Category: Just mumbling along

Coming and going

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 2 Comments

Herself has returned from an extended visit to the mysterious East (the DeeCee-Maryland clusterplex) and so things are back to what passes for normal around the DogHaus. Rise and shine way too early, prepare breakfast, commit a little journalism, send her off to work. Someone in this family has to earn an honest dollar, and the cats don’t have much in the way of résumés. (“Eat, shit, sleep. References upon request.”)

In other news, I see Ed McMahon has gone to join Johnny Carson at the Big Talk Show In the Sky. Before he spent some 30 years sitting on that couch, laughing at Carson’s gags, he was a Marine fighter pilot who flew 85 combat missions in Korea. Who knew?

According to The New York Times, Big Ed also shined shoes, sold newspapers and peanuts, dug ditches, worked as an usher and as a traveling bingo announcer in New England, sold stainless-steel cookware door to door, and pitched a gadget called the Morris Metric Slicer to tourists on the Atlantic City Boardwalk and in Times Square. His first gigs on TV were as a clown and the host of a cooking show.

Ah, Eddie, we hardly knew ye.

This is your captain speaking

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 3 Comments

The mom-in-law (a.k.a. Herself v1.0) is getting set to jet home after visiting for the past few days, and how do she and Herself v2.0 spend the morning? Watching coverage of the disappearance of Air France Flight 477. This strikes me as not unlike preparing for surgery by reading stories about doctors absentmindedly leaving gloves and/or tools in body cavities or sawing off the wrong bits.

I hate to fly, myself. I’m not frightened by air travel — I just despise the procedure, which is reminiscent of a bad day at the Murmansk DMV. Take this off and that out, then sit down and shut up. We’ve oversold your flight, so you may be napping in the concourse for the next few days, and if we do have a seat for you you’ll find it and your plane at Gate X99. This is Gate A1. Run, you fat bastard, it’s wheels up in 30 seconds. Either that or we’ll be leaving when we’re good and ready. Have a peanut. That’ll be five bucks. Perhaps I was a feedlot cow in a previous life, being prodded down the long, shit-stained feedlot chute that eventually leads to McDonalds.

At ease

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 3 Comments
All along the watchtower, kittens kept the view.
All along the watchtower, kittens kept the view.

Whew. Long day in the old velo-barrel today. It was an even longer day for the Astana boys, who missed out on a stage win and lost more time to the heavy hitters in the Giro d’Italia. But the longest day of all may be the one spent in uniform, far from friends and family, in the company of hostile strangers. Thus we’ll raise a glass to the men and women of the U.S. armed forces tonight. May you all return safely and honorably to the Land of the Big PX. Your kittens must miss you.

Ooo, it’s all sticky!

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 3 Comments
April showers bring May flowers. May showers bring puddles.
April showers bring May flowers. May showers bring puddles.

That was Eddie Izzard talking about landing on the moon only to find it was covered in jam, but he could have been talking about Bibleburg. Except Bibleburg is more squishy than sticky, and if there were any jam lying about, the rain of the past few days would’ve washed it away, so no. Sticky? Not so much. Squishy, that’s the thing. There. Glad we’ve got that sorted out.

This would be fine weather if I were a duck, but since I’m more of a dick it’s not doing much for me. Or for the Turk’, either. I just heard a loud thunk from the living room and went in to see him affixed to the top half of the screen door, forepaws spread wide, like an inmate clutching the cell bars. “Hey, y’dirty screw, call m’lawyer! I’m innocent, I tell ya! Lemme outa here!” If the Turk’ had a spoon and opposable thumbs, he’d be digging a tunnel in a blind corner somewhere.

Speaking of prisons, The New York Times recently paid a call on Cañon City and Florence to sample public opinion about sprinkling Gitmo inmates around the various local graybar hotels. One dingbat who owns a coffee shop fears an influx of Muslims and terrorists that would drive down property values for “good Christian conservatives” like himself. Never mind that property values have already taken quite a beating from the good Christian conservatives running the country and its financial system for the past eight years.

No, by all means let’s reserve our correctional system for fine upstanding American nutbags, like Unabomber Ted Kaczynski, who enjoys three hots and a cot in the federal Supermax at Florence. At least they won’t hate our freedom, despite having none of their own.

Thumb and thumber

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 1 Comment

Y’know, it’s really pointless trying to write funny stuff for money when there’s so much hysterical free stuff already out there. Satire is a very poor second to the real deal. Case in point: Texts From Last Night. Some examples:

(859): im in a kiddie pool, high, with a keg in arms reach. If i had a sandwich and a blowjob this would be the best day ever

(312): I’m peeing chunks and puking liquid. Did I at least have fun last night?

(610): Where did you get a picture of my penis

(201): whoever gets the blood i just donated is getting a shit ton of free thc

Thanks and a big thumbs up to The Aristocrats.