Who’s that dog lying next to you?

Tags

Animal, bed, dog, Jane Fonda, Lassie, mattress, Morning After, Odie, Pet, Recreation, scratch, sleep, tummy

I woke up at 3:30am last night to find a dog sleeping next to me on my bed. Now this is very unusual because I rarely get up before 6am. I should clarify that the dog was of the canine variety. I’m doing this in order to keep from receiving any angry responses from militant feminists, making an exception however for Lassie. I should mention that the dog was not unfamiliar to me, however he was not my dog. My dog’s name is Mocha and the guy in bed with me was Odie. I had turned on the light as it had occurred to me even in my Ambien induced state that there was somebody or something lying next to me. I was hoping I was not going to experience a moment like Jane Fonda had in “The Morning After” when she wakes up next to a murdered man.

I was wondering what Odie was doing next to me. However, I do sleep on a very comfortable $3000 mattress, and I believe that word has gotten out to all of the canines in the neighborhood that I have a great bed and that I’m a sucker for dogs. I cannot verify this fact, but I do believe it to be a fact. Many a morning or evening I have found a dog at my front door clutching a blanket and pillow in its mouth which I take as a sure sign that they are in the know.

So there I was in one of those awkward “it’s not you it’s me moments” not sure of how to handle this delicate situation. Some dogs do take umbrage at being moved from a bed when they are comfortable and while Odie and I know each other we are not that well versed in each other’s emotional reactions caused by such a moment. In other words I didn’t want to lose a hand in case Odie objected to being moved.

This was definitely a big moment in both my life and Odie’s life. Having rightly appraised the situation Odie rolled on his back so I could scratch his tummy. I should mention that my dog Mocha was asleep through all of this dramatic event. She is getting older and her hearing and eyesight are not what they once were otherwise I believe she would have expressed her displeasure at the situation. At that point I conceded Odie’s silent victory and scratched his tummy for about five minutes. He expressed his affirmation to this delightful doggie interlude by letting out a big sigh. I then said goodnight to Odie, turned off the light, and went back to sleep as did Odie. When I got up at 6am Odie was gone. He hadn’t even left the traditional doggie “thank you” note that is frequently found in the middle of the living room floor.

I did mention earlier that Odie and I are on good speaking terms, or scratching terms. We have known each other now for six months. I rent a downstairs apartment in a single family home and the owner occupies the living quarters above me. There are four doors that lead into my quarters and every so often various people who are unknown to me make their way into my area. I gave up trying to find out who they are a long time ago. I’m usually at my computer or in bed when they arrive. We rarely acknowledge each other’s presence. They do whatever they came to do and leave. I’m sort of a “live and let live” kind of guy and don’t want to get bogged down by unnecessary details. Currently relatives of the owner are visiting and must have opened one of the doors to my space thus allowing Odie to enter and pay me a visit.

The next time you wake up with a strange dog lying next to you in bed think nothing of it. Enjoy the moment and when you get up in the morning you’ll be certain it was a dream……..Or was it?

YIKES

Tags

comedy, criminal, fiction, humor, mystery, palin, reacher

I read a lot…Actually, I read quite a bit..I realize that’s very
poor use of the English language. However I am taking a bit of literary
license here. Frequently I’ve had to cancel dates and meetings due to
the fact that I was at the last chapter of a book I was reading.

I receive a lot of email everyday, and some of it is from
bookstores that specialize in mystery fiction, and some of it comes from
sites that specialize in matters of interest regarding mystery fiction
as well as offerings at the cinema. I opened up an email from a site
called “Criminal Element” only to be greeted by the news that Tom Cruise
has been selected to play the part of “Jack Reacher” who is the
protagonist of author Lee Child. Lee Child is published internationally
and may even be known to a few intrepid souls who will happen upon this
post. His character Jack Reacher is an ex-army officer with a
nebulous background. He somehow manages to get involved in dastardly
situations where he ends up helping the little guy out of a mess that
usually involves some really badass big guys. If you remember the
television show with the title of “The Equalizer” then that’s Jack
Reacher.

Jack is a rugged guy, what used to be called a “man’s man.” No
pretenses, no bullshit, no Ralph Lauren Polo cologne. By the way Ralph
Lauren’s real name is Ralph Lifschitz. So, let’s be honest here would
you ladies buy any designer clothes by a guy named Lifschitz? That’s
what I thought. Jack’s about 6′ 4″ tall and Tom Cruise has not been
allowed to get on certain rides at DisneyWorld due to height
restrictions. I believe that Randy Newman wrote the song “Short People”
in his honor. Okay, now that I’ve stirred up the pot I’ll just sit back
and wait for the email that says I’m prejudiced against short people.

The only choice to fill a role that was as bad as the choice of Tom Cruise to play Jack Reacher was when Senator John McCain picked Sarah Palin as his running mate. We’re still paying the price for that choice. Hopefully if there are any sequels to the movie Edward Norton will be available, or at least somebody taller than Tom who can bring Jack Reacher’s character to life.

Under New Management

On the way home today I stopped at a package goods store (liquor store) near where I live to pick up a 6 pack of beer. I’m not much of a beer drinker but I do enjoy it occasionally if I’ve been out and it’s hot and I’ve been running a lot of errands. As I got out of my car I noticed a sign across the window that read “Under New Management.” I’d never noticed it before and it did look slightly faded. However, with such startling news confronting me I decided to muster as much enthusiasm as possible regarding this event. Upon entering the store it didn’t look like much had changed since the last time I had been there. In fact the cashier was the same person who’s been there on previous visits. I wanted to get her take on the change of management and find out what improvements had been made and if so had they had a positive impact on her life. Apparently she was unaware of the change and in fact since she had a marvelous economy with her use of words the only thing she said to me was the price of my purchase and was I paying by cash, debit or credit card. Frankly I was bitterly disappointed by her less than enthusiastic response to my interrogatory (had to throw in a big word).

Over many years I’ve seen similar signs indicating a change of management has occurred at a business and I’ve often wondered just how important that message is to the buying public. As near as I can tell it really has little impact and is more of a big yawn than anything else. Now this need to advertise a change of management must have some significance to some people depending on where the change has occurred. In some situations a change is good and in some it can be bothersome. For example:

At the next Inauguration Day Republicans are hoping to put up a banner at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue that reads “Under New Management.”

Democrats are hoping to put up a similar banner on the Supreme Court, the Senate, and the House of Representatives.

A man arrives home in the evening and finds that his wife has put up a banner that reads “Under New Management.” As he gets out of his car the hunky pool boy walks out the front door. Not a good thing.

 I will need to investigate further, but for now the beer is cold and the air conditioner is working.

Phobias

Do you have a phobia? Most people do. It can be a fear of snakes, spiders, insects or anything else. I have a fear of heights which is why all my wives have been considerably shorter than me, as well as several girlfriends over the years.

In 1983 I went to Cancun, Mexico on my honeymoon. I selected Cancun because in general the people there only average about 5′ 3″ in height. About 120 miles from Cancun, or 192 kilometers for those of you who don’t live in the United States, is the famous Mayan temple at Chichen Itza. Now let’s consider a few things. First, the Mayans were essentially agrarian and nomadic. There was no MIT (Mayan Institute of Technology). Second, this temple is both a marvel of engineering and mathematics. And, on the day of the vernal equinox when the sun is at a certain angle in the sky the snake god Quetzalcoatl appears to be coming down from the top of the pyramid. So, how did these wandering farmers build this thing? They didn’t. My people did. They had a lot of experience in Egypt. Where do you think Moses was for forty years? He wasn’t wandering the desert with his people. They were vacationing in Mexico and built this thing for the Mayans in exchange for rooms with an ocean view as well as an open Tiki bar and all-you-can-eat kosher chicken wings on Friday night. This can be verified by carefully inspecting the carved figures on the outside of the temple. You can clearly see that one of them is eating a bagel.

Now you’re probably asking yourself what the hell this has to do with phobias. The answer: absolutely nothing. I was just setting up the story for my incident of phobia. People are allowed to climb to the top of the temple at Chichen Itza. However, just for a joke Moses built this thing so that the stairs were only about 10″ deep, but about 18″ high. So, when you get to the top it looks like it’s a straight drop of 300′ to the ground (I’m not doing any more metric conversions). When I got to the top I froze. I turned whiter than Casper The Friendly Ghost. I couldn’t get back down. Luckily on one side of the temple there is a vertical chain that goes from the top of the temple to the ground. However, it lies flat against the stairs. So, the only way to get down is to sit on your ass, hold onto the chain and go stair by stair down while little kids with video cameras laugh at you as they record your plight. And for those of you who like to wear shorts but are going commando style underneath you may find videos of yourself on the net in the “Girls Gone Wild” series.

Oh, Say Can You See????

I live just about half-way betweeen Washington, DC & Baltimore in a very bland enclave known as Columbia, one of the early Stepford Wives planned communities. Among Columbia’s many features is the well known “Merriwether Post Pavilion.” It is an outdoor venue where functions such as concerts and witch burnings are held almost every weekend. I live about a mile from the Pavilion, however I have never been there. I dislike large crowds of sweaty people. Not only am I just a mile from the Pavilion, but I live off of one of the main roads with exits to the Pavilion, and therefore I am directly in the sight line of activity there.

I was going home about 9:30 last night, heading north on route 29 which connects I-495 around D.C. with I-695 around Baltimore. What amazed me and was also cause for concern was the spectacular fireworks display that in effect created a nightmare situation as drivers with the IQs of turnips were pulling off left and right and stopping to watch the festivities. Now I am the first to admit that I enjoy car crashes, especially in movies or in ways where nobody gets hurt. If Heidi Klum had been in the median wearing a thong bikini, practicing tai-chi moves with a spotlight on her it would have been less distracting. Luckily my exit was close by. I don’t know if any crashes occurred involving drivers who wanted a front row seat, but I did hear several sirens from emergency vehicles for about a half hour.

Why do we still continue to celebrate July 4th? It has lost its meaning. It’s merely a reason to get an extra 10% off of something somewhere. To clarify what may be a certain presidential candidate’s potential view of this event here is my counter-balancing interpretation of history.

The Star Spangled banner was written by Francis Scott Key, a resident of Baltimore. Supposedly he was a prisoner of the British in the War of 1812 and was inspired by the flashes of light from cannons that were pounding Fort McHenry in Baltimore harbor. When the shelling was over the American flag was still standing. As the story goes Key then composed the words to our national anthem. Whoever came up with the music should have been shot for treason. Have you ever tried to hit the notes in that tune, or have you seen a video of Roseanne Barr eviscerating the anthem? Definitely not a proud moment in our history. The only other event in recent memory that I found more painful was president George W Bush waving the sign “Mission Accomplished” aboard an aircraft carrier 8 years ago to celebrate our perceived victory in what many consider an illegal invasion of Iraq. Personally, I think Key was in a bawdy house getting drunk and fooling around with Paul Revere’s horse (women were in short supply in Baltimore in 1812).

Francis Scott Key is now just a footnote in American history. However, his significance in American history still exists today. We are able to celebrate with more than just fireworks. We now have hot dog eating contests. What could be more patriotic than a hot dog eating contest in a country where more than half the population is considered overweight? As for Key himself he is forever ensconced in Baltimore today as a toll bridge that bears his name. I wonder if he would have been the winner on American Idol or America’s Got Talent? 

RIP, Oxford Comma

The Oxford Comma is now deceased. It did not rage against the darkness, nor did it expire like a patient whose life support plug has just been pulled. It went quietly without much fanfare, though it did get some press in the literary obituary column. I have utilized the Oxford Comma for years. I was never charged a royalty fee. Though I did hear rumors of lawsuits by companies that were trying to stamp out illegal “comma sharing” on the internet. The quiet death of the Oxford Comma made me pause a moment and consider where do grammatical symbols and punctuation marks go when they die. Is there a literary Heaven for such detritus that no longer is allowed to enjoy freedoms on the pages of books, Kindles, iPads, and text messages? I then paused for a moment to consider the concept of Heaven itself, a place that I shall never see based on my complete lack of qualifications for entrance into such an elite establishment.

What must Heaven be like, and I mean really be like? What about the pearly gates? Where did that concept come from, and is there a formal contingent of bouncers to turn away those souls who don’t meet heavenly muster? Is Heaven truly made up of only righteous people? And, if you’ve ever hung around righteous people how did you stifle your urge to strangle them? What would you do all day in Heaven? Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean that you don’t want something to do with all of that eternity that you have now acquired. Suppose you don’t play tennis, or golf how are you going to pass the time?

What are the qualifications to get into Heaven? Surely our Oxford Comma should qualify, but what if our Oxford Comma was used by the likes of Henry Miller, e. e. cummings, and others of that ilk? Would not spurious use of the Oxford Comma deny passage to said comma into the hallowed grounds? Or would use of the comma by Gandhi, Mother Teresa, and others of noble character balance out the ignoble writings of those less pure of heart?

The Oxford Comma may be gone, but its memory and place in history shall survive millenia. RIP, Oxford Comma. You were a faithful servant and a brilliant punctuation mark to all who sought to use you.

Of Men & Washing Machines

Countless articles and essays have been penned about the major differences as to how men women process information, and then act accordingly. Studies have shown that men will sit for hours in a gentleman’s club and sip beer while watching women in various stages of undress. While women on the other hand will not even give a two second glance to a fat guy in spandex pedaling a bicycle. It’s called “The Schwinn Factor.”

I mention the above only in relation to men and washing machines. While these convenient and once rare appliances have improved with time, men have not. We’re still as bad as we ever were. And, ladies beware the sensitive guy. He’s most likely a sociopath and on the FBI’s “10 Most Wanted” list. In being as bad as we ever were that also applies to our lack of clothes washing etiquette, or just our devil-may-care attitude about clothes washing in general.

I admit that I do not separate my whites from my darks. In a jump shot reminiscent of Michael Jordan all of my laundry, minus shirts, gets tossed into my top loading washer. Then comes the triple-gainer from the diving board as I pour the detergent into the washer without spilling a drop or splashing the walls. And in a Muhammad Ali rope-a-dope move I close the lid.

 For the first time today I actually looked at the various dials on the washing machine. In what may have been a brief migraine flash the dials started twirling around and giving off sequential bursts of light. It reminded me of a scene from “The Hunt For Red October,” Scott Glenn as the captain of the U.S. Navy submarine is preparing to fire a torpedo at the Red October. Instead of “acquiring target and getting a firing solution,” I merely got a washing solution or the concept of the ideal washing machine for men. We only need a button to push that says “fire away.”

 Men do not need a washing machine with “very small, small, medium, large, and OMG” laundry capacity settings. As much as we can stuff in there and keep the lid closed with duct tape should be the maximum capacity. As for “knits, delicates, cottons, rayons, etc” we don’t need no stinkin fabric setting. How about the buzzer that lets us know when the wash is finished? Hell no!!! When we finish the six-pack of Sam Adams, and the chips and guacamole are gone we’ll get off the couch and move the laundry to the dryer.

 As for the dryer, whoever came up with that array of in-flight instruments panel should be shoved into the dryer and made to tumble for an hour. As guys we only need two switches on the dryer: the first is a switch with just an on/off setting. Next comes the heat setting level. We only need three settings for this puppy. The first setting should only be labeled “regular.” It’s the next two settings that all men yearn to have on their dryer: “nuclear,” and “thermonuclear.” We’ve got things to do and places to go and don’t want to hang around the house waiting for a pair of “Fruit Of The Loom” briefs to dry.

Palin To Visit The Sun

Republican wingnut Sara Palin in a surprise move to outdistance herself from current Republican presidential hopefuls has announced her plans to visit the Sun. Ms. Palin said that she was recently briefed on the potential dangers to the environment that might be caused by diminished sunspot activity. She said that she wants history to remember her as “The Sunspot President,” as George Bush is remembered as “The Edjewcayshun President.” Furthermore Ms. Palin pointed out that she has more experience with the sun since it shines for nearly 24 hours in Alaska for quite awhile. And, she can see the sun from her back porch.

When Miss Palin was told that it was impossible to visit the sun due to its intense heat and radiation Ms. Palin remarked that she’d only visit at night when the temperature drops dramatically. As to radiation Ms. Palin referred reporters to the Republican Party’s chief nuclear expert, and a wingnut herself, Ann Coulter who pointed out on Bill O’Reilly’s show that radiation is actually good for you. Even Mr. O’Reilly who is himself a dittohead disagreed with Ms. Coulter though he pointed out that marshmallows would certainly toast quicker than conventional methods.

Having been recently rebuffed by the “Iron Lady” herself, Margaret Thatcher, Ms. Palin announced that she also plans to get together with the “Sun King” who resides there. She believes that he is actually Egyptian and thinks she has a good chance of solving the mid-East crisis.

Ms. Palin also announced that she is not concerned with the speed of light, but that she hopes to accurately detail the speed of dark.

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