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Granddaughter Joelle all tired out after a fun day with her cousins.
Granddaughter Joelle gives me the look I get from most young ladies...
Just a couple buds hanging out on the couch.
Sleep barking.
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Pumpkin turns 17 today and retains the title of oldest non-human mammal in the house.
Her nickname for the longest time was "Demon Cat From Hell." She does not suffer fools gladly, and she pretty much considers herself to be surrounded by fools.
Fortunately, she's mellowed somewhat in her old age. Treat her with respect, and you'll get it in return.
As long as you feed her.
Now.
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Granddaughters Joelle and Lea. Joelle appears to be thinking, "I don't
mind the sleepover business, but she's touching my bear."
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Rep. Steve Pearce (R-NM) on marriage between a man and a woman:
'The wife is to voluntarily submit, just as the husband is to lovingly lead and sacrifice. The husband’s part is to show up during the times of deep stress, take the leadership role and be accountable for the outcome, blaming no one else.'
To be fair, it sounds better in the original Klingon.
-Zay N. Smith-----
I'm a non-violent kind of guy, but I sincerely believe anyone who uses the word 'whilst' should be soundly thrashed.
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"Secret formulas" abound on social media for wondrous cleaning solutions you can make in your home.
Don't waste your time.
Homemade whatevers - rug cleaner, spot remover, detergent - all contain just one real, active ingredient: dishwashing liquid. That's it. Period. Be especially wary of the ones which include both vinegar and baking soda. When mixed, the acetic acid in the vinegar and the baking soda react to form carbonic acid and sodium acetate. Carbonic acid sounds impressive, but all it really is carbonated water. And when it stops fizzing, it's because all the carbon dioxide has escaped from the mixture. Take the carbon dioxide out of carbonic acid, and you have... water. So you're left with just water and sodium acetate. Sodium acetate is a nifty chemical, with lots of uses- but cleaning ain't one of them. Just just save yourself the trouble and just use the soap and water.
(Courtesy of the late George Kraynick, my sophomore chemistry teacher.)
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Ok, maybe it is a real dog and pony show...
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I'm not arguing, I'm explaining why I'm right.
-Bill Murray
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Funeral home directors: when the only phrase in a death notice that appears in initial caps and within quotation marks is "Dear Wife", you're sending a mixed message...
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"It was the first kiss between an African-American woman and a white
Canadian in a toupee."
-Craig Ferguson (describing Nichelle
Nichols and William Shatner in the original Star Trek tv series.)
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"Kraft has recalled over 1.7 million pounds of Velveeta products for
mis-labeled ingredients. They accidentally called it 'cheese'."
-Stephen
Colbert
-----
Alcohol is really just the liquid version of Photoshop.
-Bill
Murray
-----
Am I supposed to feel safer because corporations, not terrorists, are
blowing up fertilizer plants, drowning towns in oil, and poisoning the
water?
-@TheDailyEdge
-----
It's a girl my Lord
In a flatbed Ford
Slowing down to do
Some
misandry
(from Twitter)
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Agnostic apathetic isolationist.
I don't know. I don't care. Go away.
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I'm no scientist, but legalizing marijuana in your state seems to cause
immediate football superiority.
-@j_mccarter
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Granddaughter Joelle takes the term "menu sampler" literally.
(With
her mom, Angela, and senior granddaughter Leanna.)
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Excluding starches, preservatives, emulsifiers and artificial flavoring,
Soylent Green is actually less than 2% people.
-The
Covert Comic
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Son Douglas and granddaughter Joelle enjoy a quiet Sunday morning.
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WASHINGTON — The Federal Communications Commission on Thursday released
its first smartphone app, a free program that allows consumers to
measure the broadband speed they are getting on their mobile devices and
to determine whether it is as fast as wireless companies say.
Gee,
wonder what else it can do?
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A group of eleventh graders from Homestead High School, Homestead, PA, in the fall of 1969. Believe it or not, I'm one of them.
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This past Friday, November 15, marked the start of my 23rd year of residence here at Dr. Barkes' 3-D House of Shedding Fur and Domestic Bliss, which has, since those halcyon days of the early 90s, sheltered scores of fish, eleven dogs, four cats, and three pairs of children, grandchildren, and spouses. And that's just the interior.
Positioned as we are next a wooded area bordering a 3,000 acre county park, there's an endless parade of indigenous fauna. They effortlessly ignore the fence surrounding the back yard as they go about their daily routines. Some actively reside within its confines. I see deer almost daily, and groundhogs, rabbits, chipmunks, squirrels, and skunks from April through November.
Surprisingly, I had never encountered a raccoon until last week. It did not end well.
The dogs were frantically barking at the far end of the yard. They had the poor little fella surrounded.
When you see a raccoon during the day, there's something amiss. This guy was, fortunately, sitting quietly and not responding to the two adult shelties and one shih tzu puppy surrounding him. I got the dogs back into the house and quickly checked them out. They had no bite marks or scratches, which was a relief. While they all are current on their rabies vaccinations, they would still have had to be quarantined if they had been bitten. Relieved, I called the township and within ten minutes a personable South Park police officer arrived.
"This doesn't look good," the officer said as we approached the animal. "A healthy raccoon would run away from us." He picked up a fallen branch and gently poked the raccoon in the side. No reaction. The officer sighed, took out his can of pepper spray, and delivered a short blast. The raccoon slowly turned his back to us, but otherwise didn't move.
"Do you have a couple plastic garbage bags and a shovel?" he asked. I nodded. "Please get them."
I walked back up the yard. Halfway to the house, I heard the discharge. I returned and the officer bagged the small, inert form. It was clean shot at point blank range. The little guy hadn't felt a thing.
It was a series of firsts: first raccoon, first police officer in the back yard, first firearm on the property. The first, and, I sincerely hope, the last.
Vaya con Dios, pequeño mapache.
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(Originally published November 4, 2002)
Hobbes came home yesterday.
More precisely, our late feline's cremated remains were delivered to my unsuspecting wife, who received a telephone call from the nice lady at Backyard Burials a scant 30 minutes prior to his arrival.
Hobbes' true pedigree had never been firmly established. He had been harvested from a litter of feisty farm kittens of various flavors. We surmised a good percentage of his lineage was Maine Coon; a Mostly Maine Coon, if you will.
He was a big fella, 16 pounds, even in declining health. He was various shades of orange with a few swirls of white, the color depending on his current degree of shedding or attitude toward personal hygiene.
His gargantuan skull bore the distinctive dark "M" above his forehead, which I jokingly said stood for "moron." His temperament matched the breed's description: a big, gentle, good-natured goof. He had a high-pitched, trilling voice that was consistent with Maine Coons and totally out of character for a creature of his impressive bulk. Think of a feline Mike Tyson, and you'll get the effect.
My then pre-teen daughter Sara named him after the stuffed tiger in Bill Watterson's Calvin and Hobbes comic strip. I always believed the moniker was more accurately a nod to the English philosopher. The cat was a living example of Thomas Hobbes' theory of materialism: people (and, apparently, big goofy house cats) are motivated by appetite and aversion. Hobbes the cat demonstrated this on a daily basis. It became a family game to place a tempting morsel near an object that frightened him, to watch his reactions as his "fear/food" calculator kicked in, and to wager whether his innate gluttony would overcome his intrinsic cowardice.
Like most house cats, Hobbes really had no useful function in our household, other than to use the white wall to wall carpeting as a canvas for his prodigious hairball output and to generate carbon dioxide for the house plants. He could have been the prototype for Star Trek's tribbles. Like the fictional creatures, he was warm and furry, semi-mobile, possessed a ravenous appetite and made purring noises that engendered a feeling of serenity in the humans around him.
Hobbes was a karmic grounding rod, especially in his later years. He was always serene, almost Buddha-like, dozing in the sun, intently watching the dust motes float by. Dogs can sense emotional turmoil and, in response, express empathy and concern. They're reflectors of anxiety. Express anxiety in the presence of a dog and you have an anxious dog. Hobbes was an angst heat sink. You could feel the distress dissipate as you petted him, his aura of imperturbable calmness surrounding you.
While we received his ashes yesterday, Hobbes departed over a month ago. The cremation of animals doesn't seem to warrant the same sense of urgency as human dissolution. There are no wakes to hold, no religious ceremonies to conduct. Indeed, many claim there are no animals in the afterlife.
I once got into an discussion with a minister about the seeming exclusion of non-humans from Paradise. I pointed out that in the Book of Revelation, the apostle John says "Then I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse."Revelation also states "the armies which were in heaven followed him upon white horses, clothed in fine linen, white and clean." Which indicates to me that not only are there animals in heaven, they're really snazzy dressers. (One could argue that if John had his vision today, he would see Humvees instead of palominos. But I'll leave this exercise in operational semantics to the Left Behind folks.)
Of course, the real question here is: do animals have immortal souls? Pope John Paul II said in 1990 that "animals possess a soul and men must love and feel solidarity with our smaller brethren"; that all animals are "fruit of the creative action of the Holy Spirit and merit respect" and are "as near to God as men are." The Reverend Billy Graham sort of sidestepped the issue by stating "God will prepare everything for our perfect happiness in heaven, and if it takes my dog being there, I believe he'll be there."
***
It was a very stressful time. Sara was dealing with severe morning sickness and emotionally wasn't up to it. Pam was recovering from her bypass surgery and couldn't be alone, so Doug had to stay at home with her.
It was just me, sitting in the small examination room, waiting for them to return with Hobbes and the IV apparatus. I desperately wished Doug or Sara was there. Their presence would have switched me into Dad Mode, where the neurons and synapses arrange themselves in a way that causes me to become the gruff but sensitive old curmudgeon who provides emotional support and words of sage advice.
Instead, it was just me. The guy who cries at the end of Field of Dreams. The fool who was scarred for life by Old Yeller. The idiot who has to leave the room when Emergency Vets is on. The sap whose last act before filing for bankruptcy was sending a check to the local no-kill shelter.
The doctor returned with Hobbes, who was his normal placid self. Only the slightly labored breathing belied his condition but, as always, he maintained his ineffable cockeyed equanimity. He studiously ignored the hideous, lethal device attached to his leg. Decorum demanded it.
He sat sphinx-like, front legs outstretched. He opened his eyes, focused them with some effort, became aware of my presence. He emitted that ridiculous girlish chirp of his. It was a sound he reserved for those rare instances in which he felt it necessary to summon me to witness an event of tremendous import. His last great discovery was that dry cat food batted into a cold air return would cause the furnace's electrostatic air cleaner to make an amazing zapping sound.
I believe he sensed he was on the threshold of an even more significant revelation.
I knelt down, level with his ears, and softly told him what a good Hobbers he was. I put one hand across his front legs and scratched his neck.
His head slowly pointed upwards and he sniffed the air. He made that goofy smile of his, then opened his eyes and looked into mine.
He rested his head on my hand. I focused on that big stupid "M" on his forehead, but peripherally I was aware of the plunger slowly sinking into the barrel, fluids flowing in clear plastic tubes.
Hobbes relaxed. He leaned against me, closed his eyes again, and began purring. He didn't stop until the syringe was empty.
I don't know what Heaven looks like. But I know it sounds like the purring of a mostly Maine Coon.
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But baby pigeons do exist.
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(YouTube video: Bunny Dash)
It's probably because 15-year-old Lucy's vision, hearing, and sense of smell aren't what they used to be, but I like to think she doesn't mind sharing the yard with the bunny that lives in the tallgrass stand. After the rabbit ran away, Lucy took no notice; she just continued her twice daily inspection of the back yard and reported in that everything was fine, and that it was time for me to carry her upstairs to watch television on the couch, and to wait for her 9 pm cheese-and-phenobarbital treat.
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"Hey, Dad! I think I found Jimmy Hoffa!"
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The Family Research Council is either adorably oblivious,
or their PR
outfit is just plain evil.
Variations on a theme:
When this man smiles, a fairy dies:
Speaking of smiles:
(YouTube video: formerly captive ducks see water for the first time).
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Fascinating. Tell me more about "peanuts" in "jars."
(Original photo by Külli Kittus)
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That phrase wasn't my first choice.
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Kaiser, a 30 month old German Shepherd canine officer for the Plymouth, Massachusetts Police Department, was euthanized last Friday due to the ravaging effects of severe liver and kidney disease.
Kaiser's handler, Jamie LeBretton, had announced last Wednesday that his partner had retired from the force that day. He sadly noted a ceremony at Angel View Pet Cemetery would follow Kaiser's final trip to the Court Street Animal Hospital.
Kaiser was met by a silent, respectful group of his fellow officers, who stood at attention and saluted him as he followed his partner and friend.
"I feel privileged to have had a front row seat to witness his bravery and heroic actions while serving the people of Plymouth and my brothers and sisters in blue," Officer LeBretton said. "Although his career was short-lived, he made a huge impact that will never be forgotten."
The Plymouth Police Department depends upon contributions from the public to operate and maintain its K-9 unit. Please consider making a donation online here, or send a check to:
Plymouth Police Working Dog Foundation
20 Long Pond Road
Plymouth
MA 02360
Attn: Marc Higgins
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The fidelity of a Dog is a precious gift, demanding no less binding
moral responsibilities than the friendship of a Human Being. The bond
with a True Dog is as lasting as the ties of this Earth will ever be.
-Konrad
Lorenz
Sources: Top photo, Old Colony Memorial on Facebook. Bottom photo, Plymouth Police Working Dog Foundation. Facebook page. (Photos were cropped and processed for this web page's display requirements).
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"There's something behind me, isn't there?"
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No matter how bad your Monday morning is, odds are you didn't have to wade through belly-deep snow in order to pee. There's about five inches of snow out there now and it's still coming down. Late March snows really aren't that unusual, and we get an average of 1.5" in April. And on May 9, 1966, we got 3.1 inches. So quit complaining.
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Couldn't resist.
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The first day of seizure-inhibiting phenobarbital treatment really zonked her out, and she's still kinda stoned and shaky, but Lucy ate all her breakfast, had a long drink of water, did her business, and made her daily inspection of the back yard.
I'm not sure she even realized it snowed last night but hey, haven't we all had mornings like that?
The other two dogs and the two cats spent the night with me in my office. Lucy was the only one who really got any sleep. The lesser mammals are now all unconscious under my desk, while I have to spend the next eight to ten hours writing a MacroSPITBOL function definition to create, name, and populate multiple table structures at runtime.
That phenobarb is looking mighty attractive...
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Lady Lucia (Lucy), the eldest of our Shelties, turned 15 last month. We've been wincing for the past year or so, wondering where the Geriatric Wheel of Misfortune would stop.
And the "winner" is- focal seizures. She started having 30-second episodes every 15 minutes or so last night.
She appears to be responding well to the anti-seizure medication. We'll probably be bringing her home today.
Fortunately, being an old curmudgeon has its benefits. I'm familiar with involuntary snarling and drooling.
And Lucy is one tough little broad. She keeps all the lesser mammals in line around here, and all she asks in return is to spend the evenings snoozing next to me on the couch.
The only difference tonight will be that we'll both be on meds.
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It's also probably not safe. Scrape the gray matter off the wall behind you, go back out to the kitchen, and get yourself another cup of coffee. Then go check out Reddit. I hear there's some good stuff over there.
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Well, not mine, really. Gabriel is one of the animals helped by Janice Wolf at Rocky Ridge Refuge. Help them out by ordering a 2013 calendar online, or by sending $16 ($20 international) to:
Rocky Ridge Refuge
Janice Wolf
P.O. Box 105
Midway, Ar. 72651
Tell her you want the humor calendar. Trust me.
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More accurately, a regular deer.
I let the dogs out Friday night and about a minute later heard them barking frantically.
I ran out to the back yard, but couldn't see them; the sound was coming from behind a stand of seven foot tallgrass that obscured my view. As I got nearer, I saw a flash of brown and white, much larger than a Sheltie, headed directly at me at high speed.
I started turning to get out of the way, but wasn't fast enough- the doe collided with me at full speed. Strictly on the basis of mass, I should have been the winner- but she was going full tilt bozo and delivered a substantial if glancing blow as she shot past me and bounded over the fence.
I was spun in a vector and at a velocity totally inappropriate for someone of my age and decrepitude. To my credit, I somehow managed to stay on my feet. My immediate feeling was relief (my body had not yet determined the precise location and intensity of the pain it was going to begin relentlessly transmitting to my brain).
Then I looked down.
There stood three Shetland sheepdogs with expressions ranging from pity to disgust. I could almost hear their disparaging comments concerning my absymal herding abilities. "We chased it right to you, Dad. You're bigger! You have opposable thumbs! You let it go right by you! We were looking forward to something other than dry kibble!"
The ring of pain pulsing around my pelvic girdle can be numbed with NSAIDs. But it's going to take a lot of pizza crusts slipped under the table to regain my true alpha standing with the rest of the pack.
At least they didn't tell the cats.
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You've heard of the wolf spider, but how about the spider wolf?
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The rare Fosse Constrictor. You're welcome.
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Faceboook prototype edition
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Stuff that caught my eye this week:
Of course, the new Eastwood meme:
Other politics:
Family:
My son Doug and my daughter-in-law Angela
Cute animals:
Family and cute animals::
Bella keeps a stiff upper lip as she prepares to watch my granddaughter
Leanna depart for the first day of fourth grade.
Miscellany:
The Jet Propulsion Laboratory Curiosity Mars Lander Team visits the cast
of The Big Bang Theory:
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Put on a hat. Run around in the grass. Pursue happiness.
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Instinct works best when your goals are realistic.
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... to all the volunteers who give their time, love and compassion to
shelter animals.
(via Melanie Agnello)
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The cat runs a tight ship.
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"I can't hear you. I have a cat on my head."
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"If you have men who will exclude any of God's creatures from the
shelter of compassion and pity, you will have men that who will deal
likewise with their fellow men."
-St Francis of Assisi
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"The Department of Education,
the Department of Commerce,
and...
uh... oops."
-Rick Perry
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Back in the halcyon, pre-Internet days of KGB Consulting, my office had a half dozen computer systems, over a dozen telephone lines, the usual collection of office equipment, and a couple hundred feet of various phone and low-voltage control cabling stuffed above the suspended ceiling.
Since the business folded back in 2000, I only need two "work" systems. I disconnected the Verizon phone service five years ago, when I called to report a service outage at 10 am and was told all their representatives were busy and to call back later. So much for the superior reliability of landlines. I switched to Vonage, cut my phone bill in half, and now just have to deal with Comcast for all my telecommunications services. (I complain about Comcast but, truth be told, aside from their crappy DVRs, their performance has been exemplary, at least from a signal standpoint. In the past 16 months I can't remember a single outage.)
But I digress.
Because of the literally hundreds of feet of legacy cabling stuffed in the ceiling above my head, I was never able to reconfigure my office the way I really wanted. So I decided to quit procrastinating, pull everything down, and rewire the entire enchilada.
As the picture above shows, my office now looks like the bridge of the U.S.S. Reliant following the Enterprise's sneak attack in Star Trek II.
I'm about 20% through. Misty, my unofficial liaison to the lower mammals in the household, has stayed with me through the ordeal. The other pups and the cats come down only when nature calls. They nervously glance upward at the ceiling, then hurry through to the safety of the back door or litter box. I keep telling them the sagging lines are low-voltage signal cables and not ac power runs, but I don't think they believe me.
The goal is to get this done by the end of the week, which is probably doable with a couple late nights after work.
Provided I can teach Misty how to wire the mini-PBX.
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It helps to have a fully-equipped workspace.
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(YouTube video: "Going Home: Finding Peace When Pets Die)
By now you must know there is always a goodbye hovering in the shadow of a dog. We are never here for long, or for long enough. We were never meant to share all of your life, only to mark its passages. We come and we go. We come when we are needed; we leave when it is time. Death is necessary; it defines life. I will see you again. I will watch over you. I hope in your grief and loneliness, that you will consider how sad it would have been, had we not had this time together; not had the chance to give each other so much. I do not mourn or grieve. But I will miss standing beside you, bound together on our walk through life. Even as I know, there is a long line of others waiting to take my place and stand with you. Thank you. It was nothing but a gift.
Remembering Deja, Sasha, Quark, and Beanie.
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Déjà
February 15, 1997 - September 18, 2011
She possessed beauty without vanity;
dignity without pretentiousness;
intelligence
without conceit;
strength without insolence;
loyalty without
condition;
courage without ferocity;
love without reservation;
the
virtues of humans
without their vices.
(Adapted from Lord Byron's epitaph for his dog)
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Needs more cowbell.
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Recent late-night political jokes, from Daniel Kurtzman's Political Humor Blog on About.com.
(YouTube video: The Republican debate in 45 seconds.)
The Republican presidential candidates will have a debate at the Reagan
Library. They were going to have it at the George W. Bush Library but
they couldn't fit all eight of them in the bouncy house.
-Conan O'Brien
People are saying that Rick Perry is really tough because he has
executed over 200 people. And that was just while he was on vacation in
Florida.
-Conan O'Brien
The oil industry said if they were allowed to drill more, they could
create over a million new jobs. Of course most of those jobs would be
cleaning oil off ducks.
-Conan O'Brien
To give an idea of how bad the economy is, the NFL had to borrow the
quarter for the coin toss from China. And they want it back.
-Conan O'Brien
In Iowa Sarah Palin ran a half marathon and came in second place. Of
course no one saw her do it, because she refused to tell anyone she was
running.
-Conan O'Brien
Dick Cheney says Hillary Clinton would have made a better president than
Barack Obama. Then he got back in his coffin.
-David Letterman
The Republican debate was on earlier tonight. Side effects may include
nausea, vomiting and sexual dysfunction.
-David Letterman
Michele Bachmann is dropping rapidly in the polls. If she loses three
more points she goes on 'Dancing with the Stars.'
-David Letterman
Homeland Security is saying you may no longer have to remove your shoes
when you fly. Welcome to the golden age of travel. I just hope they
don’t stop wanding my inner thighs.
-David Letterman
During the Republican debate, every time they mentioned Ronald Reagan, I
ate a jelly bean. And now I have type two diabetes.
-Jimmy Kimmel
This is the first debate Rick Perry has participated in since he
announced his candidacy. Perry is a mix between George W. Bush and
Yosemite W. Sam.
-Jimmy Kimmel
Sarah Palin ran an unannounced half marathon in Iowa. Wait, did she run
a half marathon or run half a marathon and quit? Is there anything Sarah
Palin can’t do half of?
-Jimmy Kimmel
The Republican debate got pretty heated. They spent most of their time
arguing over who God called first.
-Jay Leno
Michele Bachmann said that if she is elected president, she would
consider eliminating the Department of Education because "the states
could do a gooder job."
-Jay Leno
Ford is building a new plant that will create 5,000 jobs in India. Or as
Obama put it, "You've got to be kidding me!"
–Jimmy
Fallon
Sunday is the 10th anniversary of 9/11, which means it can only be
another five years before we discover Saddam Hussein’s WMDs.
-Stephen Colbert
Categories: Animals, Craig Ferguson, Political Jokes of the Week, Stephen Colbert, WTF?
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Misty is 12 today. She's the elegant, Lauren Bacall-ish member of our Sheltie pack. Time for a belly rub and a piece of toast...
Categories: Animals, Dogs, KGB Family
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Oh noes! We iz out of coffee!!
Categories: Animals, Dogs, Photo of the day
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Well, really, my granddaughter Leanna and her dog, Bella. The resemblance is striking, though. Next time I see her, I'm going to check for fins.
Categories: Animals, Dogs, KGB Family, Photo of the day
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« Andy Warhol
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One of 52,045 quotations from the KGB Quotations Database, selected by Random Text. Click here to search for words, authors or phrases. Search page design and software contributed by Rafal Sulejman.
How Network Solutions, Inc. Made Me A Child Pornographer
Brief History of the Gregorian Calendar
Requiem for a fictional Scotsman
Oh My God! They Killed Library!! Those Bastards!!!
Americans United for the Separation of Church and State
The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
Evolution is science. Intelligent Design is religion.
Unitarian Universalist Church of the South Hills
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