Tag Archive | Media

How do you like it?

 

Sorry Trooper

My buddy Trooper says he loves it! I hope you do too!

Notice anything different? After many posts and years, I started this blog in June of 2008, I’ve given it a face lift. Well … kind of … Mrs. G gave me a major assist. She says the heading is more in keeping with my temperament, gender, and … well it’s just me.

What do you think?

 

Pardon my fart … or … Shall we recycle one more thing?

Geezer & I share a Christmas kiss

No, your breath isn’t that bad.

 

“Sorry, Sandy.”  The Geezer Gator waved his hand in front of his nose.  “I shouldn’t eat broccoli and baked beans at the same meal.”

I was glad we were sitting on the dock and there was a gentle breeze to dissipate the hovering flatulence.  “Geezer, that was really bad.  I’m glad you don’t smoke.  Lighting a match right now would cause an explosion.  That was a real high octane release.”

“It was a sheet rotter.  I hope it doesn’t turn that beautiful golden coat of yours green,” the Geezer looked at me and grinned.  “You know, maybe you should contact that T. Boone Pickens fellow and give him an idea for another source of natural gas.”

It took a few seconds for his words to register, my mind being slowed by the cloud of methane encircling us.  “Oh, you mean the guy that used to run TV advertisements for windmills and natural gas? That’s years ago.”

“Uh-huh, that’s T. Boone Pickens.”

“You thinking of renting out your digestive system? How much broccoli and baked beans can you consume?” I jested.  “Seems you might wear out parts of yourself pretty fast.”

The Geezer laughed.  “Hey, no single sourcing.  Think about the possibilities.  There’s so much gas being released by cows alone, a TV program I saw says it’s polluting the atmosphere more than automobiles, if I remember, correctly.”

I went along with the flow, “Yep, a completely renewable source of energy.  Just collect it and burn it.  All our energy problems are about to be solved!”

“Who’d of thought that something as simple as the common fart would save mankind.”  The breeze blew the last of the “rotten eggs” smell away.

“Now all we have to do is to collect them, Geezer.”

“That’s the beautiful part of your idea, Sandy.”  The Geezer’s mind was churning.  I could hear the old rusty gears squealing and clashing as they neared full speed.  “Think about all the satellite industries and disciplines that your idea will spawn.  They may end up naming some kind of economic event after you.  I can see it now – The Sandy Cycle.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, just think of it.”  The Gator held his fingers up and tugged at one.  “We’ll need to manufacture fart collectors.  Lots of them.  Think of the jobs that will create.  And fart strainers, that’s a must.  We’ll need a fart acquisition and distribution system, one that allows us to determine the octane rating so it can be sold like gasoline is now.”  The old boy tried to keep a straight face.  “Whole industries will be born.”

“Who’s going to develop all this?”  I prompted him, though I’m sure he didn’t need it.

He tugged at his second finger.  “No problem.  A new field of science will develop, Fartology!  Our leading universities will soon be turning out fartologists that study all facets of the discipline.  They’ll study fart formation, composition, conservation, utilization, everything.  I can see Harvard and Yale bragging about their graduates like they do Bush, Obama, and Clinton.

I nodded, “That sure is true.  Probably will spike deodorizer sales.  I’ll look into buying anti-stink stock, if there’s a stock market left after the next election.”

“Speaking about elections and government, think of all the agencies it will create.”  The Geezer tugged at a third finger.  “There will be the Department of Farts and Feces.  There will be groups studying foods best suited for fart formation, the toxic effect of farts on the Amazon rain forest, and, of course, quality inspectors from FDA.  Think of the graft and corruption potential.  The politicians will love it.  We’ll find out how long a fart can stay on a treadmill. Even the IRS will get their nose into the business as they sniff around for those villainous -“fart syphoners.”

“Interesting.  Who would be appointed to run the Department of Farts?” I asked.

“Sandy, it will take highly qualified individuals to run such a branch. How about selecting candidates from the nightly news?

“Agreed!” I shouted.  “I can’t think of people that are more full of it.

 

PS- this is an old post I revised & recycled- I thought some comic relief was in order.

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Sometimes humans do horrible things – And Nero fiddles …

Sometimes humans do good things -

At times humans do good things – Sometimes they’re plain horrible!

 

Unless you are deaf, dumb or blind, you can’t be ignorant of the events of the last 48 hours. Humanities scum, filth, garbage … showed its depravity in Orlando. Unfortunately, the human who perpetrated this event will get the headlines. Sharing those headlines will be pundits and politicos who ask everyone to “be as one.” Aaaaaa … humans, let me enlighten you … you’re already divided. If you don’t make changes, severe ones, World War Three is in the wings. You cannot allow the type evil that is evolving in all areas of the world to grow and prosper. I’d prefer not to have to scavenge your bodies to survive.

I don’t like to talk politics so I won’t say more than this. You humans need change. In thinking. In policy. In honesty. In functionality. Most of all, in leadership. That’s at all levels, in all organizations. Government and the news media should be first, followed closely by what you humans humorously call collegiate education. Barking won’t get it. The only way a mouth saves is CPR. We have had way to much mouth – in fact, fifteen years of it is enough.

 

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Does it make you sick, too?

Sometimes I want to go hide from the humans and their animosities.

Sometimes I want to go hide from the humans and their animosities.

 

Does it make you sick? It sure makes me want to puke. Humans are becoming more despicable every day. I’ve always enjoyed riding in the car, but now even more! There is NO TV, and the Geezer refuses to have the radio turned on. Why is that good: I’m not tortured by the hostility and violence that is constantly present on the media and masquerades as humanity. I’m tired of people screaming at each other. I’m tired of every TV and movie drama and sitcom having violence or political propaganda at its center. I’m tired of people professing knowledge of things they know nothing about. I’m really tired of folks who dislike others and can’t explain why. (Other than someone else told them they should.) I’m tired of division, division, division, particularly those who accuse others of dividing then do it themselves. I sick of people carrying “stop hate” signs rioting, destroying other peoples property, and trying to injure those who think differently from them. (They are the bottom of the human trash heap. It has to be their way or the violent way.)

Let me share some canine common sense with you humans. I’ll put in bold, colored font so it’s easy to read.

HEY HUMANS:  START EMPHASIZING THE THINGS YOU HAVE IN COMMON AND DE-EMPHASIZING  YOUR DIFFERENCES – – – –

IF YOU WANT TO SURVIVE!

Sometimes a dog has to say what a dog has to say! I’m usually a glass half full, try to write neutral, kind of canine, but I’m really getting to abhor politics and particularly all the political groups stirring up trouble. Pass this along if you agree.

 

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FLASH!! – I’m a guest poster dog — or something like that.

I'm a celeb. Read my post on Kate Colby's web page.

I’m a celeb. Read my post on Kate Colby’s web page.

MY FIRST GUEST POST.  Thomas, my feline friend, invited me to post on Poet and Novelist Kate Colby’s blog page. Thomas will be posting on my blog this Saturday! I’m excited.

I researched the post by questioning my human, the Geezer, and having him select the proper bourbon to drink while reading some of his favorite books. Bourbon and Books can be read by visiting Kate’s site.  www.katecolby.com  .  After you get that far, click the “Boxthorn Press” block and it will get you there.

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Dogfucius says: It’s better not to talk than to talk about nothing.

Chating with my sister before the Pine Island Canine Chowder and Ham Bone Marching Society meeting.

Talking trash and chating with my sister before the Pine Island Canine Chowder and Ham Bone Marching Society meeting.

There was a meeting of the Pine Island Canine Chowder and Ham Bone Marching Society this morning. Since there wasn’t much doggie business to discuss, we looked for other topics. We thought about discussing monkey business, but none of us knew any monkeys or what’s important to them, so we decided we shouldn’t discuss that. However, Sparkle, the Irish Setter, suggested that our lack of monkey expertise shouldn’t deter us from discussing simian issues. She said, “After all, look at human politicians. They talk about everything and know practically nothing.” Accepting that as a fact was the first unanimous show of paws I can remember at one of our meetings.

Peter the pointer pointed out that, “All you have to do is to look at the debate that was on TV last night. The thing you learned most was how all the humans didn’t like each other or this one human. That’s what they discussed, mostly. So … they really discussed nothing.” We snickered. Humans are a low life form.

The Pine Island Canine Chowder and Ham Bone Marching Society then discussed that there was nothing to discuss, and, rather than degrade ourselves to human levels, we adjourned the meeting.

 

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First there was the Chinese Water Torture, then the Spanish Inquisition … Now TV!

I long for the days I was too young to understand what's on TV.

I long for the days when I was too young to understand what’s on TV.

I have been subjected to cruel and unusual punishment! The Geezer has gone to far this time. My humans have company so the doors that are normally open to the bedrooms … are closed. The circular staircases to the upstairs make me dizzy so escape by going up is impossible. Escape you say? Escape from what? Torture! I’ve been relegated to staying in the living room and subjected to mistreatment by television. Aaaahhhhh!! I can’t get away from it. Humans have to be in the lowest intelligence percentile of all life forms on planet Earth; they actually enjoy watching TV. The people staying with the Geezer and Mrs. G are addicted to the tube. If it isn’t turned on, they’re turned off.

TV is just plain pathetic. Several weeks ago I talked about the advertisements that appear between what is supposed to be entertainment, or news, all of which should be placed in the visual trashcan. Remember my comments on the six is greater than one revelation? That rates a Gomer Pyle reaction: Surprise! Surprise! Surprise! There are ads  that bring into question if the human species actually has a brain. I have my doubts. There isn’t any doubt about the Madison Avenue humans that dream up these brain farts.

Have you seen the one about the free range chicken? That rascal gets around. From the barnyard to hopping freight cars, everyone in the ad extols the chicken’s masculine free spirit. They even talk about how “he” keeps sending pictures back to the home folks. The problem – the super hero chicken they filmed isn’t a rooster, she’s a hen. Evidently, those smart folks in Manhattan don’t realize there are sexual differences in chickens that the public can discern. Maybe they were taught by that MIT professor that believes American humans are really dumb. Maybe the professor was right.

Then there are the ads for new films. I’ll describe one. There’s a dark background, men with guns are shooting each other, there are several huge explosions, some woman is shown taking her top off, one of the characters delivers inciting, complex dialogue, “Get down!” (which exhausts the actor’s vocabulary), a decaying corpse comes to life in a zombie state, and finally there’s the absolutely, positively, indispensable speeding vehicle that does a triple flip in the pike position. I said one ad, but that covers 80% of film trailers.

How about the birdies looking for a new home. That’s the one where a flock heads one way, lands at a place where the phones “buffer,” their little bird brains get upset, the birds do a reverse course, and an announcer proudly proclaims these birds returned for three hundred bucks and getting their old phone network back. What he doesn’t tell you is there was no food where they landed. None. Nada. Zilch. Geese aren’t that dumb. They’d be looking for a corn field or rice paddy. They put down on flat barren tundra. Mama goose didn’t raise a dumb gaggle. They needed the $300 to go to McDonald’s. Oh yes, the announcer keeps saying “birds.” Evidently he things a goose is something you do with your thumb.

The Geezer is showing me some compassion, however. He’s promised to take me outside, turn on the hose and drench me. I sure can use it. The people upstairs have been watching news shows all day with a continuous mud slide of politics spewing from the screen. It makes one feel dirty, filthy, like one has been dipped into a two hundred year old outhouse. A bath, a bath, my country for a bath. I guess I’ll forgive him if he throws in a hamburger for supper tonight.

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