Blog #277                                         June 30, 2022

 

Do you like dogs?  I like dogs.  On my last trip to North Carolina, I took one of my daughter’s dogs to my granddaughter’s soccer game.  There were lots of dog-people there and the routine is always the same.  My dog sniffs your dog; your dog sniffs my dog and then we exchange breeds.  Mine is an Australian Shepherd kind of mutt, I volunteered.  She’s a rescue dog.  “Oh, mine is a Gerberian Shepsky,” the haughty, short-haired woman replied.  A Gerberian WHATSKY?  Is that the name of a dog or a hockey goalie?  “A dog,” she replied without the slightest display of a sense of humor, “It’s a mix of a German Shepherd and a Siberian Husky.”

 

Well, excuuuuuse moi!  You know, it used to be we’d show off our wealth with an expensive purchase, a Porsche 911 or a cute little Judith Leiber clutch.  Now the glitterati among us show their hifalutin bona fides by mixing up a batch of doggie genes in a blender, and when they blend the dogs, they blend the names.  No longer do they have collies or poodles or cocker spaniels.  Now they have Yoranians, Chiweenies and Double Doodles.  They have Cockapoos, Corgipoos and Labradoodles.  They have Bassadors, Cavapoochons and Pitt Plotts.  These are real.  How could I make these up?  Now, instead of hearing “Hi, what a cute dog”, I hear “Would your Double Doodle like to sniff my Chiweenie?”  I just want to go up to these people and scream, “Kiss my Bassador!  Save the three thousand bucks you paid for that high-priced hound and adopt a rescue dog.”  And Cockapoos?  I haven’t heard that since I was toilet-training my first grandchild.  A chiweenie, by the by, is a cross between a Chihuahua and a dachshund.  You should have known that.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  My hounds are bred of the Spartan kind (A Midsummer Night’s Dream).  I’m a cross between a lion and a female dog.  I guess that makes me a lion son of a bitch.  But I would never lie to you.  Purr. 

 

It's strange that I used the name Judith Leiber before, because I remember somehow that she passed away a few years ago at the age of 97.  I wonder if they buried her in a tiny, little heart-shaped coffin covered in rhinestones.  I bet they did.

 

Do you feel smart today?  Do you feel like Sherlock?  If you said “Sherlock who”, skip this section.  That’s right. It’s time for more questions from my Address Quiz.

This will be our third week, and the questions are getting harder.  These addresses are from song lyrics.  Are you ready?

 

1.     What is down at the end of lonely street?

2.     What did Madame Ruth sell at the corner of 34^th & Vine?

3.     Where are there a barber showing photographs and a fireman with an hourglass?

 

Hi there and welcome back.  Did you realize that 2022 is half over?  Most of us probably wish it had never started.  War, inflation, gasoline, guns, abortions!  I feel like I’m being pushed around by all these forces I can’t control.  As Robert Brault said, what you discover about life’s shell game is that it’s hardest to follow the pea when you’re the pea.

 

I hope you’re feeling well, at least, and learning how to deal with this inflation we’re experiencing.  It’s becoming very expensive to fill up nowadays, and I don’t mean gasoline.  My McDonald’s has just raised the price of a Diet Coke from $1.00 to $1.18.  (For those of you who think a polynomial is a kind of parrot, that’s an increase of 18%.)  Inflation has made everything go up, including my golf score.  I played nine holes of golf this week, one hole like Tiger Woods and eight holes like Stevie Wonder.  And the Dollar Tree is depressing, watching the containers getting smaller and smaller.  Today I bought a bottle of laundry detergent the size of a ChapStick. 

 

Answers:

 

1.     At the end of Lonely Street was Heartbreak Hotel.

2.     Madame Ruth was selling Love Potion #9

3.     The barber and the fireman were on Penny Lane.

 

Saturday is Carol’s birthday.  I gave her my present early.  It was a framed picture of me.  She examined the frame, took out the picture and replaced it with a mirror.  Who can blame her?  Who would you rather look at?  So I took the picture, folded it up and safety-pinned it to the inside of that cute little dress I’m pretty sure she’ll wear to her second wedding once I’m gone.  When that time comes, she’ll take the dress off the hangar, find the photo and unfold it.  “I remember him,” she’ll say.  “He used to write limericks.” Yes, I did.  And I shall continue, until they put me in that little heart-shaped coffin with the rhinestones.  I made that all up, of course. Carol would never replace a picture of me with a mirror.  Would she?  Would you, Honey?  Maybe I should have saved the effort and just buy her a mirror.  Happy Birthday, Sweetheart.  I love you.

 

Alert the media, notify the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund – my wife has learned to Venmo and can now instantaneously scatter money anywhere across the occupied Universe.  So be alert; you may soon become a happy recipient of her electronic largesse.   That should be our Weekly Word, largesse, which means gratitude shown by giving lavish gifts.  But you won’t get any from me! 

 

You go to Venmo and unlock it

Then send out your funds like a rocket

But do I Venmo?

The answer is no

I’m keeping my cash in my pocket.

 

I eschew the digital world whenever I can and refuse to disseminate anything electronically other than to send you my blog every week.  That’s because I’m a confirmed stick-in-the mud who clings to the old ways.  There’s an old maxim that says “willingness to change is a sign of maturity and excellent mental health.”.  Well, I have the maturity of day-old bread and the mental health of a Crab Rangoon, so I guess I’ll just stick to my old habits.  Like saying stay well, count your blessings and stop playing with your Chiweenie!  See you next week.  Enjoy the Fourth of July, buy a sectional.

 

Michael                                    Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com