The wife has this wall plaque that she picked up in Greece a few years ago. The first time I looked at it I was sure it said “Big Ass KABONG!” I don’t know what that means in Greek, but I’m going to use it as the name of my new band. I’m still trying to decide on the genre – probably either metal-ska or rockabilly rap.
I’m a huge Beatles fan, so the other night I decided to watch the movie “Help!” which I hadn’t seen in maybe 20 years. It’s not great, but it has its moments. Not far into the film, there’s a scene in which the cult members led by Leo McKern’s Clang attempt to cut off Ringo’s hand while the Beatles dine in an Indian restaurant (they need the big red ring that’s stuck on his finger for their human sacrifice ceremony.) After failing in the attempt, Clang pulls his minion Bhuta aside and, as the characters face the camera, makes a hand gesture. Twenty years ago, I thought nothing of it. But now that gesture has a new and mildly obscene meaning. In the interest of recognizing classic moments like these from the history of cinema, I present this graphic…
I own a pug. His name is Lewis and he’s reasonably agreeable little guy. He loves everybody unless they happen to be walking/biking/skateboarding/driving past then house – then they get barked at. If one of these people happens to come inside, though, they are most welcome and Lewis will run up, introduce himself, and beg for attention.
So, generally, he’s a good dog. But thanks to centuries of inbreeding, pugs have a host of medical problems. Besides the bug
eyes, bad hips, wonky legs, and the tendency for parts of his nose to fall off in chunks, Lewis occasionally gets bladder stones. This has led to several expensive vet bills for me, and a medicinal diet for him. He is only allowed to eat his prescription dog food and nothing else.
This creates problems because dogs love treats, and Lewis is no exception. Before his bladder problems started, I would keep some dog treats around the house for him. At first I used them as rewards for training purposes, but if you’ve ever had a pug, you know that training them is a pointless and unrewarding endeavor, so eventually I just gave him the treats if he made it through the day without pooping on the carpet.
But once he started the medicinal diet, I couldn’t give him treats and I felt bad about it. At our normal treat time, he would look at me, breathe loudly (as they do), with one eye looking into my eyes and the other pointed over my right shoulder, appearing to wonder why I was holding back on the treats. EventualIy, I asked the vet there were any treats he could have, and she recommended carrots or celery.
That sounded pretty unlikely but I tried it anyway. I got a nice baby carrot, cleaned it off and set it down in front of him. He sniffed it a bit and then turned around and waddled away. Frankly, I was a surprised. Lewis isn’t known for his discerning palate. I’ve seen him lick up puddles of brown water from an overflowing toilet. I’ve seen him eat another dog’s poop. I’ve seen him drag a used maxi-pad out of the bathroom trash container and chew on it.
Yet somehow carrots are beneath his contempt?
As for that maxi-pad – my girlfriend at the time (now my wife) came over one night and left one in the bathroom trash (which is way better than flushing them, so I was grateful for that). I walked in sometime later and found Lewis sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor contentedly chomping on the pad, blood everywhere.
So, I cleaned it up and eventually got the kind of bathroom garbage can that Lewis couldn’t get into. But I can’t help being afraid that one day, for some reason, I’m going to be falsely accused of murder. And the CSI’s will be in my bathroom, looking for evidence, spraying it down with Luminol, then checking it out with their special black light:
Ruggedly handsome CSI with a vaguely British Accent: Chief! Come check this out!
Former 80’s movie actor who still retains some of his good looks and whose age gives him a paternal bearing: Whaddaya got?
CSI: Blood everywhere. And look over here. It looks like somebody licked it up!
Chief: Sick bastard. He’s going away for a long time.
I Found this old piece of paper in a box of old college mementos at my mother’s house. These scribbles were almost certainly made in Western Civilization class at Lower Columbia College around 1987. My friend Bart and I are the authors of this particular archeological find, which offers a window into the minds of bored 20-year-olds. We were in our second and last year at the community college and were anticipating transferring to four-year schools in the Fall. It may not make much sense as it is, so here are some annotations:
1. That was my plan for paying for my first year at Whitworth College. I didn’t have a plan for paying for the second year. Seems like a bargain now. I can’t remember the last time I had that much money in the bank.
2. We were trying to come up with names for the baby that some friends were about to have. “Pidge”, “Incontinentia” and “Guillotine” were apparently the best we could come up with. There’s a very clear Monty Python influence here.
3. We really hated people who asked a lot of pointless questions in class.
4. We lived in Longview, Washington which was small, boring mill-town about an hour away from the exciting metropolis of Portland. Everything seemed better there, including the weather.
5. See #3. I remember this one. She was a middle-aged know-it-all and was always trying to brown-nose the instructor. I don’t think he liked her either.
6. Another great name for the baby.
7. Hello ladies! Yes, we were horny young guys. Bart was a handsome guy and he at least had an outside chance with the girls around campus. I was several years away from developing enough personality to distract from the fact that I was weird looking.
8. “Wicked butts.” Yep. I was a real wordsmith…