car, gone through the back window and landed in the back seat.

And, just a quick reminder before the…ah…"game":

It's easy when ya' cheat.

"A member of the New England Patriots' video staff taped the St. Louis Rams' last walkthrough before the 2002 Super Bowl, a Boston newspaper reported Saturday. The NFL, however, said it was satisfied this was not another Spygate. "We were aware of the rumor months ago and looked into it. There was no evidence of it on the tapes or in the notes produced by the Patriots, and the Patriots told us it was not true," NFL spokesman Greg Aiello told The Associated Press."

For anyone out there who reeeeaaally believes New England would hand over the proof of their cheatin' (or actually keep the evidence for six years), well, I got a bridge I'm sellin' on Chappaquiddick Island.

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posted by Harrison at 1:53 PM

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