Blatheration

Perfeshional journalism

This item appeared in yesterday's Herald Leader, the outstanding local paper which is published twice weekly:

I have been back home for 9 weeks and have been placing ads in this paper since then.  And they wonder why papers like this are losing readers.

A call to the editor revealed that he "got it in his e-mail" but didn't know the source.  What is particularly amusing is that not only do I spend my meager funds on this paper as an advertising venue, but that there is a big "OPEN" flag on the front of my office 3 blocks from the newspaper office. In fact, I can see the place from the front doorway. I sure wish he would have called to verify.  My only guess is that papers like this have to hire cheap help, so they get brand new grads to fill the slot. Any legal minds out there think I have a case here?

In the interest of full disclosure, I was once employed by this very paper back when it was a family owned concern, before the Walton Family Foundation bought it (the rich Waltons, not the John-Boy ones).  My job was to cover the Junior High Sports beat.  When I found out they were paying by the inch, I started submitting articles by describing every single play. Mr. Perrine decided it wasn't worth all the editing, so I was fired at the tender age of 14.  They never had to correct any material facts or spelling, though.

Miss Lucy is currently doing time in exile for depositing unwanted organic matter in my office.  That makes twice in two days.  I heard her whimpering, but ignored it as her just being a puppy.  Well they do that, too. She has managed to dismember a sock monkey in record time and was very well behaved on our fabulous trip to...Elk City Oklahoma (strangely, "Home of the Elks").  #1 Son is drudging away on his job out there, but is always glad to have company to help out with his alcohol and food overstock problem.  No need to thank me, buddy.  Mrs. Pixie was, however, unable to join us due to prior obligation as a wedding prop.  I thought the bridesmaids were supposed to be uglier than the bride.  What gives?

While I'm on the subject

Of Doggers, that is.  The "nice people over at Ace's have provided this:  (actually, I stole it but whatever)

How to give your pet self esteem problems:

Something tells me that the contents of those "thrusters" was somehow involved.

Further research (goofing off on the internets) along with a visit to Dr. Woody, the local veteranarian has revealed that the previously mentioned dogger is not, after all, of the Border collie breed but is in fact probably 'bout 1/2 this guy:

 

I've never seen one but it's called a Plott Hound.  Good Dr. Woody mentioned that though he's been a Vet for 40 years or so, he had never seen one until recently.  Now there are 5 or 6 in the vicinity.  Sneaky neighbor dog indeed.  Must have climbed a tree and dropped over the fence.

Anyway, she seems to be a bright and well behaved pooch, but that has a way of changing.  Stay tuned.

Sporadic update:

No news is good news.  Which sounds kind of stupid, really.  No news is NO news.  Let's leave it at that, shall we?

Gramma Tudi has not lost any of her hair and has developed quite an appetite.  Way to face down the beast, Gramma Tudi.

Regular acolytes of this 'blog will recall the sad post about Miss Dolly, the world's smartest dog who had to be put down after a long and productive life.  You will also recall that I, Doc Lee, was firmly set on not having another dog.  Well, I lied.  Yesterday we (and by "we" of course, I mean "me without consulting Mrs. Doclee on the matter".  She would have just said "no" anyway, so why bother.) adopted the following:

 This is Miss Lucy. Shown here in the process of destroying a ball that had somehow made it's way over the wall of the compound. 

Anyway, she is four whole months old and is the product of a Labrador Retriever and a sneaky neighbor dog, reportedly of the nefarious Border Collie Breed.  Judging by her treatment of Mr. Murphy (Miss Sunshine, formerly known as Mrs. Grumbles' little brown pup) last night, I would tend to concur.  He didn't like it, but he got herded anyway.  Wimp.

Here's another:

Nice smile.  She has already caught on the the lead and ran with me for about a mile yesterday, poops outside and has yet to destroy anything of value except for Mr. Buddy's personal boundaries.  He's a cat though, so no big deal. 

Right now, she's under Miss Crabgrass' desk chair (Memo to self:  Miss C is not at her desk.  Investigate.) attempting to chew a wheel off without my notice.  She's going to have to be more clever than that if she wants to pull off the big crimes.

Feel free to patronize our sponsors.

I see from the little advertising thingy over on the right, that Infiniti Automobiles has seen fit to advertise on this here 'blog.  Excellent.  Mrs. Doclee has expressed a preference for this make.  Specifically, she would like a G 37 convertible (though she informs me that a coupe would do "in a pinch").  Now, since that ad is going to generate about .06 over the next few weeks, I'm going to have to ask you, dear reader, to come back to this page ALL THE TIME, and if you have any friends or relatives, to have them do the same. 

 Why?  Because, A:  the more times the counter thingy clicks from a visitor, the higher the number, and the higher the number, the more money Infinity, that Batman Video game, Adobe and the new ones have to pay up. And B: Because the comfort and style of Mrs. Doclee deserve nothing less, though she has a perfectly good car right now, though it is purple (actually "sunrise red metallic" NOT one of Ford's better ideas).  White or silver being the preferred colors.

Tell you what I'm going to do (oh my, now I sound like my car-salesman Dad).  If you cause many hits to be made on this site.  I will try to give you a reason to come here.  When the necessary number of hits have been made to allow Mrs. Doclee to purchase her new car (currently projected to be summer 2039) you, or your designated heir will get a drive in it.  Hey, by then the hovering version should be available.  Cool.

Famous relatives

Everyone has had a brush with celebrity.  Mrs. Doclee has a sister who is married to someone who works for a Major Celebrity, and since they live in Hollywood California, they see famous people all the time, I bet.  Here in the Ozarks, we have to pretty much take what we can get.  I went to school with a guy who is now mayor of our fair city.  He won the election over another guy who we both went to school with by six votes and told me that he pretty much would strangle those six people if he knew who they were.  He was kidding, of course.  Mayor Dave was always a kidder.  He even made Dracula into a comedy at the Siloam Springs Little theatre and pool hall.  He's that famous.

Another local celebrity is (was) the lady who used to play one of Samantha Stevens's goofy aunts on the old Bewitched Teevee show. I just found that out yesterday because Mrs. Doclee informed me that she had been interred in our own Oak Hill Cemetary over the weekend. 

Pat Boone, the heavy metal artist used to own local Dayspring (Christian) greeting card company, but sold it to Hallmark.

Paul Harvey's wife gave the local Christian college (John Brown University, est. 1919 by the eponymous John Brown) a bunch of bucks for a new liberry.  I don't know if she's from here, but it's a nice one.  Note to Spellchecker:  I know, I know, but that's how we spell it around here.

Then there's this:  My very own cousin:

 

It looks like he did a bad thing: Terrible manners.  Gramma Tudi, who is his mom's sister says he looks just like Grampa Hammer, who I just vaguely remember, since he went to his (probably surprising) reward back in '69.  

We haven't seen much of him since Family Vacation, 1975 when it was apparent to most of us that he had grown from a wierd child into a wierd teenager.  He seems to have spent most of the intervening years either in jail or on his way to jail.   Bad wiring, I guess.  We all hope he gets cured of it.

Update:  Truck still not done, Day 297.

Gramma confounds Big Pharma

The first round goes to Gramma Tudi.  After being promised all the horrors of hell on earth as the reward for undergoing chemotherapy, she reported post procedure that she hadn't felt so good in weeks.  Take that, pharmaceutical company.  Keep up the good work Gramma Tudi. Way to make them wrong.

Mrs.Doclee and I spent a relaxing weekend installing insulation and drywall in Miss Sunshine's (formerly Mrs. Grumbles) room addition.  I seem to be spending a lot of time over there, considering that I am on the record as opposing the very existence of the thing.  Be that as it may, the entire project should be done in the next few weeks.  Building Inspector Jody has been bought off and the funds have finally been made available (thank you Miss Goldilocks and Miss Highpockets for your support.  Also Mr. Grizzlebaar.)

Once the sheetrock is done, the acrimonious debate over choice of floor covering will commence.  The early battle lines were drawn Saturday when Mrs. Doclee suggested some type of durable commercial type carpet that can stand up to Mrs. Stumblebump's inevitable spills and tiremarks.  Miss Sunshine, who will be sharing quarters with Mrs. Stumblebump has indicated a rather strong preference for some type of hard, smooth surface that can be easily cleaned.  If Doclee were asked his opinion, he would advise fresh straw every few days.  That is why his opinion is not usually sought.

IMPORTANT:  Auntie Ruth in West Hollywood (a regular reader of this 'blog and therefore a soul of solid judgement and sterling character) has graced my office with a rare adornment; a genuine Rat Fink Bobblehead (though it's really more of a bobblebody) air fresh'ner.  It has been placed among my valuable collection of dust collectors, right next to the Alfred E. Neuman Marvel Comics "Flash"action figure and assortment of plastic dinosaurs.  It will eventually take the place of the hula girl on the dash of my sleek '71 Ford F-100...if Ed the Body Man ever gets it done.  While I'm at it, girls:  Ed is available again, having gotten tired of what's her name's s**t. 

Mea Culpa...please make the beating stop.

Mrs. Doclee, having decided that her living room furniture no longer met her needs, decided top "just go look" at potential replacements for her now disreputable sofa and chair. After driving many miles and sitting on, poking, and making nuisances of ourselves at every furniture store in Washington county, a lovely wicker and white canvas set was decided upon.  Unfortunately, it (1) would have to be ordered, and (2) was really expensive.  

Luckily, we weren't going to buy anything at that time.  Right up until we did so, though incurring much less expense.  A lovely white ultrasuede sofa and matching chair:

Kinda like this here.  Now, like men everywhere, I could care less about furniture, as long as the stains aren't too sticky and there isn't too much hair on it.  Buying furniture is really just expensive fore-play.  Not as cheap as doing laundry, but still...

Of course, regular readers of this 'blog will be reminded that I do not have access to my beautiful and reliable '71 Ford F-100 Sport Custom with upgraded suspension and optional oil bath air filter because Ed the body man is in hypo-drive mode for some reason (see many previous posts).  At any rate, Grampa John to the rescue and the loan of his sleek '07 Ford F-150 super-cab and optional Maynard hair upholstery.

All this to avoid a $90.00 delivery charge.  The deal was done, truck loaded and off we went.  The following conversation was seared, seared into my memory:

Mrs. Doclee:  "Are we tied down?"

Me:  "Yes, get in"

Mrs. Doclee:  "Are you sure?"

Me:  "Yes, I've done this before.  Now get in." (Reader, you know where this is heading, right?)

Once on the highway

Mrs. Doclee:  "It looks loose to me."

Me:  "I'm watching it right through these mirrors, I see it.  Please relax."

Mrs. Doclee obviously not relaxing:  "It still looks loose."

Mrs. Doclee:  "OH MY GOD!"

Me, slamming on the impressive four wheel disc brakes:  "Whoa, S**t"

It was just the chair, achieving liftoff and bouncing along the pavement at 65 mph.  Fortunately, the boys at Sam's Discount furniture and pool hall did a fine job of wrapping our purchases, so that other than the fabric of both arms being scraped off and the padding sticking out a little, it was just fine.  It was reloaded, strapped down tightly (and double checked) and delivery recommenced.  The conversation on the way home was somewhat subdued:

Mrs. Doclee:

Me:

(repeat)

Once it was properly arranged, it did manage to look fabulous despite minor manglement.  There is a lesson in here somewhere, but at least I haven't had to spend a night on the couch...yet.

In other news, Gramma Tudi is back at home and eating real food with her own teeth.  Yay for her.  

Mrs. Doclee has also acquired yet another spinning wheel, though has yet to spin a single skein.  Perhaps she would enjoy a pet sheep or two.  That would definitely be better than seeing me wash dishes.

Dire Warning to the hired help.

This was written by a Dr. Zero and shamefully stolen from the folks over at Hot Air. 

Apparently, our elected officials have a hard time understanding the people the were hired to represent.  This sounds like the perfect opening speech for the launch of my new political party.  I call it the "Mind Your Own Business" Party.  More about that soon.  Meanwhile, enjoy:

There seems to be a bit of confusion among Democrats about the nature of the opposition to their plans. Maybe I can help clear things up, by telling them a few things about us.

We’re not paid minions of any corporate interest or lobby. Most bloggers working to stop the Obama health-care disaster are like me, writing when they can find the time, because we care about the future of our country. The same is true of the people showing up at town hall meetings, and organizing rallies. Some of us are well-dressed in tailored suits. Others wear jeans and T-shirts. Most of us are dressed in what we wore to work.

Our support for a massive government program does not increase when you tell us we’re not allowed to ask questions about it.

We’re not racists. We’re also not racialists. We don’t think a wise Latina is inherently more qualified to do anything than a wise Asian woman, a wise white woman, or a wise white man. We’re tired of being fed excuses for high government offices staffed by anything but the best people for the job. There are too many high government offices, so we’d like some of Obama’s absurdly incompetent appointees to take their titles with them when they leave. We remember what it was like when we got rid of the Clinton mob, so we’ll be conducting inventories on the contents of those vacated offices, before we turn out the lights and pour cement in the locks.

We don’t like having to fight desperate battles to save our freedom and future from socialist politicians every ten or twenty years. We don’t like having our time wasted with trillion-dollar statist fantasies, when our government is already trillions of dollars in the red. We’re tired of checking the papers each day, to see which group of us has been targeted as enemies of the State. We’re growing impatient waiting for the Democrats to come up with ideas that don’t require their supporters to hate someone. We’ve had our fill of “progressives” who act as if we’re living in 1909, and none of their diseased policies have ever been tried before.

We believe government should be punished for failing to live up to the expectations of its citizens, not the other way around. We don’t think people who destroy thousands of jobs and billions of dollars in market value should get a pass because they meant well. We’ve had enough of dodging a massive State that wants to organize, subsidize, penalize, and divide us. We refuse to pay tithe to a religion we don’t support, including the official State religion of global warming. We demand honesty, humility, and transparency from our public servants, no matter how many elections they’ve won. We won’t settle for making the only important decisions about our futures in the voting booth, once every couple of years.

We don’t blame people for showing up to grab their share of a government handout. We blame the people who stole the money from the rest of us, and put it on the table for them. We don’t think respect for private property ends at a certain income level, or that only some people should be applauded for doing their best to get ahead in life. We believe in the power and righteousness of capitalism, the exchange of goods and services between free people acting in their own best interests. There is no moral substitute for it. Every other scheme for governing human affairs amounts to a few dominating some, to the applause of others. Our freedom is not for sale, and we reserve the right to defend it from theft.

We don’t invest our hopes in the government. It is beneath the dignity of free men and women to spend their days hoping a politician decides to provide for our needs. We face the future, not with passive and helpless “hope”, but with active and dynamic faith in ourselves, and our fellow Americans. We are opposed to a political class that tries to cultivate our hopes by showering us with fear. We don’t trust politicians with our fortunes, much less with our lives. In fact, we don’t trust politicians much at all… but we absolutely require them to trust us.

We do not regard America as the sole country on Earth that should be forbidden from taking pride in its history, traditions, and achievements. We reject the notion that celebrating our traditions is an automatic insult to anyone else. We owe absolutely no apologies to murderous dictators or unelected tyrants, and we care little for their feelings. We believe there are many lessons to be learned from our history, by all the people of the world, and we cannot teach those lessons if we allow ourselves to be shamed into silence. We will never hesitate to call evil by its proper name, or give evil men good reasons to fear us.

New visitor

This here is Mr. Murphy.  He managed to follow Miss Sunshine (formerly Mrs. Grumbles) home yesterday despite the fact that she was driving a car and he was not:

He is supposedly 3/4 Lab and 1/4 German Shepard (or Alsatian for you Brits).  He has a large head and large feet and pretty much sleeps all day, when he's not whining.  He does seem to like a good whine. Actually, he's doing that while he sleeps right now.  Multitasking dog.  Genius.

In other news, Gramma Tudi has finally been able to eat and has been reported to occasionally wander the hallways, the better to opine to the staff.  She's doing a whole lot better and should be able to head back home soon.  Wait until she sees the decorating job Maynard (the world's smartest dog) has done on her house.  Priceless. Good thing for her he has an appetite for peanut butter rather than red velvet sofa cushions.

#1 Son has informed us that he is to go over to the "dark side" and begin a career in the Army as a helicopter pilot.  He tried a few years ago but his eyesight was inadequate.  Now, however, thanks to the magic of Lasix and a credit card, he is apparently a "go".  Too soon to tell for sure, but good luck to him anyway.

Also, Ed has still not got my truck painted.  That's 10 months and counting.