Saint Vitus (dancing mania) was a social phenomenon that occurred primarily in mainland Europe between the 14th and 18th centuries. It involved groups of people, sometimes thousands at a time, who danced uncontrollably and bizarrely. Men, women, and children would dance through the streets of towns or cities, sometimes foaming at the mouth until they collapsed from fatigue.
Saint Fido has recently decided that he should "dance" on his hind feet while attempting to manipulate the door handle on the back door to the house with a front paw.
He's getting close, but he aint' quite got the door to open yet? If he does and tunes the TV to "Dancing With The Stars", we might have to get that varmit tested or sumpthin?
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Yard Poop
Fido (stray dawg) recently "adopted" the Tin Star as his principle abode.
Seein' as how the beautiful bride has apparently declared semi-permanent residence for the cretin, the ranch hand has been trying to put a positive spin on the situation.
Maybe creating a partial list of perceived "advantages" to the other male at the ranch might help?
1. The varmit tracks mud in the house with FOUR feet (covering the tracks of yours truly).
2. His shameless farting allows the transference of blame when he is proximate.
3. Watchin' the dude "sniff" wimmenfolk is a hoot.
4. It wags, shakes, shivers, moans and groans with pleasure at the slightest kindness
(makin' me wish we had trained our kids better?)
5. Both of us think the postman mostly brings crap, so we are suspicious of him.
6. The dawg seems trainable, the ranch hand long since AIN'T.
7. Fido's mom has never tried to visit at the ranch.
8. He NEVER goes shopping.
9. The ranch hand only has to dump table scraps in Fido's bowl to feel like a culinary genius.
....and the ranch hand's personal favorite: he don't poop in the yard!
OK, that's enough, the moocher can stay another day or three?
Seein' as how the beautiful bride has apparently declared semi-permanent residence for the cretin, the ranch hand has been trying to put a positive spin on the situation.
Maybe creating a partial list of perceived "advantages" to the other male at the ranch might help?
1. The varmit tracks mud in the house with FOUR feet (covering the tracks of yours truly).
2. His shameless farting allows the transference of blame when he is proximate.
3. Watchin' the dude "sniff" wimmenfolk is a hoot.
4. It wags, shakes, shivers, moans and groans with pleasure at the slightest kindness
(makin' me wish we had trained our kids better?)
5. Both of us think the postman mostly brings crap, so we are suspicious of him.
6. The dawg seems trainable, the ranch hand long since AIN'T.
7. Fido's mom has never tried to visit at the ranch.
8. He NEVER goes shopping.
9. The ranch hand only has to dump table scraps in Fido's bowl to feel like a culinary genius.
....and the ranch hand's personal favorite: he don't poop in the yard!
OK, that's enough, the moocher can stay another day or three?
Sunday, February 14, 2010
OBITUARIES
Ever noticed how "ole folks" read the obituaries more religiously than others.
The ranch hand used to think that was curious. Now he are one?
Ya see folks you knew, folks you wish you had known, and weird stuff?
However, wouldn't it be more interesting if obituaries included more information:
Ya see a picture of a long hair, tattooed dude with a "f*** you" look on his face and wonder if the "obit" should say, "Booger John was drunk on his ass when he mounted his Harley, handed Imogene his beer, and said, watch this shit cause ain't nobody gonna believe it!"
Ya see a pic of a sweet ole woman with an angelic face and wonder if there should include verbiage about her wild college days where she bucked common morals by raising her skirt to knee length and exposed her arms to a tanning sun while secretly sipping a prohibition era adult beverage? (and did she pre-date Booger John in getting a tattoo, but kept it hidden all her life?)
Ya see the heartbreaking image of a child and wonder about the lifetime of experiences that will be missed.
Nothing too deep here, just some random thoughts from an ole fart who has become an habitual obituary reader?
The ranch hand used to think that was curious. Now he are one?
Ya see folks you knew, folks you wish you had known, and weird stuff?
However, wouldn't it be more interesting if obituaries included more information:
Ya see a picture of a long hair, tattooed dude with a "f*** you" look on his face and wonder if the "obit" should say, "Booger John was drunk on his ass when he mounted his Harley, handed Imogene his beer, and said, watch this shit cause ain't nobody gonna believe it!"
Ya see a pic of a sweet ole woman with an angelic face and wonder if there should include verbiage about her wild college days where she bucked common morals by raising her skirt to knee length and exposed her arms to a tanning sun while secretly sipping a prohibition era adult beverage? (and did she pre-date Booger John in getting a tattoo, but kept it hidden all her life?)
Ya see the heartbreaking image of a child and wonder about the lifetime of experiences that will be missed.
Nothing too deep here, just some random thoughts from an ole fart who has become an habitual obituary reader?
Saturday, February 13, 2010
BAD DECISIONS
Bad decisions make good stories.
As a yonker, the ranch hand decided "stealin'" papuh's watermelons would be more fun than just asking him for one. (didn't figger on falling in the bull nettles in the dark while carrying out the purloinment of the free fruit?)
Became a teen and was hell bent on being "grown up" by smoking cigarettes? That is a special kind of first time "sick" when ya suck down an unfiltered Camel or two?
Got "full grown" as a baby Trooper and figgered could wade into a crowded mex bar in south San Antone and "whup 'em all". WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!
Tackled all ya could eat menus, tried to out-figger Gene Waller, and reincarnated a 1959 Willis Jeep into a Chevy powered "jump the front wheels off the ground" pavement pounder?
The miracle is that the ole fat boy lived to tell the "tales". Who woulda figgered?
Bad decisions make good stories?
As a yonker, the ranch hand decided "stealin'" papuh's watermelons would be more fun than just asking him for one. (didn't figger on falling in the bull nettles in the dark while carrying out the purloinment of the free fruit?)
Became a teen and was hell bent on being "grown up" by smoking cigarettes? That is a special kind of first time "sick" when ya suck down an unfiltered Camel or two?
Got "full grown" as a baby Trooper and figgered could wade into a crowded mex bar in south San Antone and "whup 'em all". WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!
Tackled all ya could eat menus, tried to out-figger Gene Waller, and reincarnated a 1959 Willis Jeep into a Chevy powered "jump the front wheels off the ground" pavement pounder?
The miracle is that the ole fat boy lived to tell the "tales". Who woulda figgered?
Bad decisions make good stories?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)