PETA and Westminster
Yesterday’s Westminster Dog Show erupted in chaos. No, Spuds McKinzee wasn’t defiling the pure-bred bitches—although he is a pure-bred himself. It was much worse. Two well dressed ladies entered the Westminster ring, walked up to the podium where the Best of Show winner would later be announced, and held up their signs that said, “Mutts Rule,” and “Breeders Kill Shelter Dogs’ Chances.”
The media is saying it was part of PETA’s way of raising awareness for shelter dogs. PETA denies being part of the act, but they do condone the act.
As far as the Westminster goes, I have to say that I’m guilty of watching way more hours of that show than a straight man should admit to. I really only like the sporting dogs, the working dogs and the hound group—which might be part of the sporting dogs, I don’t remember. The point is, I can’t believe that a dog show has become so big. Fifteen thousand people attended the show and millions more watched it on TV. Although I didn’t see it because I was too busy watching the Olympics, which was just as gay as watching the dog show—men’s ice skating was on last night.
“Breeders Kill Shelter Dogs’ Chances.”
Here’s the straight- poop on getting a cheap pure-bred dog. Go to petfinder.org and look around. You can get any kind pure-bred dog you want as long as you’re willing to drive a little bit. Your new dog will be from a rescue, so you can feel good about that. The rescuers will have worked with the dogs trying to make sure they are potty trained and that they don’t have worms or heart disease. Another good thing about rescues is that most are honest and will tell you exactly what is wrong with the dog before you agree to take it. This is because they don’t want to have to take the dog back and start the whole process over again.
You might not be able to get any breed of puppy you want from a rescue, but believe me, puppies are overrated. If you want to get up twice in the middle of the night to let your dog out to pee, then get a puppy. If you want your shoes and furniture tore up, then get a puppy. If you have tons of energy and want to take your dog for two or three, thirty minute walks a day, then get a puppy. If you don’t want to do all this, then get an adult rescue dog.
We got my dog Harley, an Italian Mastiff, from a rescue. He’s a brindle and from the side looks like a tiger. To get a “flashy brindle”—a breeder’s words not mine, an Italian Mastiff would cost you $1500-$2500. We had to pay a $200 adoption fee and drive about 75 miles to pick him up. I can honestly say he’s the best dog I’ve ever had and I’ve had about ten dogs growing up. So, “Yes, Mutts Rule,” but “Breeder’s Don’t Kill Shelter Dogs Chances,” it just gives cheap-asses like me more options.
If you want more on the story you can check out the link:
http://msn.foxsports.com/nascar/story/Westminster-dog-show-best-in-show-021610/?gt1=39002
My First Patient
I’m a volunteer writer at a local hospital. I work with hospice patients by writing down their stories. I write anything from essays to letters to their family, to life lessons they’d like to pass on to their kids and grandkids.
People go into hospice every day, but with the amount of paperwork and other things on people’s minds, they rarely ask for me.
I haven’t been doing this for very long, only a couple of months now. The other day I got my first assignment. My director called and said that there was a gentleman who lived in the same area that I worked in and could I call him. She said that he has pancreatic cancer and probably wasn’t going to make it too long. Then she said, “He has a son in prison and I think he wants you to write him a letter.” She knew I had worked for the Department of Corrections.
I called the family and talked to the wife of the patient. I explained what I do and asked if her husband would be interested in talking with me. She said, “Let me call you back.” She didn’t, so I called her back the next day. She said it nicely, but in point was received, “I’ll call you if we need you.”
So I left the family alone and after two days, my first patient died. When my director called to give me the news, I tried to explain myself, “Well I called. Twice. I mean the lady didn’t call me back. So I called again and then she said she’d call me if they needed me, but she never called back.”
Gently my director said, “It’s ok. Not everyone wants help. I just wanted you to know.”
“Oh, ok,” I said.
After I hung up the phone, I looked out the window. Snow covered the courtyard. The red brick walls surrounding it made me think of my first patient’s son sitting in prison. He’d probably be finding out the news about the same time as me. Would he be placed on a suicide watch? Having to be stripped of his clothes and dignity, and placed in a “coffee filter” suit. That’s what we used to call the white paper “suicide” suit. The material’s so thin you can see through it, but this way the prisoner can’t hang themselves with it. Necessary, but not comfortable.
I thought of how ironic it would have been, to receive your last letter from your dad written by a Corrections Officer. Would it have mattered? I’m sure it wouldn’t have. The letter would have been more invaluable than any amount of money you could have put on his commissary sheet. It could have helped heal old wounds, put old dogs to rest, and gave forgiveness. But none of that happened, because not everyone wants help. I just wanted you to know.
Really Khole?
I would like to say Happy Valentine’s Day to you if you don’t have someone besides me to say it to you.
To the rest of you, do you know what I would never give my wife for Valentine’s Day? A video of me posing naked…or for that matter, a video of me doing anything around the house naked.
For one, there’s all the hair. Secondly, we have a big bay window in our front room and I don’t think the neighbors would appreciate that.
So now that I’ve sampled the crack that is called the Kardashians, I can’t stop noticing the new commercial that has Khole giving her man (who ever he is) a video of her stripping. Obviously she hasn’t heard of videos leaking on the Internet. Oh wait, that’s the reason their famous in the first place. Good luck with that Khole.
Krazy Kourtney
I have never watched Keeping Up With The Kardashians until today. I know, I’m a full two seasons late. But there wasn’t anything else on today before the Olympics started, so I said, “What the hell?”
Once I turned on their show, I couldn’t turn it off for the next two hours. The only reason I didn’t watch it longer was because it happened to be the last two hours of the marathon.
Ray-J, thanks for giving us a look at what Kim can do, but I’ll take Kourtney; baby or no baby.
New iPhone App.
I’m checking out the new iPhone WordPress App. It’s like carrying a mini-computer in your pocket.
I’m Cured
Ok, so I’m not dying. It only took the real doctor about five minutes to diagnose what caused my three day headache.
The doc asked, “Any recent weight gain?”
“Well, I had a baby about four months ago,” I said.
“You mean your wife had a baby four months ago,” he said.
“Well yeah, that’s what I meant. But in the last year I’ve gained fifty pounds from eating like her,” I said.
“So you’re blaming your pregnant wife for your weight gain?” he said.
“Well she’s not pregnant anymore. And no, I’m not blaming her at all. I’m just saying I was eating like her, that’s all.” I said.
“I see. Do you snore?” he said.
“Yeah. My wife wakes me up all the time bitchin’ that I’m snoring too loud,” I said.
“Does she say that you stop breathing as well?”
“Yeah, she said she’s scared I’m going to die. I mean, I have life insurance and everything so what’s the big deal?”
He looked at me blankly and said, “Ok, so you have hypertension caused by sleep apnea. You need to drink at least 60 ounces of water a day and 60 ounces of juice or Gatorade that has electrolytes.”
“That’s 120 ounces a day! What about tea and Diet Coke?”
“Yeah you can drink that, just don’t count it toward the 120 ounces of water and Gatorade,” he said.
“You also need to start exercising at least three times a week. And you’ll need to do a sleep study.”
“I do exercise two or three times a week,” I said.
“Thinking about exercising three times a week doesn’t count. How many times actually exercise a week?”
“Ok. It’s like one to three times a week,” I said.
He just kept looking at me.
“Ok fine. It’s like once a week,” I said.
So basically water and exercise is supposed to cure me. Wouldn’t the pharmaceutical reps be pissed if they knew this real doctor was prescribing water and exercise as a cure all to hypertension? They’d probably try to have his license yanked. Looks like life’s still a giant treadmill and I’m not getting off it anytime soon.
H1N1
I had two flu shots this year. One shot for the regular flu, the other for H1N1. If I didn’t have the H1N1 shot, I’d swear I have it. I’ve been having headaches, chills and generally feeling like crap on and off for two weeks now, but I haven’t had a fever.
I thought I may need new glasses since I was having all these headaches, so I went to the eye doctor today. He gave me a bunch of tests.
He pulled down the machine with a gaggle of lenses, started flipping them like a black jack dealer and said, “Which one’s better, one or two?”
“One,” I said.
“Which one’s better, one or two?”
“Two.”
“Which one’s better, one or two?”
“Uhhhh…one,” I said.
After we did this about ten times, he said, “Nothing’s wrong with your eyes. Go to a real doctor and get checked out you might have the H1N1 virus.”
I said, “I already was vaccinated for that.”
“You never know,” he said. “Go to your real doctor anyway.”
Then I thought to myself, maybe I ought to have my real doctor check out my eyes while I’m there. Even my sister who has a Ph.D in Psychology would never say she isn’t a real doctor and she doesn’t even wear a white lab coat like this guy was.
So I called my real doctor to make an appointment and his secretary said, “I’m sorry but he’s on vacation, but there’s an attendee here. Would you like to see him?”
“Is he a real doctor?” I said.
“Yes, of course he’s a real doctor,” she said.
“Oh ook, because I’ve been having headaches and I think it might be the H1N1 virus, even though I’ve already been vaccinated, and need him to check my eyes too because apparently they’re letting anyone call themselves and eye doctor these days,” I said.
“Huh?” she said. “What about the H1N1 virus?”
“Never mind,” I said. “Believe it or not, my headache’s gone.”
Super Bowl Commercials
Well the game yesterday turned out to be a lot better than I expected. It was a close one most of the game. Our party is filled with good cooks, so the food was great as always. And this year, no chairs were thrown and there was hardly any screaming at the TV.
In Super Bowl tradition, there were some good commercials. What I didn’t get was all the commercials with guys walking around in their underwear. There were at least three different companies selling stuff this year with guys walking around in their underwear. The only company I can remember off hand was Coke. I think the other one may have been Monster.com. Either way, I don’t want to see out of shape, middle guys (or girls for that matter) walking around in their whitey-tighties and granny-panties.
Regardless of all the new fun commercials, the commercial that had our Super Bowl party talking was for a local roofing company called John Beal. The commercial was so cheap and nothing short of corny, but that didn’t matter. Why? Because we couldn’t even hear what the commercial was saying because we were all screaming, “What the…? How in the hell did they get a spot on the Super Bowl.”
My friend who works in radio gave us the obvious answer, “Well they probably have a couple of local spots available.”
“Yeah we figured that Eienstien,” a friend yelled. “But how in the hell did they afford it, even being a local spot?”
I can tell you this much, it wasn’t because they spent a ton of money on production. So here it is in all its glory, the cheapest commercial of the Super Bowl. Enjoy.
Super Bowl Sunday
Today is the Super Bowl, it’s The Saints vs. The Colts. I think The Saints are getting the sympathy vote from most of the country. But I really could care less about the Super Bowl this year. I’m only going to a friend’s party for the food. Well, that and to watch him get mad and scream at the TV, like that’s really going to help the player running the ball.
“RUN MOTHERFUCKER RUN!!! I SAID RUN!!! WHY CAN’T THAT MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE RUN THE BALL?!”
“I don’t know John, maybe it’s because those other three big motherfucking assholes just knocked him on his ass and then piled on him. Either way, he can’t fucking hear you!”
It’s been our yearly tradition for about six or seven years now.
One of the best parts of the Super Bowl are the all new commercials that come out. This year will be bitter sweet for me and millions of other St. Louisians watching our beloved Budweiser commercials. They’re usually the best commercials of the game. Hopefully this year they won’t be in Dutch.
I’ll try to keep you updated on the commercials tomorrow. Maybe add a few of the better ones when they get posted.
If you’re a free speech advocate, here’s a link to an interesting story that unfolded Friday in New Orleans. Apparently a kid in New Orleans was sent home because he wore a Colts jersey to school. They were having a Wear Black-and-Gold day at school and relaxed the “no-jersey” policy for the day. This kid, being from Indiana, wore his Colts jersey. The ACLU stepped in, fighting ensued, blah, blah, blah…
Here’s the link if you want to know more about it:
http://outofbounds.nbcsports.com/2010/02/post-206.html.php
What the…?
Test, 1.2. test, test. Freestyle typin, you know I feel ripe’n because I ain’t skyp’n…ok that’s it on the freestyle typing. (This is my first real post on my brand-spanking new WP blog. The rest were imported from my old blogger.com account.)