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Saturday, October 08, 2005

VARIOUS & SUNDAY 

Thank God. The master plan has been righted and we have been returned to a harmonious universe where Red Sox fans employ the futility of their beloved hometown nine as an excuse for any and all manner of self abuse and general grousing about life.

Good luck next year, and the year after that, and that, and that....

Keep drinking, moaning, bemoaning, drinking, grumbling, importuning, drinking, whining, sniveling, wailing, bitching, drinking, howling and wallowing in the shared slop of self pity you thrive on.

Breaks over, Sox fans. Back on your heads.

I want to nominate my mother for the Supreme Court seat soon to be vacated by Sandra Day O'Connor. Bettie Jean is a vastly superior choice for this role and President Drippy Drawers would give himself a huge public relations boosteroo by dropping Harriet sans Ozzie in favor of a five time mother and master adjudicator.

BJ raised 5 sons, 2 male grandchildren and several dogs; what the hell has Miers done, huh? I figure that mom settled, at minimum, 7,944 disputes in the course of her 47 years on the family bench: tough, difficult cases all, usually decided by fiat but so what. That's 7, 943 more than Miers (I'll give her credit for having to decide between her conscience and her career by going to work for the Bush Mafia).

Mom is 72 years old, can hold her liquor and won't be swayed by anyone who pretends to be a Texan. She can recite Biblical passages verbatim and would have no reservation about paddling a few bottoms if she feels the need to instill some discipline among her fellow jurists. ( Oh, Mom, avoid that Thomas fellow--he might actually enjoy it).

Send the President a note (Remember to use a big, blue crayon and write carefully so he can read it) and let him know you want quality not just a crony on the Supreme Court.

How's it going Red Sox fans? Shit faced , yet? The Yankees are playing game 5 at LAA.

Thursday, October 06, 2005

WHAT IS THE DEFINITION OF 'WOOF"? 

If you've ever been entertained by the fawning, preening and generally oblivious dog owners living in Santa Monica, you've undoubtably witnessed more than one example of how not to control a canine.

Here against the Pacific, coffee shops are a favorite gathering place for well heeled dogs to parade their bipodal servants in front of other tail-waggers and since I spend an inordinate amount of time in said java emporiums (working , of course), I get to watch the entire spectrum of pet and pet owner psychology in full bloom.

Far and away, the prevailing dynamic features a pooch leading an adult human every which way it damn well pleases. If the dog wants to go left, it goes left; if it wants to chase pigeons, it chases pigeons; if it wants to scare the crap out of parents with small children, it gets to start a cry fest. If only Dolce Gabbana made choke collars for people.

I'm guessing that 1 in every 100 dogs has ever been trained beyond the requisite 'go potty outside and not on the Berber rug'.

'Sit', 'heel and 'stay' are as foreign to the local nomenclature as 'sorry', 'thank you' and 'after you'. Commands are spoken in full sentences, often paragraphs:

'Stop it, Mercedes Ferrari. You know you shouldn't take a chunk out of that King Charles Spaniel's right hind quarter. Now go apologize and offer to settle out of court."

This same creature and human returns the next day to menace other breeds and the scenario is replayed. The dog is never trained and the owner is forever looking flummoxed over the mutt's inablitity to decipher the short paragraphs of instruction that a President couldn't understand.

We can only hope they've been neutered and spaded --- all of them.

Monday, October 03, 2005

HE'S POTTED, YOU BET 

Drunks tend to become more insular and antagonistic as their drinking intensifies. They will often go to extremes to impose their will on the world, making choices and decisions that completely fly in the face of common sense and reason.

If this isn't evidence the guy is sloppy assed shitfaced, I don't know what is.

Spoke too soon--If he's this loaded, I wonder if he's been praying at the porcelein altar?

At least Clinton got a literal BJ from a 20 something year old. Bush apparently receives figurative ones from homely, desperate spinsters who'll say anything to get ahead without giving any.

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