Tags: Books, Cooking, dogs, food, Humor, publishing, Reading, Writing
(Check out the Halloween Party recipes at the end)
“Party? Did you say… Party?” I asked.
“You’re out-of-order, Sandy.” Peter the pointer, chairman pro tem of this morning’s meeting of the Canine Chowder & Ham Bone Marching Society, gaveled me down with a throaty growl. Hey, I couldn’t help myself, I’m a party animal!
“Lighten up, Peter,” Lucy said in her cock-sure cocker spaniel way. “This is a really a big deal. My human says this is going to be a HUGE party. Really, HUGE! She says she’s combining Octoberfest with Halloween. She’s calling it, “Octoweenfest.” She paused, basking in the magnificence of her announcement, waiting for all the woofs of delight. Fat chance of any of we girls giving her the satisfaction. The boys did, of course. “Everybody is to come in costume and to bring a dish.”
“And,” Barbie her twin sister added, “All the costumes are supposed to be original. I’m coming as Lady Gaga, in a plastic imitation meat dress.”
“What are you bringing to eat?” Heintz asked.
“Lucy and I are serving Ken-L-Ration a la king.”
“How plebian,” Fifi our resident poodle and snob opined. “I’ll bring either escargo in a kibble gravy or filet mignon stuffed with Begin Strips.”
“What are you going to come dressed like?” Sparkle asked while flicking a flea from her red Irish coat.
Snookie the lab moved her muzzle close to my ear and whispered, “I here-by volunteer to operate the guillotine.”
I couldn’t help chuckling. Everybody turned to look, but luckily, Manny unwittingly came to my rescue.
“Oh…oh…oh…oh, I’ll bring the tequilla chimichangas, 100 proof specials with jalapenos and tabasco sauce,” Manny said. The little guy was so excited that, from the tip of his chihuahua tail to the tip of his chihuahua nose, he vibrated like one of those toys I hear are sold in disreputable catalogs. I don’t know that! I just heard about them! On page 76 of the… aaaaaaaaaaaaaa let’s move along.
“What are you coming as?” Lucy asked.
“A…a…a…a, a drug runner!” Manny said.
“Oh, that’s in really poor taste, Manny.” Barbie looked disgusted.
“A…a…a…a, an illegal alien!”
“That’s too common, and in poor taste, try again,” Lucy suggested.
“A…a…a…a, a dancing senorita!”
“I don’t think you can get the surgery in time,” I said. “Why not get a close hair cut and come as a Mexican hairless?”
“Okay…okay…okay…okay.” Manny is very cooperative. And, maybe not so smart.
“Well, Boog and I have our costume covered.” Our resident beagle, Boob, smiled at her son who grinned in response. “Boog will wear his gray sweater with the mathematical symbol for 3.1412 printed on it and I’ll wear my pumpkin orange tube dress.”
“I don’t get it,” Sparkle said.
“Why, we’ll be symbolically dressed as pumpkin pie.” Boob snuck a pity peek at Sparkle. The red-head is a little slow. And they talk about us blondes.
“What are you bringing to eat?” Heintz asked.
“Road-killed rabbit in wine sauce.”
“Good,” Heintz looked at me in his “mutty” way and asked, “What are you wearing?”
”I’ll come as Sandy Claus. You know, red hat trimmed with white fur and black boots.” I think the boots are stylish and sexy.
“What are you bringing to eat?” Heintz asked.
“It’s a surprise,” I don’t like Heintz when he gets pushy. I asked, “Okay, what dish are you bringing, Heintz?”
“A really smart dish.” He gazed upward, trying to look aloof.
“Like what?” I used his own words like a sword…I thought.
“Why, an empty one. Why would I want to lose the space to put all the goodies you folks are bringing?”
Everyone laughed, but me. I tried again. Heintz is notorious for his lack of taste…in clothes, or anything else, so I asked, “describe what your costume is going to look like.” I figured I’d get even.
“Oh…It’s one of those symbolic things. I’ll have two arm bands on. One with a swastika printed on it and the other with a hammer and sickle. There will be a string tied to the base of my tail. To the other end of the string, about six inches from where it’s attached, will be a large Idaho Baker.”
“Don’t you get it?” Heintz leered. “I’m going to be a Dick-tater.”
“I recommend we adjourn,” my friend Sarge said in his deep German shepherd voice.
“Second,” said Lucy.
“Adjourned.” Peter didn’t bother with the formality of a vote. Too much planning is a human thing.
Oh……in case you were wondering what my finger food was, try spicing up your Octoweenfest table with these goodies. Serve with a placard explaining what they are.
Head of Ghost. (per each)
1 – slice of provolone cheese
1 - slice of pepperoni
1 – ripe olive
Cut ripe olive in two and place on cheese slice for eyes. Place pepperoni in proper position to be a mouth. Walla! A ghost head.
Eggs, mustard, mayonnaise, sweet pickle relish, S&P - What do you have? Deviled Eggs….BUT, add red food color to the deviled portion before stuffing it back into the whites. Then cut a green olive with pimento stuffing in two in a manner that the red is the center. Place the olive half on the egg and Walla! Bat’s eyes!
Lady fingers. (per each)
1/2 hot dog
1 thin sliver of radish skin cut in an elliptical shape.
1/2 slice of sandwich bread with crust removed.
Remove a small slice of the cooked hot dog on the round end approximately 1/2″ x 1/2″ and about 1/8″ deep. Cut a sliver off of the radish the same size or slightly larger. Place the radish slice, red side up, on the hot dog where the piece was removed. Put catsup in the center of the bread, 3/4″ wide by 3″ long. Place the hot dog with radish side up in the middle of the catsup. Walla-Walla…You have a lady’s finger complete with polished nail and blood!
Tags: animal tales, Books, Current events, dogs, Entertainment, Fox & Friends, funny stories, holidays, Humor, Labor Day, life, Media, publishing, Reading, Writing
Labor day is over, thank goodness. It’s a holiday that marks a lot of changes where I live. For example, hurricane season is about half over. Hurricane season is something you feel a lot better worrying about as it goes away, rather than the dread of facing the season’s start. Its one of those least worst situations; like voting for a politician in an election.
After Labor Day, cool weather is on the way. Hooray. Anticipating that makes me smile. Human’s think they suffer in the heat. They moan and groan like a bunch of puppies whose mother has decided to shut down the milk bar for a while. I’d like those two-legged complaint machines to walk around in a full-length fur coat like mine, during August, and watch them swelter.
Ahhh changes! We’ll have less rain, less mosquitoes, less humidity, more camping trips, more people returning to the ‘hood, and more time outdoors.
It marks change all over as I understand. Other parts of the country see changes in their weather, kids go back to school, and humans change what they wear. People are getting ready for elections that they hope will make changes. Why, I’ve even noticed that some folks sigh and become more business-like in everything they do after Labor Day.
I’ve wondered, why do they call the holiday Labor Day? No body works on that day. Why not call it No Labor Day? Or something more appropriate like, Things Are Going To Change Day?” The name didn’t make sense to me. Human’s do many strange things, like throwing away perfectly good bones or driving four blocks to the store for a loaf of bread, then spending a half hour on an exercise machine to lose weight, so little they do surprises me. Or should…….
Though I should have known better, I decided to ask the Geezer, “Why do you humans call the first Monday in September, Labor Day?”
The Geezer grinned, “Lets see, Sandy. The simplest way to explain it to you is that its a day set aside to honor the working man.”
I hate it when someone who isn’t any more intelligent than I am “talks down” to me! You know, like when a politician speaks to you humans. I fired back, “Oh, how about working women? How was it set aside? Did you do it with a bulldozer? Crane? What?”
“Sorry Sandy.” The Geezer had his I stepped in it this time look firmly affixed to his face. Unlike a politician, the Geezer is smart enough to know when he’s insulting the individual he’s addressing. “I owe you a decent answer. You have to know a little history to understand why they named it Labor Day. Mind?”
I sat down, swept one paw across my chest and bowed at the same time. “Proceed,” I said and resigned myself to one of the Geezer’s long-winded dissertations.
“It originated back in the 1880′s.” The old boy changed his look to his Geezerpedia countenance. “There was a lot of turmoil between labor, business, and government. Trouble boiled over and some union people were killed by government forces. Grover Cleveland was president and he wanted to defuse the strife. He quickly ran a bill through Congress declaring a holiday to recognize “the contributions that labor makes to our country.” Eventually, the September date chosen was one celebrated by a New York union. It became the national holiday we celebrate today. It was supposed to be day of rest and relaxation. Parades and speeches were a big part of the celebration in its early years, but they’ve faded. The picnics, sporting events, and the last hurrah to summer just evolved.”
“That makes sense,” I observed. “Well partly. A lot of the things you humans do on that day aren’t rest and relaxation. Running in races, swimming, playing volleyball, and things like that are…. strenuous.”
“Remember what Mark Twain said.” The old boy likes to quote Twain. The writing giant is one of the Geezer’s favorites. “Work is what one is obliged to do and play is what one desires to do.” The Geezer did his best to look literary. “That’s why sitting at a desk doing accounting is considered work, while risking life and limb in a strenuous effort to climb a mountain is considered play.” The literary aire faded and he looked like plain old Sam Clemons when he added, “That’s probably not the exact quote, but you can go to Tom Sawyer and look it up if you want.”
I nodded and smiled. The more time I spend around humans, the more inconsistent and difficult they are to understand. Straining the Geezer’s meager mental machinery wouldn’t enlighten my old friend. How do you explain to unthinking creatures that resting means going to a big cushion and laying down, not cashing cats in the hot sun? The strange thing is that the species can make up clever tidbits, like that Twain fellow did, that almost make sense of their weird, irrational behavior. Marathons? Football games? Parades? Yard work? Badminton? Is that rest? You think?
The Geezer did try to placate me and I appreciated that effort. To a degree….. I started to make a snide remark, to tell him that he was sounding like a politician, but I couldn’t do that. There are some insults you just can’t inflict on a dog or even on a human.
Tags: animal tales, Books, dogs, Entertainment, Fox & Friends, funny stories, holidays, Humor, life, Media, New Years, publishing, Reading, Writing
Well, old 2009 will be leaving us soon. My canine friends and I consider it an alright year. No new houses were erected on the street so our romping areas remained in tact. Bones still taste the same. The Chinese didn’t put bad stuff in our food this year. The politicians haven’t passed a dog turd or farting tax — yet. Rabies is down, neighborhood dog population is up. All is right with the canine world or at least its nuetral.
My human is glad to see old 2009 leave. The Geezer said, “It started bad, but everyone hoped for lemonade. All they got were lemons.” He looked wise and said, “Promptly at midnight I’m going to the toilet and flush it. Hopefully, anything hanging around from 2009 will head down the drain.”
Since 2009 wasn’t the best for my human friends and just so-so for my canine buddies I decided to make some wishes for 2010.
For Manny the chihuahua – Longer legs or more shorter women in the ‘hood.
For Mrs. Zoomers – Shades that automatically go down on her windows when she undresses.
For Gertrude the dachshund – Longer legs or less steps to climb and a bell on Manny’s collar to warn her when he’s coming.
For the man who lives next door – A beer truck of his very own.
For Giselle the greyhound – A rabbit that’s runs slow enough for her to catch.
For Mrs. Gator – A TV remote that only works for her.
For Heintz the mongrel – For the pizza delivery boy’s pepper spray can to always be empty when he delivers.
For the Geezer’s friend Harry – That the next woman he marry’s divorce lawyer to be incompetent.
For Barbie and Lucy our twin cocker spaniels – Matching boyfriends to match their matching food dishes, their matching rhinestone collars, and their matching neurosis.
For Sparkles human – A really big one! I’m not sure what the big one she’s looking for is, but I sure hope she get’s it so she stops talking about it.
For Sparkles the Irish setter – A bottle of whiskey, alka-seltzer, and a gag for her human.
For Melissa Mrs. Gator’s friend – To be sure to read the labels on restroom doors before she enters
For Fifi the poodle – A groomer with less of a warped sense of humor.
For Dick the post man – A rear view mirror that doesn’t black out the mail boxes.
For Sarge the German Shepherd – For his human to leave him with us for a weekend. WOOF! WOOF!
For the Geezer – Either a TV that only broadcasts good news or less things to throw at it.
For all dogs – Loving humans for them to own, lots of roadkill, a bones stimulus-bailout program, and flea eradication.
For all humans – Smooth seas if you sail, clear skies if you fly, level roads if you walk, and honest politicians if you vote. I at least had to put in one impossibility.
To all HAPPY NEW YEAR !!!
Tags: animal tales, Books, Christmas, dogs, Entertainment, Fox & Friends, funny stories, holidays, Humor, life, Media, publishing, Reading, Writing
Christmas is coming with all the seasonal movies, songs, and stories that add meaning and warmth to the celebration. Humans have their “It’s a Wonderful Life,” “White Christmas,” and “A Christmas Carol.” We have our canine art forms written, performed and produced by great canine literary figures. Who can forget “A Canine Family’s Christmas” starring Rin-Tin-Tin, Lassie, and Toto, directed by Michael Mutt and produced by Cecil B Wienerhound. Or that classic composed by Irving Boxer, “I’m Dreaming of Turkey Left-overs.” crooned by the all-time woofer, Bling Cocker. My personal favorite is the traditional poem written by our immortal bard Fidofus Spot Shakestail, “T ‘was the Canine Night After Christmas.”
T ‘was the night after Christmas
and the humans were done,
leaving the scene
for us dogs to have fun.
The house guests left early
with mess all around,
unaware that we dogs
in the middle would bound.
There were napkins to chew
and cookies to eat
and broken presents
that were hard on my feet.
Glasses full of liquor
sat on the floor.
I gave out with a snicker
as I nosed over more.
Under the tree
there was something for me.
A tasty new slipper
and a fruitcake I found,
which the cake– it was harder
than the slipper to down.
The living room air
that once was so fair,
now to be most honest and very clear,
was thick with the odor of stale farts and beer.
My tongue was engaged
with the dip for the chip
when I spied our cat Rufus
rolling in tinsel from whisker to hip.
After that rascal I went with a bound
sure that I’d catch him, but sadly I found,
stopping on floors that were made very slick
just wasn’t something a dog can do very quick.
The sturdy green pine with balls blue, red and gold,
went to the floor like a paper you’d fold.
I was in trouble, I knew when on went the light.
The master came running, he was primed for a fight.
But as he surveyed me and the riotous scene,
The most he did muster were words most obscene.
I heard him exclaim as he went to the rear.
“Where in the hell is the Pepto my dear?”
Ere he went into the bedroom and out of sight,
he mumbled softly like a moth in full flight
“There are some things that happen
you can’t face at night.”
You just can’t beat the works of the old masters.
Tags: animal tales, Books, dogs, Fox & Friends, funny stories, holidays, Humor, life, Media, publishing, Reading, Thanksgiving, Writing
(A note from the Geezer – sometimes fact is stranger than fiction and more gross.)
Thanksgiving taught a friend of mine a lesson, one that I hope I’ll have the good sense to learn from. I met Manny, the neighborhood chihuahua, on the Geezer’s and my morning stroll. He looked glum, and past hello, he didn’t have a thing to say. Now, that just isn’t Manny!
When we wandered a few feet away from where the Geezer and Manny’s human were talking, I asked, “Hey, Manny, what’s happening? You seem down.”
“I am. It’s my humans. They are being so unfair.”
I know Annie, his primary human, and I can’t imagine her being unfair to anyone. “Oh, how’s that?” I asked suspiciously. Manny has been known to bend the truth. Well, crumple and stomp on it is closer.
“They have me on indefinite time out. I’m exiled from the dining room. It was all because of football, Thanksgiving, and chairs that weren’t pushed in. They forgot their own words. It’s all the humans fault, not mine.”
That made me more curious. “What exactly happened?”
“It all happened so fast, but I’ll tell you the best I can. I was in the kitchen watching Annie cook. It smelled so good it had a hypnotic effect on me. Yes, that’s it. I hadn’t thought about that. I was temporarily insane. Anyway, everybody else was watching TV. I followed her from kitchen to dining room as she moved one wonderful aroma producing dish after another to the big table that humans gather around. Finally, she carried this huge plate with a gigantic brown lump on it and put it in the center of the table. It smelled familiar.”
“Really? Like what?” I asked.
“Like my supper does sometime. I have to tell you it made me drool. Carumba! It wasn’t fair. I’ve heard Annie tell her own children not to do what happened next.”
“Oh?” I prompted.
“Si.” Manny mixes in some Spanish when he gets excited or upset. “Many times I’ve heard her say, don’t leave the chair pulled out if you don’t want Manny to get in trouble. It will be your fault as much as his. But it was Annie who looked at me as she pulled out a chair from under the table. It was as though she was saying ‘come on big boy’. Well, at that instant one of Annie’s guests stuck her head through the dining room entrance and said, ‘Come quick, the kickoff is in a few seconds’. They left.”
“When she pulled the chair out, you sure she wasn’t getting ready to sit down?” I asked.
“I never thought of that.” Manny had a guilty look on his face. “Anyway, it smelled so good and I thought leaving the chair there was an invitation for me to look. And, maybe grab a little snack. I gathered all my strength and jumped onto the chair, put my front paws on the table, and looked out over that fruited plain.” Manny got tears in his eyes, “Oh, Sandy, it was like getting a chance to peek into heaven before dying. All that good-looking and great-smelling stuff piled in humongous dog dishes. And…and…and in the middle was that huge golden brown mound. It had legs and wings and…and…and, now, I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but I swear I could hear it saying, ‘Manny, eat me’…no dog could resist that. None! None! None!” Manny’s voice was getting shrill.
“Calm down, Manny. You don’t want to have a break down,” I said.
“Gracias.” He paused to compose himself. With a big sigh he continued, ”It was too much for me. I knew I shouldn’t, but that mound kept calling. Finally, I reasoned that no one would ever know, and if they did, I could blame Herman the cat. He does those kind of things. What would one little bite hurt?”
“You got on the table, didn’t you.”
“Oh, yes, but it was so hard. The table, she was very crowded. To get to the mound I had to wade through a bowl of stuff that looked like snow, but was warm with a lump of yellow in the middle. And then through a swamp of green cut up plants with white juicy goo around them. My paws sunk so deep my belly rubbed. Finally, I made it to the huge pile. The smell, if you only knew, que lastima! I couldn’t resist. I bit into one of the legs. Turkey! It was so good! Then I tried some of the top. I had to crawl up on the bird to get a bite, but I did. Fantastic, absolutely fantastic. It was so good I had to tell the world. I barked, ‘this is super great shit!’ It only took seconds for the humans to rush into the room. They were really mad!”
“What did you expect?” I said.
Manny looked sheepish and shrugged his shoulders. “I was standing on top of the bird and Annie was carrying Herman so that excuse was gone. I was scared. They rushed the table. But, it was what happened next that really made them furious. “
“I yelled, ‘the devil made me do it,’ around a mouthful of white meat.”
I looked at Manny dubiously, “Come on, what else?”
“Well, I have this weak bladder…”
I’ll spare you the remaining details. However, when he’d finished his tale I asked Manny, “Did you learn anything from all that?”
“Three things. First, never lie with your mouth full of white meat. Second, never brag about something you’ve done, while still close enough to get caught. Third, never take a human at their word.”
Manny did learn some good principles, however, he missed what might be the most important…”Never drink too much before you eat.”
Tags: animal tales, Books, dogs, Entertainment, Fox & Friends, funny stories, Halloween, holidays, Humor, life, Media, publishing, Reading, Writing
I asked a simple question, “Why are our humans making all the fuss over this Halloween thing?” It created a spirited discussion between the neighborhood canines.
Of course, Barbie, one of our ’hood cocker spaniels, started talking before I finished. She’s the know-it-all that every street has. “It has to do with scaring away dead people. Halloween is the day that the dead come back to life and parade around. Humans get all excited and scared. They dress up so the dead won’t recognize them and come and eat them.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Manny the chihuahua said.
“Human poop, it has nothing to do with the dead. It comes from a Christian religious celebration called All Saints Day,” Sarge our resident German Shepard said authoritatively.
“He’s right,” Manny agreed.
“Wait a minute.” Fifi the French Poodle looked skeptical. “Let me understand. People dress up like all kind of creatures that do horrible things to celebrate a religious holiday? Yeah. Sure. If you believe that I’ve got a space ship in my human’s garage that’s shaped like a boat I’ll sell cheap.”
“She’s probably right,” Manny had second thoughts.
Baseer our Afghan said, “You don’t know about these Christians, they can be violent. Now take us non-violent Muslims–”
“He’s got a point,” Manny chimed in before Baseer finished, but he didn’t look sincere.
“You’re all full of it! It’s a capitalist plot to sell candy and teach their young how to extort goodies from the proletariat! Read Marx.” Lucy is Barbie’s twin sister, but boy do they see everything different.
Manny asked, “Which Marx?”
“Harpo,” Lucy said with certainty, but added, “Groucho was a major contributor to the theory.”
“Oh, okay,” Manny said.
“I don’t believe this. Can’t you see this is all a vast left-wing conspiracy? The Commies are collectivising our young human people. Soon they’ll have them singing songs about the glory of the Great Pumpkin in class. Brain washing, I tell you.” Sparkles Irish blood wasn’t settled.
“You have a point, too,” Manny observed.
I cleared my throat and said, “Hummm, if I understand you all… Halloween is holiday that humans celebrate to scare away evil spirits, based on religious tradition observed by some and not others, that some don’t believe in at all, and its a day the young humans are exploited by business, but also a day that two guys named Harpo and Groucho brainwash human kids into being like the Borg in Star Trek.”
“Who said anything about the Borg or Star Trek?” Manny asked.
“Oh, that’s just something I added,” I said. “Does everybody agree that I covered it?”
“That sounds right,” Manny conceded.
Everybody woofed their agreement except Heintz. Manny asked, “Heintz, you’re the only one who hasn’t said a word. What do you think?”
“Think? Think! I don’t think, I act!”
“Well, Heintz, what are you going to do,” I asked.
Heintz grinned and growled, “Bite the little bastards with the bags.” There’s a man or woman of action in almost every group.
I think the whole Halloween thing is complicated and dumb, but considering humans thought it up, I understand. Give me the good old canine holiday, ”Trashcan Tipover Time,” for simplicity and pure fun.
Tags: animal tales, Books, dogs, Entertainment, Fox & Friends, Fox News, holidays, Humor, Media, New Years, O'Reilly, publishing, Reading, Writing
I thought it would be good to comment on the Geezer’s New Years Resolution progress. Another way of describing this would be “Missions Impossible.” I’m sure Tom Cruise could make a movie from my human’s struggles. “Mission Impossible #16″ - sounds good! It couldn’t be any worse than some of the waste of celluloid I’ve seen on TV.
Back to the subject. The Geezer’s effort to keep up with those not yet a week old edicts, I’d grade as C-. I hope that designation doesn’t offend those of you who are part of the “Society for the Universal Culmination of Kindergarten through School – of the Elimination of Grading.” That’s SUCKS – EG, for short. It’s hard to say anything in this ridiculously political correct environment without a storm of protest coming from some group of certifiables. If you don’t like the C- “indictment statement,” tough.
Okay, the old boy made 5 of those dedications to delusions, his words not mine. One is already in “Flush Town.” So much for giving a supreme effort to self-discipline.
I knew the first one was doomed from the second he uttered the words… “I pledge to share control of the TV remote time equally with Mrs. Gator.” There are somethings each of us aren’t capable of doing. Physically. Psychologically. The stuff just isn’t there. I don’t know if the Geezer was lying to himself or just plain lying. Certainly, the football bowl games and all the related hoopla expedited its demise. That resolution didn’t make it through New Years morning. The Geezer hid the “clicker” when Mrs. Gator wanted to watch the Rose Parade instead of a replay of a game from the previous evening. Mrs. Gator gave him “the eye,” waved the white flag without a struggle, and he removed the “power” from under the sofa cushion. Scratch one edict. I knew that one had as much chance of survival as a cat dropped into a pit-bull kennel with 10 residents that hadn’t been fed for two days.
The two that are in jeopardy are his resolutions to, “manage my anger better,” and “clean up under the house and get rid of the junk.”
The Geezer has one of those strange tempers that boils over at the littlest things, yet he manages to control himself when faced with some crisiss you would think should send him into orbit. If he drops the soap while in the shower, a daily occurrence, it likely will trigger a stream of four letter wonders, connected in various combinations, shouted at the villainous bar of Dove. However, he placed an order for Mrs. Gator’s major Christmas present on-line. The store has botched it twice, but he has retained his composure and control when he speaks with them, remaining focused on getting the problem solved. He dropped the soap this AM and there was no shouting, just an inaudible murmur. I give this one 4 or 5 weeks.
The “clean up under the house” decree is as secure as a drop of water on a stone in the desert at noon on a summer’s day. It’ll evaporate, the only thing in question is the time involved. The problem is Mrs. G. She capitalizes the PACK in pack rat. For every box the Geezer cleans out, Mrs. Gator will find at least one to replace it. After a while he’ll realize it’s as futile as trying to keep the tide from rising, and he’ll capitulate. He will work at this promise for two or three months until inevitability overcomes hope.
His “lose weight” resolution is likely to be kept for four reasons. First, the extra 50 pounds he’s toting around negatively impacts things he wants to do so there’s a big incentive there. Second, he’s done this successfully before. He has a diet that works. Third, he knows the extra weight’s health impact on his ol’ codger bod’ ain’t good. And fourth, when the needle on the scale gets anywhere close to having a three as the first number, he panics. He’s throwing out the potato chips, Reese’s cups, buying diet sodas, and has the measuring cup and scale out. I’m betting he’ll make this one.
Last, and the one I thought would be the first to go, was his, “to watch less TV news and not to get angry at the idiots on these shows,” resolve. Surprisingly, he’s doing this. I didn’t believe he’d give up watching Fox and Friends for two hours every morning because he really likes the three humans who host that show, even the one he calls “Brainless in Long Island.” He’s sworn off Bill O’Reillycompletely. It’s surprising how positively its impacted his humor…it’s now generally good, not bad! I asked him about the ease with which he’s abandoned that habit. He grinned and replied, “You know how NBC has the peacock as its symbol? Well, Fox is adopting an Ostrich as their’s. That makes it easier. I’d rather watch programs that stand for something, not nothing.” I have no idea what he means. I wish somebody would clue me in. It probably has something to do with putting your head where the sun doesn’t shine and somebody named Beck, but that’s just a guess because it was mentioned at the same time.
That’s the Geezer New Years Resolution Progress Report. Two are on-line, two are struggling to hang-on, and the third is already in septic tank city.
Tags: animal tales, Books, dogs, Entertainment, Fox News, holidays, Humor, illegal immigration, New Years, O'Reilly, Reading, Writing
”The weather is great this morning Geezer.” The last week in Southwest Florida has been perfect if you like the low 80′s, gentle breezes, and bright sunny days. We sat on the dock watching a pair to Osprey hover around their nest, the female spending most of her time perched on her eggs. “It would be nice if it stayed this way all year,” I added.
“I don’t know, Sandy. I think it would get boring after a while.” The Geezer rubbed his mustache and grinned at me. “You’ve see warm, warmer, and hot, but never cold. Maybe I should add that to my list of New Year’s Resolutions….Get Sandy into some cold winter weather.”
“What’s a New Years Resolution, Geezer?” That was something I hadn’t heard about before.
The Geezer laughed. “New Years’ Resolutions are what we humans do to delude our conscience into believing we will make changes in our lives we have no intention of completing.” He hesitated, blinked his eyes, and got one of those ’I'd better come clean’ looks on his mug. “That’s overstating a little, Sandy. There are a few of us that really will follow through and keep them.”
“Let me be sure I understand, Geezer. People realize there’s something they need to do, they say they’re going to do it, but really know they’re not?” That really sounded stupid, but then we are talking about humans here. I couldn’t help mumbling under my breath, “Dumb.”
“You’re right, Sandy.”
“Are you making any New Years Resolutions?” I asked. “Of course, I KNOW you’ll keep yours.” I can’t help it…I was born with a sarcastic tongue.
The Geezer leaned forward and watched one of the Ospreys leave the nest. He remarked, “Look, Sandy, Mama Ospreys going to find breakfast.”
He should know I’m not that easy to distract. “No, no, no, Geezer. You’re not getting off that easy.” I rose up on all fours and stared into his eyes. “Are…you…making…any…resolutions?”
The old boy gave me a guilty glance mixed with embarrassment. “Okay, you got me. I’ll tell you what resolutions I should make. Want to hear them?”
He shook his head and sighed before he began. After he’d put off starting as long as he could he said, “To lose weight.”
“That’s a good one.” The Geezer’s shape was approaching that of one of the blimps televising the football bowl games. Though filled with gas, he certainly wasn’t lighter than air.
“Do a better job of anger management.” His guilt glance made me laugh.
“Go on,” I said.
“Watch less TV and don’t get so upset by the idiots on the tube.” The guilt remained.
“I can see what you mean about delusions. Geezer, since we’re talking fantasy here, why don’t you make up some wacky resolutions for some famous people? That would be interesting.” The smile on the Geezer’s face swished away his anguished features. I really think the old boy should reimburse me for psychological services. Sirloin steak would do nicely.
The Geezer thought for a few seconds. “Hmmm. I’d start with having that Illinois Governor resolve to enroll in a criminology course on wiretapping.”
”Good one Geezer!” I knew that would juice him up.
“How about having Jerry Jones resolve to make Terrell Owens the Dallas headcoach and install Jessica Simpson as the new starting center for the Cowboys?”
I laughed, “Well, they wouldn’t be much worse than they were against the Eagles.”
“Romo would be happy.” The Geezer’s eyes lighted up. “I have a good one; have John McCain resolve to suspend his campaign to coach the Cardinals in their first playoff game.”
”Hey, the election is over! Besides, does he know anything about football?”
“So are the Cardinals chances of winning the playoff. And, McCain can’t know less about coaching football than he did about running his campaign. That gets me thinking. How about having Bill O’Reilly resolve to not mention his Harvard education on TV for one year? Or having Paris Hilton resolve to install cameras in her bathroom so everything she does can be covered by the press. Maybe we could get a resolution from Ann Coulter and Barbara Pelosi to resolve their differences in one of those steel cage wrestling matches. The loser would resolve to have their vocal cords removed. I bet Tiger Woods could be convinced to resolve to never drive another Buick. Or we could get Michael Moore to resolve to make a movie on the humanistic side of Josef Stalin? Why not have Paulson resolve to stand on the Mexican border and give bailout checks to the illegals as they cross. Or get Kieth Obermann to resolve to get a brain transplant? How about having the people that give out the movie Oscars resolve to select the best performances instead of passing out the statues to those who have an agenda with which they agree.”
“Now you are truly talking delusions. They have to make that kind of movie first.”
Tags: Books, holidays, Humor, Reading, Thanksgiving, Writing
My human really loves the holidays. When the Geezer Gator takes off his Halloween mask and costume he begins to shed his cynical side, smiles and laughs more, loses his temper less, and is happy to see the next day’s sunrise. That air of happiness and contentment lasts until the last potato chips disappear from the TV tray bowls as he watches the New Year’s Day football games.
As we got ready for this morning’s walk, I noted his normal displeasure with the TV news remained muted and the cold morning air didn’t elicit a single grumpy phrase. While treading our ritual route, my decision to chase an insolent blue heron while still attached to my leash…came close to jerking the Geezer’s arm from its socket. He didn’t even scold me. His good-natured comment was, “Whoa Sandy, my arm won’t stretch that far.” The Holidays Happies have descended on the Geezer Gator.
I’m the kind of dog that doesn’t want to go through life having people think I have a dark cloud hovering over me, so I make a concerted effort fo avoid doom and gloom conversation. But, I’m also as curious as Sugar, Mrs. G’s black and white cat. I couldn’t help wondering how my friend was able to dismiss all the dire events and things I’d heard him discuss recently. There didn’t seem to be much cause for him to be happy.
After completing our walk and sitting in our accustomed places on the sea wall, my tongue itched and twitched until I blurted out my question. “Damn, Geezer, after all the things you’ve been warning and complaining about the last couple months, how come you’re in such a good mood?”
“Thanksgiving is right around a bend in the calendar, just a week away.” He smiled as he squinted through the sun’s rays streaming from their source, now several degrees above the palms and mangroves.
”It’s kind of going to be a lean Thanksgiving isn’t it?” I asked.
”Why do you say that, Sandy?”
I looked skyward, “Let me count the ways. The stock market’s sinking faster than a tanker with four torpedo hits and your retirement with it. We have a bailout program that isn’t designed to do anything except salvage some lavish weekends for AIG executives. It’s made the economy a lot worse because the Headless Horseman (Geezer’s nickname for Bush) and his pimps in the media screamed “the sky is falling!” and generated a super panic. The whole financial world lost confidence and went into a shell after that fiasco. We have a President elect that’s promised change and a departure from business as usual in Washington, but is already putting all the old Beltway cronies in power positions. You think his election was like hiring a drunk to guard a brewery. Your son works for an auto manufacturer; your son-in-law is in the housing business. Both of those industries have heart conditions and cancer compounded by AIDS. Food prices are up. I see that you have preparation H on your shopping list. Need I mention more?”
The Geezer tilted his head back and laughed heartily.
I was shocked. “Hey, Geezer wasn’t what I said true?”
“Well….Yes….But Sandy, Thanksgiving isn’t a glass half empty day. It’s definitely a glass half full event.”
“Spare me the cliches, Gator. What are you really saying?”
“Thanksgiving is a day for taking inventory of the good happenings, people, and things in each of our lives. It’s not for decrying what might have been or lamenting what you don’t have.”
I lifted my eyes and looked at him in a skeptical manner. ‘Polyanna,’ I thought, but shouldn’t have. The old boy’s something of a mind-reader.
“Really Sandy.” Geezer smiled, arched his old back, and wiggled his rear to make the concrete more comfortable. “I have a roof over my head and a nice place to live under it’s shingles. I have enough income to pay my bills and eat. Eating is habit forming you know.”
He paused waiting for a reaction to his attempt at humor. I obliged with a guffaw, and nodded for him to proceed.
“Think about all the good I have. I’ve got great friends-old and new-with which to enjoy and share parts of my life. Having old friends like Chet and Betty, Babs and Ed, Carol and Glen, makes my life secure and happy. New friends like Brenda, Judy, Maria, Andy, Mary, and others enrich and broaden my breathing. Hey, the bad economy has made fishing better because there aren’t as many folks out on the bays. My son and daughter will do well regardless of what short term problems trouble them, because they’re both winners and won’t be defeated, I’m truly thankful for that. I have the finest wife a man could be blessed with and a dog too magnificent for words to describe. What’s not to be thankful?”
“See your point, Geezer. And, the message that all of us can view our lives that way…yeah, I get it…but…” I let my voice trail off begging for the question. I knew the old boy wouldn’t be able to resist.
“All those bad things will still be there the day after Thanksgiving.” I looked at him feeling I’d just made a most profound comment.
The old boy’s grin broadened. “That’s the thing I give thanks for the most. I live in a place where I can do something about the problems around me– as long as I have the strength of my convictions and the determination to see them through. And, thank God, I have that too.”
To all, Happy Thanksgiving!