Fe-lyin' See, Fe-lyin' Do
I debated 'bout usin' a more familiar expression for the title of this post, but decided I didn't need some thin-skinned Obamanic freakin' out. Besides, y'all know what I really mean to say.
Anyway, it seems the Mutt and his Muttettes have finally made The Big Decision to copy Senator Teddy and get a Portuguese Water dog. Specifically a rescue Portuguese Water dog which is almost impossible. Hopefully dog lovers everywhere will rush to the nearest shelter to rescue every one of 'em from the dire fate of bein' "adopted" by the Mutt et al.
But, in true fe-lyin' form, the decision is still not a final decision…
See. There's not a Demo-cat in the world who can make a decision without a loophole—aka plausable deniability.
Hmmmm… Sounds like the Mutt's political plan to me. No wonder they're "leanin'" in that direction.
'Cuse me? They can be up to 60 pounds. It's gonna' be a moose! If she can't accept that, maybe the Muttess better give up on the whole getting'-a-dog idea.
Which brings me back to that "plausable deniability" issue:
And the wheels of the bus go 'round and 'round.
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posted by Harrison at 11:14 PM
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Anyway, it seems the Mutt and his Muttettes have finally made The Big Decision to copy Senator Teddy and get a Portuguese Water dog. Specifically a rescue Portuguese Water dog which is almost impossible. Hopefully dog lovers everywhere will rush to the nearest shelter to rescue every one of 'em from the dire fate of bein' "adopted" by the Mutt et al.
But, in true fe-lyin' form, the decision is still not a final decision…
"Temperamentally they're supposed to be pretty good," [Michelle Obama] said. "From the size perspective, they're sort of middle of the road – it's not small, but it's not a huge dog. And the folks that we know who own them have raved about them. So that's where we're leaning."
See. There's not a Demo-cat in the world who can make a decision without a loophole—aka plausable deniability.
Portuguese Water Dogs are a fairly rare breed similar to poodles that have become popular in recent years because they don't shed. They are native to Portugal's coast, where they have been used by fishers to herd their catch into nets.
Hmmmm… Sounds like the Mutt's political plan to me. No wonder they're "leanin'" in that direction.
But the name is still a source of familial tension in the White House. "Oh, the names are really bad. I don't even want to mention it, because there are names floating around and they're bad," Mrs. Obama said. "I think, Frank was one of them. Frank! Moose was another one of them. Moose. I said, well, what if the dog isn't a moose?"
'Cuse me? They can be up to 60 pounds. It's gonna' be a moose! If she can't accept that, maybe the Muttess better give up on the whole getting'-a-dog idea.
Which brings me back to that "plausable deniability" issue:
People Magazine's interview with Michelle Obama, which suggests that the First Family is looking for a rescued Portuguese water dog that is "old enough" and a "match" for the family dynamic, may not be quite accurate, her press secretary Katie McCormick Lelyveld said today. The Chicago Tribune reports: "They have not selected a breed," Lelyveld said. "Mrs. Obama likes the Portuguese water dog, but she is only one of four votes. Their primary focus now is that they get a dog that works with their lifestyle."
And the wheels of the bus go 'round and 'round.
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posted by Harrison at 11:14 PM
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Saturday, February 21, 2009
Lyin' on My Back, Watchin' TV
It's no better upside down.
While AHM was sick—which we decided had somethin' to do with the recent tragedy in Washington since the barfs hit her barely a week after the official wake—we spent a lot of time on the bed watchin' television. Considerin' every channel was broadcastin' the demolition administration in the makin', she got hooked on Home & Garden Television. (We just went along 'cause she had the remote and no one had the nerve to try stealin' it.) Anyway, it was sorta' like watchin' American Idol auditions non-stop. Not that we ever watched that show. (Well, okay, we did a few times, but the pups' improptu sing-alongs didn't add a thing to the sound track so we had to give up.)
But that week showed us all just how we ended up with that pile of doo-dah in the the Oval Office. I can't imagine findin' a bigger collection of helpless, hopeless, lazy, whiny people—'cept in a votin' booth last November. Every last one of 'em is doin' their best Vincent Price imitation from The Fly—("Help me…help me…")—with a dash Jerry Maquire ("Show me the makeover!").
F'instance. On one gardenin' show, a couple of twenty-somethin' twits begged the host to tell them what to do 'bout a bunch of juniper bushes along their walk. ("They're spiky and prickly and we don't like them.") 'Scuse me? Get a terrier. We'll have 'em ripped out in no time, 'specially if ya' drop a fe-lyin' or two in the middle of 'em first. Or…and here's a novel idea that never seemed to occur to the fools…get a shovel and dig 'em up yourself.
Then there's the programs featurin' the space-challenged who just can't figure out that twenty-seven foot, over-stuffed, black-leather sofa/recliner/Titanic wanne-be planted in front of the 64-inch teevee isn't quite the thing for a twelve by twelve condo livin' room. (Personally I like those things—it's like livin' with a giant chew toy—'til it starts blockin' the route to the food bowl.) Anyway, the owners are always so surprised when the host/decorator tells 'em it's gotta' go. Wow. Geometry is hard.
On the other paw, there are the spoiled brats lookin' for a new house and yowlin' 'bout not likin' the color of the walls. Ya' just wanna' slap 'em outside the head with a loaded paint brush. And the people tryin' to sell their places while lettin' the house fe-lyin' lounge on the kitchen counters are just as bad, 'less the fe-lying's there to prove there's enough room to take a swing or two.
The trendy slang is good for a howl, though. Everything has to "pop," as in "Wow! That fourteen foot orange wall makes this room 'pop'." Yeah. Right. (I'm thankin' the dog god my eyesight is color-impaired.) And ya' can't forget the holy grail of kitchens—Stainless Steel Appliances. Sleek and shiny and just waitin' for a canine with mirror issues. They have no clue what snotty dog noses (or kid hands) can do to a stainless steel finish…
Finally there are the Pretentious Im-Provers—liberals all. In fairness, ya' never quite know who's to blame for this stuff—the homeowners who decided their place should be the only Roman Coliseum in the neighborhood or the designers who talked 'em into it. Two things are always prominent in these scenarios—Stone, with a capital "S," and A Water Feature, which usually takes the form of a koi pond, aka fe-lyin' happy-huntin'-grounds. That water business gets stuck in almost every landscapin' show, which I can't figure. I've got just one word for 'em—mosquitoes.
By the time those Pretentious Im-Provers are done, a perfectly good grassy yard suitable for squirrel huntin' and fe-lying tacklin' has been stoned, bricked, pebbled, benched, trellised, and barbecued out of existence. And they still manage to cram in A Water Feature.
Now I'm not sure those people are a good sample of the average American. I am guessin' they all voted for The Mutt 'cause now that they've wasted their savings and equity on improvements the next thing they'll be wantin' is a mortgage bailout.
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 10:28 PM
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While AHM was sick—which we decided had somethin' to do with the recent tragedy in Washington since the barfs hit her barely a week after the official wake—we spent a lot of time on the bed watchin' television. Considerin' every channel was broadcastin' the demolition administration in the makin', she got hooked on Home & Garden Television. (We just went along 'cause she had the remote and no one had the nerve to try stealin' it.) Anyway, it was sorta' like watchin' American Idol auditions non-stop. Not that we ever watched that show. (Well, okay, we did a few times, but the pups' improptu sing-alongs didn't add a thing to the sound track so we had to give up.)
But that week showed us all just how we ended up with that pile of doo-dah in the the Oval Office. I can't imagine findin' a bigger collection of helpless, hopeless, lazy, whiny people—'cept in a votin' booth last November. Every last one of 'em is doin' their best Vincent Price imitation from The Fly—("Help me…help me…")—with a dash Jerry Maquire ("Show me the makeover!").
F'instance. On one gardenin' show, a couple of twenty-somethin' twits begged the host to tell them what to do 'bout a bunch of juniper bushes along their walk. ("They're spiky and prickly and we don't like them.") 'Scuse me? Get a terrier. We'll have 'em ripped out in no time, 'specially if ya' drop a fe-lyin' or two in the middle of 'em first. Or…and here's a novel idea that never seemed to occur to the fools…get a shovel and dig 'em up yourself.
Then there's the programs featurin' the space-challenged who just can't figure out that twenty-seven foot, over-stuffed, black-leather sofa/recliner/Titanic wanne-be planted in front of the 64-inch teevee isn't quite the thing for a twelve by twelve condo livin' room. (Personally I like those things—it's like livin' with a giant chew toy—'til it starts blockin' the route to the food bowl.) Anyway, the owners are always so surprised when the host/decorator tells 'em it's gotta' go. Wow. Geometry is hard.
On the other paw, there are the spoiled brats lookin' for a new house and yowlin' 'bout not likin' the color of the walls. Ya' just wanna' slap 'em outside the head with a loaded paint brush. And the people tryin' to sell their places while lettin' the house fe-lyin' lounge on the kitchen counters are just as bad, 'less the fe-lying's there to prove there's enough room to take a swing or two.
The trendy slang is good for a howl, though. Everything has to "pop," as in "Wow! That fourteen foot orange wall makes this room 'pop'." Yeah. Right. (I'm thankin' the dog god my eyesight is color-impaired.) And ya' can't forget the holy grail of kitchens—Stainless Steel Appliances. Sleek and shiny and just waitin' for a canine with mirror issues. They have no clue what snotty dog noses (or kid hands) can do to a stainless steel finish…
Finally there are the Pretentious Im-Provers—liberals all. In fairness, ya' never quite know who's to blame for this stuff—the homeowners who decided their place should be the only Roman Coliseum in the neighborhood or the designers who talked 'em into it. Two things are always prominent in these scenarios—Stone, with a capital "S," and A Water Feature, which usually takes the form of a koi pond, aka fe-lyin' happy-huntin'-grounds. That water business gets stuck in almost every landscapin' show, which I can't figure. I've got just one word for 'em—mosquitoes.
By the time those Pretentious Im-Provers are done, a perfectly good grassy yard suitable for squirrel huntin' and fe-lying tacklin' has been stoned, bricked, pebbled, benched, trellised, and barbecued out of existence. And they still manage to cram in A Water Feature.
Now I'm not sure those people are a good sample of the average American. I am guessin' they all voted for The Mutt 'cause now that they've wasted their savings and equity on improvements the next thing they'll be wantin' is a mortgage bailout.
Read the rest
posted by Harrison at 10:28 PM
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Saturday Morning Cartoon
From my newest favorite comic site—Tundra by Chad Carpenter.
Dug up at LawDog
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posted by Harrison at 8:34 AM
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Saturday, February 14, 2009
Catchin' Up
After two weeks of bein' sick as a fe-lyin', AHM is in catch-up mode. Things'll be slow considerin' she's gotta' play catch-up at work too, but fortunately she's got friends who email her interestin' stuff. Considerin' the tragedy that just occurred in Congress, this tidbit is not as funny as it should be.
Be back soon…
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posted by Harrison at 10:50 PM
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A young lad named Ben from Genesee, ID bought a horse from a farmer
for $100. The farmer agreed to deliver the horse the next day. The next day, the farmer drove up and said, "Sorry son, but I have some bad news. The horse died, today."
Ben replied, "Just give me my money back."
The farmer said, "Can't do that. I went and spent it already."
"OK, then, just bring me the dead horse," Ben said.
The farmer asked, "What are you going to do with him?"
"I'm going to raffle him off."
The farmer said, "You can't raffle off a dead horse!" the farmer replied.
Ben said, "Sure I can. Watch me. I just won't tell anybody he's dead."
A month later, the farmer met up with Ben and asked, "What happened with that dead horse?"
"I raffled him off. I sold 500 tickets at $2 apiece and made a profit of $898," Ben explained.
"Didn't anyone complain?" the farmer asked.
"Just the guy who won. So I gave him his $2 back."
Ben grew up and now works for the government. He's the one who figured out how this bailout is going to work.
Be back soon…
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posted by Harrison at 10:50 PM
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Sunday, February 01, 2009
Six Pack
"Brownie, you're doing a heck of a job."
From The Anchoress
Havin' lived through ice storms and hurricanes, we lucked out on two fronts—three if ya' understand AHM knew the wisdom of buyin' more than bread and milk when the warnings were issued: 1) a wood-burnin' fireplace with plenty of wood and 2) the sheer number of warm bodies plied together. You've heard the expression three-dog-night? We had seven-dog nights and no one bared a tooth.
Yep, Brownie's doin' a heck of somethin'-or-other.
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posted by Harrison at 7:54 PM
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Americans are freezing and dying but I guess I’ve missed Anderson Cooper flying to the midwest and crying and Geraldo shouting, “where is the help?” I guess I’ve missed members of the press demonizing President Obama for eating steak and having cocktails with the press while people are freezing and without food.
Havin' lived through ice storms and hurricanes, we lucked out on two fronts—three if ya' understand AHM knew the wisdom of buyin' more than bread and milk when the warnings were issued: 1) a wood-burnin' fireplace with plenty of wood and 2) the sheer number of warm bodies plied together. You've heard the expression three-dog-night? We had seven-dog nights and no one bared a tooth.
Why is this going on for almost a week without the president going in there and fixing everything? It’s been way more than 100 hours! Where is Obama? Why does the government not show us what is really going on? Where are the pictures of stranded people? We want to see the pictures! People have died! Show us the bodies!
Yep, Brownie's doin' a heck of somethin'-or-other.
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posted by Harrison at 7:54 PM
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Game On
'Course it's gonna' be a little frustratin' after the Mutt couldn't keep his big yap shut. Last I checked the Prez was supposed to root for everyone—even if the other team does come from your opponent's home state. (Anyone know who W was rootin' for over the past 8 years?)
Ya' know, after the Big Yapper came out supportin' the Steelers to win, the fan sympathy/support across the country switched dramatically from the Steelers to the Cardinals. Yeah, football fans are like that…
I know Steelers fans, Muttsey—
they're friends of mine—
and you're no Steelers Fan.
At least not 'til you've listened to this for a coupla' decades.
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posted by Harrison at 12:03 AM
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