Monthly Archives: January 2017

Scientifical Dog-Poop Theories

c360_2017-01-03-21-40-18-852

I have been taking note of the Republican approach to science as displayed repeatedly in Congress.  I decided that this is the kind of science that can best explain the dog-poop phenomena, since it is, ultimately, about how the data feels more than measuring and quantifying and dealing with, you know, those fact thingies.

20150603_1122

You see, the problem comes in with the fact that my dog, Jade, is producing dog poop at record levels, and it is all becoming rather a burden.   Now the dog-poop literature, (yes it does exist, since dog lovers write about anything and everything to do with dogs), says that it is not uncommon for a healthy young dog to poop as much as 5 times a day.  But my dog seems to poop exactly one time more per day than the number of times you take her for a walk.  If we go out five times, she poops six.  If I take her out in the middle of the night for a sixth time, she poops seven.  What the heck?

My wife really hates the dog because she poops on the carpet so much.  (The dog, not my wife.  My wife is satisfactorily house-broken.)  There are places on the living room carpet she marked as a puppy five years ago where she insists on re-pooping practically every night.  No matter how often we scrub the carpet and box her ears, still, brown spots and poop lumps to greet us almost every morning.  Maybe she does it because my wife tells her how much she hates her and the dog wants to get even.  But that is the opposite of what the dog says.  She loves Mommy because Mommy gives the dog soup bones.  Somehow, it seems the dog believes she is giving us all a gift by pooping on the carpet and filling the house with her personal scent.  She poops for us because she loves us.

1836798_529426233843470_766473335_o

Here Jade Beyer is busy using Henry’s computer. She has her own Facebook page and everything.

I drew the diagram at the start of this article to better explain my Republicanized theories of dog poop and dog love.  You will notice that, based on observations of total output, I have theorized that dogs must be almost completely hollow.  They don’t apparently store poop in their legs, but the rest of their dog bodies appear to be hollow poop-tubes that store nearly infinite amounts of poo.  Dogs also apparently have some kind of instant-poop-maker at the base of the throat so that anything they eat, dog food, my missing left socks, my son’s retainer, dead rats, whatever was growing behind the rice bag in the pantry, and whatever people food they can steal, is instantly transformed into poop.  Need to poop on the floor because dad didn’t give you any of the bacon at breakfast?  Eat a sock.  Fill up with instant poop ammo.  The poop on the floor will prove how much you love dad and why he should give you bacon more.

So, now that I have studied the poop problem, what solutions could there be?

Well, I have threatened the dog to use corks and other sorts of plugs, but that wouldn’t solve the problem so much as merely delay it.  And I dread the impending explosion in the living room that such a plan suggests to a vivid imagination like mine.  I have thought about feeding her less, but it seems she can still use the puppy beg-eye to such good effect that she could subsist entirely on people food conned out of my son and daughter.  So, I will use a Republican congressional solution.  Since their response to poverty is to give more money to rich people, and the solution to climate change is to cut pollution restrictions, then obviously I need to feed my dog MORE!  I need to cram it down her greedy little throat if necessary.  That will fix it.  Or bring about fat, exploding dogs all the sooner.

 

6 Comments

Filed under family dog, feeling sorry for myself, goofiness, goofy thoughts, humor, Paffooney

Albinoni’s Adagio in G Minor

You should listen to the music.  Not only is it beautiful, it is the perfect description of the now.  Yes, I am a touch depressed, and the music is deep blue.  But there are such strains of the bittersweet and angelic light, that Albinoni must be speaking directly from his heart into mine.  This music paints my soul.

c360_2016-12-27-07-57-11-113

The sky reflects my mood with lurking dark blues and obscuring clouds incapable of completely taking away the sun.  I finally had enough money to visit the doctor today.  I had an infection in throat and sinus.  I got medicine to heal the sores, and the medicine will prevent pneumonia, and probably saved my life.

c360_2017-01-02-05-14-38-246

My family was whole and together for the holidays, though three of us were sick for a good share of it and unable to spend the time together  as we would’ve liked.  Still, even though we had to take number one son to DFW Airport in the rain and send him back to Marine world, we got to see him and share good times with him, no matter how short.  Deep blue with angelic violins of musical light.  He made it back safely.  I have more days and probably more months to live and write.  And the music of existence continues to quietly play.

c360_2016-11-26-08-31-03-750

I continue to collect photos of new dawns.  Here is December 27th.

It is possible that Tomaso Albinoni did not write the Adagio in G Minor.  It is believed that it was cobbled together as a sort of hoax by his chief transcriber, Remo Giazotto.  He apparently took old Dresden manuscripts and made this beautiful piece as a reflection of the work of Albinoni.  Albinoni,a prolific composer of the 1700’s, beloved by Johan Sebastian Bach, wrote opera scores that never quite got published, and so,even though he is a composer of many musical works, most of them are lost to history.  Yet, how can such a thing be considered a fake?  The music touches my soul.  From Albinoni’s soul, through Giazotto’s, to mine, and, hopefully, thence to yours.  Listen to it.  Really listen.  You can’t help but understand what I mean.  Even if you can’t stand classical music.  Though, if you truly can’t stand classical music… I weep for thee.

1 Comment

Filed under classical music, commentary, Depression, family, feeling sorry for myself, forgiveness, humor, illness, old art, review of music, strange and wonderful ideas about life

Stardusters… Canto 28

galtorr-primex-1

Canto Twenty-Eight – On the Gundahl Moon Base

“I am not leaving Starbright here to die alone on an alien moon, Commander.  You will have to skortch me before I agree to that!”

“I would be happy to do exactly that if I had permission to pick up a skortch ray!”  Biznap glared back at the angry, stupid, stubborn Fmoog, as Farbick was quite busily glaring at him.  Why couldn’t the blogwopping Skoog monkey accept that Biznap had generously bargained to save his neck because… after all, Farbick was the only capable spacer that Biznap really had on the whole blogwopping space ship!  (It should probably be noted that Biznap’s conscience was screaming at him in Harmony’s voice that he should never use a curse word like blogwopping out loud, but his wounded pride was also screaming back that blogwopping Harmony Castille didn’t know what blogwopping meant anyway!)

“You are giving these creatures more credit than they deserve, you know.  Nothing is really stopping you from marching in there and picking up practically any of the devices they confiscated and use them to turn them inside out in the most painful way possible.”

Okay.  You had to give Farbick credit.  He was smarter than most Tellerons would be confronted by a tough situation like this.  It was one of the reasons Biznap didn’t want to part with him too.  But he was so blogwopping stubborn because of that bloopo Fmoogian blood of his!  “And stop it, Harmony!  I am not saying blogwopping out loud!” he said out loud.

“What?”  Both Farbick and Starbright looked confused.

“Well, I mean… you know… Harmony, she’s always saying… and I can’t… well…  Oh, just shut up!  Will you?  Especially you, Harmony Castille!”

Farbick started laughing.

“What are you laughing about?”

“You love her a lot, don’t you,” said Farbick.  “I mean, you even hear her voice when she’s not around.”

Biznap was suddenly cold.  “Yes…  I mean…  I really need to live to see her again.  I guess that’s why I let them railroad me into such a terrible bargain.”

“It doesn’t have to be as terrible as you think,” said Farbick in a surprisingly calm voice.  “You have left to them a majority of our complex and high level technology.  You can tell them I am staying with Starbright because I can explain how to use some of the devices she’s not familiar with.  You can tell them they can eat me too.”

“No, Farbick.  You should come with me back to the mother ship.”

“It will be all right, Commander.  There are things I can demonstrate in that selection of technology that I will be more than happy to demonstrate directly on the two of them.  You may be able to come back here and claim this moon base for our people when I’m done.”

Starbright was obviously thrilled with Farbick’s plan.  She wrapped her arms around the Fmoog and squeezed him tightly in the same affectionate way that Biznap remembered Harmony doing to him.  It was obvious why Farbick wanted to stay.

“It’s your life to throw away as you see fit,” said Biznap.

“Don’t you think Farbick can out-think them, Commander?” Starbright asked with nervous eyes.

“Of course he can’t.  Tellerons are hopeless at things like this.  We should all be dead already.  But I do want to get the space ship away from these horrible lizard-guys, and Farbick’s plan is a lot better than no plan.  Well… fifteen per cent better, anyway.”

*****

20160809_084401

 

1 Comment

Filed under aliens, humor, novel, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney, science fiction

For the Love of Reading!

c360_2017-01-02-10-17-06-058

Yes, I know it looks awkwardly painful to read on the floor in a scroochy position like that, but that was me as a kid.  I was the awkwardest nerd in Wright County, Iowa, when I was a boy.  But Dr. Seuss taught me early on to read and enjoy the imaginary worlds that reading created in my stupid little head.

I don’t remember the first actual book I read, other than to firmly believe it was a Dr. Seuss book like Yertle the Turtle, or Horton Hears a Who!  But I do remember the first chapter book, the first great adventure.  It was The White Stag by Kate Seredy.  It was the Newberry Medal winner published in 1937, and told the mythical journey of Hunor and Magyar, two brothers and leaders of two peoples who are on an epic quest to find the land where they belong by following a magical white stag.

the_white_stag

I was nine when I read and fell in love with that book.  I picked it off Miss Mennenga’s reading shelf because it was a simple red book with a plain red cover (the paper illustrated book cover had long since disintegrated in kids’ hands over time.)  Red was my favorite color.

But I fell in love with the movie version that unfolded in my mind’s eye.  It was when I learned to dive so deeply into a  book that the characters became real to me.

The following year when I was ten the book was Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson.  Jim Hawkins was my best friend that year.  That was followed by Rudyard Kipling’s First Jungle Book.  I walked around the jungle with Mowgli and Bagheera the black panther for quite a while after that.

I think it is important to often look back on the beginnings of things.  This is the story of how I became a reader for life.  And it matters now that I am furiously trying to cram in more books of all sorts before the end.  The journey nears completion, and it helps to focus on what goals and what loves I had at the outset.  Will there be reading in Heaven?  I hope so.  Otherwise, truthfully, I may not go.

3 Comments

Filed under autobiography, book review, Dr. Seuss, education, humor, reading, self portrait, strange and wonderful ideas about life

Gingerbread House 2016

20151224_191050xx (640x616)

You may recall that as a family project my children and I committed harrowing acts of gingerbread construction last holiday season, creating the quaint little hovel seen above, a domicile that both Hansel and Gretel would obviously love… to eat.

And then gravity promptly destroyed it within minutes after the pictures were taken.

Demonstrating our annual inability to learn from our mistakes, we did it again this year.  This time with a little less frosting and sugar, to save my diabetes from the consequences of my lack of self control  After all, if the gingerbread house falls down, you have to eat it, right?

c360_2016-12-31-14-42-28-319

So I started with a cheaper kit with far less added sugar froo-froos.  Less temptation to eat the extras while working, don’t ya know.

c360_2016-12-31-15-05-05-502

The Princess and I used butter knives to cut grooves in the end pieces, thinking in our own smug little way, “I bet that will help keep the thing from falling down before we get a decent chance to play with it and take pictures.”

c360_2016-12-31-15-17-41-140

Then we set about decorating the pieces.

And as we put it together, I thought of one more creatively goofy trick in a vain attempt to hold the roof on.  After all, we had completely forgotten to put notches in the roof pieces before weighing them down with icing and gumdrops.  Voila!  Crosspieces made with uncooked fettuccine noodles!

c360_2016-12-31-15-59-23-305

c360_2016-12-31-16-08-27-709

See the noodles?  Notice how they transfer weight stress directly onto the load-bearing walls?

c360_2016-12-31-16-10-43-268aaa

And before you could say, “This is a wonderful little house for a witch to live in, one who eats children!” and make Hansel wet his pants, we had a frosted gingerbread house.

c360_2016-12-31-16-16-05-280

c360_2016-12-31-16-21-22-281

And then we began to wonder why the little witch house was so angry-looking.  We found out in about half an hour, the time it took this one to fall down and get eaten.

 

3 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized