It is the birthday of my tiny dog. She is 14 years old today.
She came to us from our local humane society when she was nine months old, having been manhandled by a three-year-old whose (infinitely stupid) grandmother gave it to her for Christmas.
She is a plucky little dog, brave, loyal and as cute as a button. Unlike most Chihuahuas, she is calm and easy-going. All she really wants is to be loved and cuddled. She is deaf now and has lost most of her teeth, she sleeps 23 hours a day, and when she is awake, she pees. She has been a joyful addition to our family.
Happy birthday, Soji. We love you.
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Long To Reign Over Us
On February 6, 2012, Queen Elizabeth II celebrated 60 years on the throne, which I, being her cousin, joyfully commemorated in a posting here. I also said I hoped she would be able to last another 3 years and 216 days so that she would overtake Queen Victoria as the longest reigning British monarch.
And today she did it.
It isn't just her longevity that will always distinguish her reign but also the dignity, poise, intelligence, and selfless sense of duty she brought to it. It was on her 21st birthday, five years before she ascended to the throne, that she made a famous speech to the Commonwealth in which she declared that her "whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service."
Happily, her life and reign have been long, and Her Majesty has fulfilled her royal promise.
God Save The Queen.
And today she did it.
It isn't just her longevity that will always distinguish her reign but also the dignity, poise, intelligence, and selfless sense of duty she brought to it. It was on her 21st birthday, five years before she ascended to the throne, that she made a famous speech to the Commonwealth in which she declared that her "whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service."
Happily, her life and reign have been long, and Her Majesty has fulfilled her royal promise.
God Save The Queen.
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
No Lots
Sometime in the last 25 years, I was talked into shopping at a store called Big Lots. It was explained to me that this particular store bought up lots of discontinued or overstocked merchandise at bargain prices, which savings were then passed on to its shoppers.
It was a terrifying experience. The store was dirty and messy, there was little or no organization to it, and many of the store's "aisles" were created by long lines of large cardboard boxes on the floor that customers were expected to paw through. I about had a nervous breakdown, as my wife described it.
I could not be prevailed upon to visit a Big Lots store again, at least not until this weekend.
Except that there were no boxes on the floor, this store was just like the other one -- messy and dirty and disorganized, and many items were clearly created for them because the Big Lots name was printed right on the packages. As if that were not enough, the prices were outrageous. One would do better at a dollar store.
Perhaps because I felt forewarned by my previous visit, I did not have a breakdown this time, and I did actually make a small purchase because they had something I can't find anywhere else.
Just now I came across the receipt, the bottom of which asks me to tell them how they are doing, and if I logged into the web site and took their survey, I could win a $300 Big Lots Gift Card. That stopped me right there. I would love to tell them what I think of them, but it would be just my luck to win the damn $300 and have to go into that store again.
And I will not. Ever.
It was a terrifying experience. The store was dirty and messy, there was little or no organization to it, and many of the store's "aisles" were created by long lines of large cardboard boxes on the floor that customers were expected to paw through. I about had a nervous breakdown, as my wife described it.
I could not be prevailed upon to visit a Big Lots store again, at least not until this weekend.
Except that there were no boxes on the floor, this store was just like the other one -- messy and dirty and disorganized, and many items were clearly created for them because the Big Lots name was printed right on the packages. As if that were not enough, the prices were outrageous. One would do better at a dollar store.
Perhaps because I felt forewarned by my previous visit, I did not have a breakdown this time, and I did actually make a small purchase because they had something I can't find anywhere else.
Just now I came across the receipt, the bottom of which asks me to tell them how they are doing, and if I logged into the web site and took their survey, I could win a $300 Big Lots Gift Card. That stopped me right there. I would love to tell them what I think of them, but it would be just my luck to win the damn $300 and have to go into that store again.
And I will not. Ever.
Monday, September 7, 2015
This is too much
There is a role-playing game for mobile devices called "The Walking Dead: Road to Survival" which is advertising itself on television with images of what I guess are the undead engaged in combat with their enemies, whoever they are, over which a male voice recites, in somber tones exemplary of melodramatic over-acting, several lines from what is probably Robert Frost's most famous and possibly most beloved poem, The Road Not Taken. There is only one very tenuous connection between the two that I can see, and that is the "road" that the game player and Frost's narrator will travel.
I am appalled and insulted by the use of something so sublime to sell something so ignoble, and if it were up to me, I would set the game makers and their admen on the road to perdition.
I am appalled and insulted by the use of something so sublime to sell something so ignoble, and if it were up to me, I would set the game makers and their admen on the road to perdition.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
And also in addition Arschbutz too
Fugitive thoughts caught up with me yesterday when a reference on a cooking show to Pork Butt made my mind jump to Rump Roast, and then I suddenly heard an anonymous but southern-drawled voice in my head saying, "Chicken butt fried in grease - want a piece?"
That led me to ruminate on the myriad names we have for that part of the human anatomy (if not that of fowl) that is medically known as nates (NAY-tees). Not a word common enough for general use. ("He fell on his nates" just does not work.)
For polite society, I suppose buttock and buttocks would come next, but those are laughable words, especially the way some people pronounce them. Then there would be gluteus maximus, too big a mouthful and actually a reference to the three muscles that comprise the nates.
That leaves the door open for so many fine names for it, and there are plenty, viz:
arse - ass - backside - back end - behind - booty - bottom - breech - bum - buns - butt - caboose - can - cheek(s) - derrière - duff - fanny - fundament - haunches - heinie - hind part - hindquarters - keister - moon - posterior - rear - rear end - rump - seat - sit-upon - stern - tail - tail end - tuchus - tush - wazoo
I presume that final word makes the list in relation to "up the" rather than "sit on."
Fundament and breech are new to me as euphemisms for the tuchus, for which I am using the Yiddish spelling.
Finally, there is no further point to any of this, or, therefore, none at all. My last random thought on the subject is that, as children, my brother and I thought that Fanny Butts was the funniest name in the universe. Maybe it is.
Okay, it's time to get my nates off this chair and go do something productive.
That led me to ruminate on the myriad names we have for that part of the human anatomy (if not that of fowl) that is medically known as nates (NAY-tees). Not a word common enough for general use. ("He fell on his nates" just does not work.)
For polite society, I suppose buttock and buttocks would come next, but those are laughable words, especially the way some people pronounce them. Then there would be gluteus maximus, too big a mouthful and actually a reference to the three muscles that comprise the nates.
That leaves the door open for so many fine names for it, and there are plenty, viz:
arse - ass - backside - back end - behind - booty - bottom - breech - bum - buns - butt - caboose - can - cheek(s) - derrière - duff - fanny - fundament - haunches - heinie - hind part - hindquarters - keister - moon - posterior - rear - rear end - rump - seat - sit-upon - stern - tail - tail end - tuchus - tush - wazoo
I presume that final word makes the list in relation to "up the" rather than "sit on."
Fundament and breech are new to me as euphemisms for the tuchus, for which I am using the Yiddish spelling.
Finally, there is no further point to any of this, or, therefore, none at all. My last random thought on the subject is that, as children, my brother and I thought that Fanny Butts was the funniest name in the universe. Maybe it is.
Okay, it's time to get my nates off this chair and go do something productive.
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Once a skeptic, always a skeptic
There are evidently people who do not believe that the New Horizons spacecraft actually flew past Pluto and sent us back pictures. They say NASA made the whole thing up and that the pictures are fake.
They are in league with the folks who think that global warming is not real, the moon landings were faked, and the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting was a hoax.
I can almost understand it. When I was in grade school in the (Cold War) 1950's, we were told that the people of Russia were oppressed by a totalitarian government and had none of the fundamental freedoms (speech, press, habeas corpus) that we have; that even though they could vote in elections, there was only one person on the ballot to vote for; that they were lied to all the time about Mother Russia's achievements in every field of human endeavor (which led them to invent television, chewing gum, and the flush toilet, or so they claimed).
There came a time, when I was about 10 or 11 years old, that I began wondering about that. What if my teacher and my school and my government were lying to me? What if we were the oppressed ones, expected to believe whatever we were told? How would I ever know?
As I got older, of course, I was able to accept the view of the world that was revealed to me, taking on faith whatever I did not know or see or experience myself.
It's highly likely that I still take a lot on faith. Like the sun will be rising in the east tomorrow.
Which reminds me of something else I heard in grade school, namely that one day the sun was going to burn out and die, and so would the planet and so would I. That scared the poop out of me, but then I learned that it wasn't going to happen for a few million years, and I felt a lot better.
Saturday, August 1, 2015
Beating the Heat
All this recent hot weather got me to thinking about a hot summer day long ago when one of my schoolmates and I decided to open a lemonade stand. His name was Jimmy, and he lived in the next block. We were probably about ten years old.
We set up shop on the sidewalk in front of his house. Instead of the traditional lemonade, however, we were purveying Kool-Aid at two cents per little Dixie Cup.
We had served several customers when a big semi-trailer stopped across the street. The driver hopped down from the cab and came over to us. He must have been very thirsty to stop at a kid's Kool-Aid stand.
He gave us two pennies, and we poured him a cupful, which he swallowed in one gulp. Obviously it didn't slake his thirst. "I'll tell you what," he said. "I'll give you a nickel for whatever is left in that pitcher."
A nickel? Zowee!
Jimmy accepted the five cents while I poured, but there wasn't enough left to fill the Dixie Cup more than 2/3 full. Jimmy immediately grabbed the pitcher and started off, saying excitedly, "I'll go make some more!"
The truck driver tossed back the contents of the cup and said, "That's okay. Never mind," and went back to his rig, climbed in, and drove off.
Jimmy watched the truck trundle down the street for a few seconds, then turned to me and said very decidedly, "That guy got gypped."
Yes, he did. Because we kept the nickel.
We set up shop on the sidewalk in front of his house. Instead of the traditional lemonade, however, we were purveying Kool-Aid at two cents per little Dixie Cup.
We had served several customers when a big semi-trailer stopped across the street. The driver hopped down from the cab and came over to us. He must have been very thirsty to stop at a kid's Kool-Aid stand.
He gave us two pennies, and we poured him a cupful, which he swallowed in one gulp. Obviously it didn't slake his thirst. "I'll tell you what," he said. "I'll give you a nickel for whatever is left in that pitcher."
A nickel? Zowee!
Jimmy accepted the five cents while I poured, but there wasn't enough left to fill the Dixie Cup more than 2/3 full. Jimmy immediately grabbed the pitcher and started off, saying excitedly, "I'll go make some more!"
The truck driver tossed back the contents of the cup and said, "That's okay. Never mind," and went back to his rig, climbed in, and drove off.
Jimmy watched the truck trundle down the street for a few seconds, then turned to me and said very decidedly, "That guy got gypped."
Yes, he did. Because we kept the nickel.
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