Oughta Be Illegal

Hey.

America is REALLY FAT now.

It's killin' people.

So.


If they went and made TV cigarette ads illegal.....


.....why is B*b Evans still allowed to advertise those ob-SCENE pancakes?

and they're ONLY $4.95!





jeezus, people.

LOOK OUT!!!! DOGMEAT HAS A WEB SITE!!!!

Go there.
absolutely.

The Following link gets you to the Blog.


squarespace BLOG link!


this one gets you to the Front Page.

roaring hill front page,(yeah, I know. artsyfartsy)

warning:

this is an ART site, so it's not a fierce as this here CORE blog-ness of The DogMeat's inner demons.

but, it's cool, and I just KNOW that you 2 followers want some art to be sold so that you don't have to struggle along as my only followers, maybe, if some money changes hands you can even break free and go follow somebody else.

Here is a quote from what I posted over there today;


"okay, so, now I have a website. roaring hill art on squarespace.com

And this blog is on there too. 

my 2 followers could, *LINK or *LIKE it, if they wanted to.  

sell some art. 

keep the DogMeat alive and fed for a few months. ​

​

If I sell ONE photo...the site has been paid for FOR A YEAR. 

and we patronize the arts, (okay, well, THAT'S in the eye of the beholder, but, ya know, I have always insisted that this is performance art...), when the Fed won't help us out any more.

Pick One; 

a) killing children in some other country  

or

b)  getting a chance to see photos of things we'll never get to see in person, or of places/spaces that won't exist after climate change has had it's way 20 years from now.

Yeah. 

Right. 

That's what I mean. 

The Fed chose "a".  

with your money. 

​

Link* or Like*, folks!"

So, that pretty much says it all.

Now I just have to clean up all the crap cluttering my desktops, both computer AND physical.

Had no idea that "under construction" meant just that.

still figuring schtuff out.

like, POST BLOG ENTRIES HERE, then they get pulled to that over there, sort of schtuff.
and why this typing on this blog over here is ending up inside the quotation box from over there.
eesh.

please.

LIKE me, the internet sell-out whore.

CHANGES

.....it's the beginning of Autumn, the season of DRASTIC change.

In spite of what the human-designated date for "the first day of Autumn", or "Fall Starts Here", the Earth, the birds, the animals, the plants....they all know, and are showing us that truth. The leaves have started their earthward drifting colour change, the grasses have slowed their growing, teenager deer no longer want to be seen hovering behind their mothers, chipmunks, marmots, field mice, foxes, coyotes, even the couple pairs of wolves that live around here....are all preparing their winter nests and dens, the season's offspring well and truly on their own now; either kicked out to make nests of their own, or cooperate in the pack activities of preparation for the cold time ahead.

      For me, the first sign of Autumn is usually the Starling Thing.The Great Flocks are beginning to collect. The many icterids,(starlings, blackbirds,grackles), that gather into these VASTLY numerous flocks of mixed species are stopping their isolated pair-bonded life style and returning to the cacophonous, clatterychattery, wind-blown, almost-like-a-school-of-fish society behaviour.
   
 It's glorious to sit out near the very tall trees where they gather, watch them coming in by ones and twos and threes, at first loosely perched about these trees, as more arrive becoming a tightly clustered black mass of  noise; whistling, screeing, chattering and clicking, sometimes a bit of a tune they've picked up from some human habit.....suddenly, AS ONE, they go dead silent...there's a pause....and then, AS ONE, they LAUNCH themselves into the air with an audible roaring of the hundreds, even thousands of wings carrying this mass into the sky.  There's an excitement to being present for that launch....it's beautiful to listen to the chatter leading up to that moment of perfect stillness, it's hopeful to stay seated, waiting to see whether that swirl of black bird bodies will merely circle, to return to the tree and attain a better seating arrangement, or stream off across the sky and fields in search of some other activity on which they've apparently voted to pursue next in their day.

I'm sure you've seen them,(or perhaps you haven't because you don't look up for this sort of thing), the thousands-bird RIVERS  stretching out for a mile or more overhead, swirling, diving, swooping.... when I see one of these bird-rivers approaching overhead, I stop, wait, count the minutes.... it's sort of like the tangible proof of the river of time pouring toward me, bringing on the Autumn, the Fall...that has no concern for the dates on our calendars, nor steps aside it's flow for the sake of some small generosity toward this puny being called "Me".

WORD FOR THE DAY: INELUCTABLE

what?
did you think I was going to put the definition on here?

no, no, no!
you are supposed to look it up.

if you already know what it means, YAY FOR YOU.


either way, the only ones I want to talk to are the persons who either already know what it means,
or are willing to make the effort to learn something new so they will look it up.

none of you people who just sit there, nod sagely, pretend that you understand, (but your inferior parietal lobule/ Wernicke's area hasn't got a frucking clue), well....NONE of you need apply.




that's just my attitude on it, coming ineluctably to an interaction near you.


.

DUDE! IF YOU ARE A MALE FLUTIST,(floutist, flautist, flutista, whatever).......

.........DON'T pose like THIS on the cover of your Flute Music Album:

People may TOTALLY get the wrong idea about you.
And just what it is, exactly, that you are selling.


You hussy provocateur, you!

NEW POLICY

- I will find a way to use the word "lugubriously" in a blog posting, appropriately, sometime before the end of the calendar year 2014.

- At least one blog entry will involve a rant about why ALL pull-start machinery, (lawn mowers, chain saws, weed whackers, etc.), were invented by, and for the sole operation by, persons over 6'8" with arm-spans greater than 12 feet? And, quite probably, weighing more than 265 lbs...named "CHUCK".

- I will make blog entries on MONDAYS, when I am hideously sleep deprived, having gotten by on 7 hours and 45 minutes sleep for the preceding 3 days. Not only will it seem more reasonable for me to actually be blathering away on some amazingly un-read "dear diary" internet bludgeon-fodder, but the content is far less likely to be intellectually filtered in any way.
Liberating for me.... and also more likely to wrangle my Follower numbers down to a respectable TWO.


There's some energy conservation for you.
very green.

LOOK OUT!!!!! (yes, again.)

...I may just start wearing flannel pajama pants in public.
WITH PINK FUZZY BUNNY SLIPPERS!





that got your attention, didn't it?
I think welding goggles would round off the ensemble quite nicely, yup yup.

But REALLY.

I see these people, MOSTLY, between the ages of 15 and 22, OUT IN PUBLIC, wearing their pajamas.
At the Walmart store. On campus. Just last week; the butcher shop.
Generally, an iPod or a Sams*ng Galaxy is involved.

Did we just NOT BOTHER, when we got up?
Or did we have to change into that attire from something we slept in?
Do we mow the grass wearing this attire?


Do we mow the grass at ALL?

Probly not....or those bunny slippers would, quite likely, be missing their ears.


yeah........ I think I will grow a big ol' belly, so that my 6x sized children's t-shirt leaves my midsection lamentably exposed, put on my flannel pajama-bottoms and earless bunny shoes, fire up some leftover cigarette butt, and go out back to chain-saw me some firewood. Then, after a round of push-mowing, while tanked out of my gourd on ROCKST*R energy drink, shove some AC/DC into my head via those little white iPod 'buds, head on off to a nearby college campus to shuffle** vacuously into traffic while staring into an iPhone, trying to see if that reply from #caligrrl ever came across... but I can't see it because my welder goggles and the sun glare cancelled out any chance that I can possibly read it before being hit by an oncoming motorist/skateboarder,(also wearing pajama pants)/bicyclist,(earbuds and a bicycle bell), /othershufflingpedestrian.....



it's okay.
I won't know what hit me.















*c'mon, you know the drill. protecting me from lawsuits and all that.

** it was the bunny slippers,(and the sleep deprivation), that made me do it.
  

p.s.

Why in the blazes can't I get this damned blog style to have, at least a LITTLE bit, a wider text format?
It's just this LONG SKINNY column of drivel, not an anywhere near NORMAL width column of drivel.


I know, I know.
But this was the page style template that looks way more cooler with pictures somewhere on it AND let's me have a BLACK background.

Which is just bitchin' awesome and certainly suits my personality down to the ground.


....especially on suicidal rampage sorts of days.

Look Out Gentle Followers,(all 2 of you), I am, Apparently, Back.

Yes.
OVER A YEAR.

What can I say, I've been depressed.
Bad Things Happened.
And, I DID WARN YOU.

But.
It's early August, and THE OHIO STATE FAIR IS UNDERWAY.
Which means...there MUST be a new blog entry.

If only because, once again, I've had entirely TOO MANY opportunities to witness glistening piles of rancid obesity staggering across the heat-shimmering asphalt of 12th Avenue in front of my, (sadly), stationary pick-up truck, a funnel cake in one hand, hitching up an overly stressed-to-the-point-of-exploding tube top and/or an over-extended and butt-exposing pair of Skinny Girl sweat-pants with the other, a glazed look of imminent grease impaction smeared across their "I not only SAW the Butter Cow, I ate her!" fat-wattled* faces.
And, (REALLY, this is THE TRUTH), they generally have at least one whining child in tow who weighs as much as a Volkswagon beetle.
An endless stream of this human miasma that can go on for, (apparently), DAYS.

Ah yes, Ohio, the land of the Walking Suet Cake.
Where we have a State Fair that seems created specifically to celebrate that fact.

And then, there is the young couple who seem entirely oblivious to the concept that, if you place chubby toddler Tiffany-Anne in your Bugaboo Bee stroller without either the sun-shade engaged, or a tub of SPF 35,000 lotion slathered over her entire body, you will be taking home a wretched, screaming, sticky, 32-pound tomatoe, instead of the cute little, not-blistered daughter that you came in with.
And really.
She'd not end up puking all over the backseat of your Subaru, if you hadn't felt compelled to help her shovel a sausage sandwich, a Cup-o-fries, a cotton-candy,(the whole thing, sugar!YUM!), 2 deep-fried Twinkies, a butter-infested roasted corn ear, and 3 chocolate ice-creme cones, (which can be purchased in the Dairy Building, the very same building where The Exploding Fat Lady was seen having a go at the Butter cow earlier in the day), and an "ICE COLD COKE! GET IT HERE!" that was tepid at best, followed by Daddy's insistence that "Tiffy-poo can handle another go on the Tilta-whirl, she's a BIG girl now!" .....

WHY, oh WHY, (insert sounds of wailing, garment rending, and teeth gnashing here), must it always be MY pick-up truck that the least well paid members of the Columbus Police department see fit to stop, so that these sun-burnt and sweatily jiggling pedestrians can make their ways across the street to their cars that, for the low low rip-off price of TEN DOLLARS, are parked on the front lawns of home owners immediately adjacent to the Fair Grounds?

My sensibilities are FAR too delicate for this sort of exposure.

And I cannot look away.

Aside from the fact that it's illegal to drive with one's eyes closed,(not to mention the mortal consequences to said jiggling and burning pedestrians), there's an obscenely hypnotic effect that this Bratwurst slathered,  Giant Corn-dog encrusted, wave of human misery can have upon the frontal cortex.
The almost amoeba-like wobbling progression of the morbese, just one "Get it on a stick" away from a a fatal coronary, just one degree and 12 plodding steps away from a monumental heat stroke....draws the eye, mesmerizes, and changes one's very grip on reality in some indescribable and hellish sort of way......

I am jolted from my reverie by the blast of a police whistle and an orange-capped flashlight waving circles beyond my windshield.
I accelerate...can't get out of there fast enough.....I gain 20 feet...

...only to have step out in front of me, palm extended, whistle shrieking, flashlight flailing, yet another underpaid cop followed by his attendant horde of steaming, waddling Deep Fried Pork Rind aficionados.

My eyes glaze.
I consider suicide by power-window**.
It may be my only way out.












*If you don't know what the term "wattle" is, frickin' Google it, arready. Jeesh!
**Not to be confused with Running Oneself Over With One's Pick-up truck.






yes, I DID notice the missing 'h' in "where". Did you?

The Dogmeat Owns It's Mistakes!

okay. I'm owning it. There are TWO typos in the previous post.

and,yes, I HAD been fussing about authours who go out in public with their literary panties exposed.
sue me.

NOBODY has changed what THEY are doing. and I was having seasonal affective disorder at the time, being as how my last post was in January.

YES.
JANUARY. 
SUCK IT UP.

I DID make a disclaimer about frequency of posting at the beginning.....
YOU WERE WARNED.


so anyhoo.
I promise to TRY to never ever ever ever ever EVER make any uncorrected typos,(not including Canadian spellings, as they are the CORRECT ONE anyway),and if I do, I will either give you a warning that one is coming, or I will just sneer and tell you to just suck it up. You win either way. All good, all the time.

At least you have another blogness from the Dogmeat to entertain and enlighten. until......oh,......... ..............................June?




 btw. lack of caps, where most people tend to put them, are NOT typos, they are art.
 deal with it, beetches.

Vacuum Cleaners are CRAP!!!

C'mon.

Be HONEST.

Every single one of you has, at least, one HOSTILE thing to say about your vacuum cleaner.

Every single one of you has, at least once during each cleaning session, something PROFANE gushing loudly forth from your lips,sending any dogs in the vicinity scurrying under the bed. If they weren't under there already.

WHY DO ALL* VACUUM CLEANERS HAVE TO BE CRAP?!??

WHY is it, that the very same vacuum that can suck a chunk of flesh 3 inches in diameter and 1/2 inch deep off of your forehead, will EAT any shoe laces within 5 feet of the rotor brushes, and can lift a 17-pound terrier dog off it's feet by the skin at the nape of it's neck, be COMPLETELY UNABLE TO SUCK UP A FEW SUNFLOWER SEEDS THAT ESCAPED THE BIRD-FEED BIN THIS MORNING??? So that you have to scoop them up with your fingers and feed them to the nozzle yourself....

WHY couldn't the designer have put a handle on there ANYWHERE that might make it easy to heft the damned thing over that throw-rug, so that the mighty rotor brushes,(the same ones that CAN'T suck up 3 sunflower seeds, or, if they do, spit them out the back side of the rotor so that they never make it to the canister and are still scooting about on the kitchen floor, only now in about 2000 smithereens since the rotors shredded them up in passage), don't gobble up that throw rug, resulting in a shrieking mangle that spews the stench of burnt rubber, scares the beJEEBERS out of the dogs,("See? I TOLD you it eats things alive and breathes fire!"), takes you 2 hours and a new rotor belt to fix, and makes you wish you'd never started trying to clean up the birdseed spill in the first place.... WHY no conveniently placed handle, HUH???

That very same designer is clearly an EVIL HELL-SPAWN SWINEWHORE BASTARD.

Have you ever wondered why all vacuums have the power cord right there, where it always is, so that just trying to avoid running over the power cord is a bigger chore than picking up the birdseeds with a tweezer and a straw would have been? And, without that handle, trying to heft the stankass thing over the stankass power cord is a guaranteed hernia someday, absolutely.

We all have these ludicrous, almost ritualized, strategies for managing the power cord;

-Over the shoulder,(risky, it gives that vacuum way too much latitude for taking matters into it's own hands and choking the life out of you...)

-Keeping it wound around the cord brackets with just enough loose to reach things,(never works, it's never enough, just when you've got a good head of vacuum-y momentum going you hit the end of the allowed cord and you get jerked off your feet, only to do a full-body back-slam onto the floor, rupturing every thoracic vertebral disc and dislocating your left shoulder where you had the cord draped....)

-Kicking the cord to the side as you go,(impossibly tricky, as NO ONE has that degree of coordination coupled with the speed required to beat those heinous rotor brushes just racing to make rubberized vermicelli out of the power cord.... you can only manage this cord management strategy for SO LONG before you are destined to trip and end up doing a face-plant onto the vacuum canister itself, leaving you with another nasal fracture and a permanent scar in the shape of "Hoov" backwards on your right cheekbone....)

-Nonchalantly letting things go as they will, allowing gravity and chaos have their way with the cord,(and your emotional stability, your wallet, your very life. The cord WILL be eaten by the rotor brushes, you WILL be electrocuted, and, if you weren't electrocuted, you will be left with a permanently debilitating psychotic disorder and a facial twitch, brought on by the full awareness that your vacuum cleaner is, indeed, OUT TO GET YOU....)

WHY can't the canister,(on a bagless vacuum), be LARGE ENOUGH FOR ME TO CLEAN A 12-FOOT SQUARE CARPET WITHOUT ME HAVING TO EMPTY THE CANISTER AT LEAST 7 TIMES??!!???

I mean.

What's up with THAT?

Yes.

I have 3 dogs.

I'm willing to accept, oh, maybe TWO trips to the bin for canister emptying.

But not SEVEN.

NOT for a 12-foot carpet remnant.

And then, there's the whole,'if there's a carpet thread that sticks out even 4 mm longer than the surrounding carpet, you can kiss the carpet goodbye, as the rotor-dealie will snag on it and proceed to unravel the entire carpet,(winding it, in it's entirety, around the rotor-dealie bar spool thingie),and then catch fire' scenario.

How about that, "I have 15 attachments here, and NONE OF THEM fit this fracking accessory hose!" melt-down you had last week?

Or the bit where, after you emptied the canister for the 6th time, when you switched back on, what you were sucking up was spewing RIGHT BACK OUT through the .01 micron gap that you left when clamping the canister lock back down?

Should I have to wear goggles and a chemical-grade respirator mask to remove the canister from the unit in order to avoid beezors and black-lung disease?

And why are there crannies around and above the "VorNAdo Supersuction" engine that accumulate wads of dog fuzz so that I gave to stick my hands and/or a coat-hanger wire up in there to adequately clean the unit so that it doesn't set off my smoke detector?

I tell ya.

The broom and dust-pan are a satisfactory alternative....

......and I told my vacuum cleaner so.

tthhhpphtttt.

*and I mean ALL. Even the $2359.89 ones. ALL.

IRRITATING.

Here's the dealio;

I spend a fair amount of time READING on the internet.

News. Tech-related informational blogs. Reviews.

And I spend more and more of that reading time in irritation.

WHY?

None of these people frickin' SPELL things correctly, many of them use backwards, ignorant grammatical structure.

IF YOU ARE GOING TO PUBLISH YOUR SUPPOSEDLY KNOWLEDGABLE WRITINGS ON THE INTERNET, FACKING KNOW HOW TO SPELL, ALREADY!

Even Scientific American* is rife with spelling errors and interesting grammatical structures these days.

I have two words for everybody;

SPELL CHECK.

Turn it on.

It's not hard, it will put little red lines under the words you have misspelled, you can even have it correct the spelling for you.

And, if you are a professional publication, you should have proof-readers available to you, and doing their jobs correctly.

If' you've gone and fired them all....HIRE THEM BACK, DO IT NOW!!!!

When I am reading something, for the sake of the enlightening material presented therein, I do NOT want the progress of my mind hobbled by the irritation of junk spelling and crap grammar.

REALLY.

Oh. lest we forget.....

KINDLE**.

Kindle**, Nook**, EBooks**, iBooks***....whichever digital publisher you are; PROOF WHAT YOU ARE PUBLISHING, FERJEEZUSSAKE! When I am reading along in a novel by oh, let's say.... Bernard Cornwell,(excellent historical fiction, folks, I highly recommend it), I don't expect to have to hurdle spelling obstacles placed in my way. I would think that a digital publishing agent as high-profile as Kindle could do better. Some of the errors are just RIDICULOUS;

- "freind" as opposed to "friend"

- "there", when it should be "their"

- "wait", when it should be "weight"

And the list just goes on and on.

Its jest plane erksum, I telled ya!

snort.

* Did NOT change the name , not even a little bit, in the interest of propriety and risk of lawsuit because, if they are going to spell badly and then set themselves up as a publication for the intelligentsia, they just don't deserve it.

** DITTO.

*** REALLY, Apple! If you want to claim that you are ALL THAT, and try to compete with Kindle, you need to do WAY BETTER with your publications. Kindle's publication is still better than yours, and they don't cost as much. So there.****

**** I am an Apple user, not one piece of M#cr#s#ft anywhere in my house or back pocket, so I can fuss at Apple all I want. Humph, already.

p.s.

Can somebody tell me why the font size seems to have a life of it's own in here?

Like, sometimes it's really frackin' big, and sometimes it's really stinkin' small, and, apparently, has NOTHING TO DO WITH WHAT I WANT IT TO BE,WHATSOEVER.

So, can somebody tell me why?

just asking.......

Oh, Honeybunch, NO!!!!

Sweetie!!!

Please, oh PLEASE, if you are wearing Dupends*, WHATEVER you do, don't be wearing something that reveals them to the rest of us, while you are outside doing leaf duty on your sidewalk.

I know, I know, you are an elderly woman, doing your civic duty and all, but..... DAMN!

I probably shouldn't say anything.

But I am afraid that I must.

Cosmic Forces are conspiring and making me do it.

In a little less than 3 small-town blocks, yours is the second set of Dupends* I've laid eyes on this morning.

WHAT ARE THE ODDS** OF THAT?, I ASK YOU!

Either there's a Message from God there, or else it's "All the Old Ladies in Downtown Mt. V*rnon Ohio Strap on Your Crotch Fortifications and then Go Outside and Find a Way to Show Them to Innocent Drivers-By Day" downtown, and I've missed the other 2238 sets of padded undies on display today.

And what's with your style choice with that?!?

Large, mauve, snug-fitting velour sweats, with some sort of MESH at the crotch that ALLOWED ME TO SEE IT ALL when you bent over to bag away some of the downed autumn leaves.It was such a startler that I was slow to pass through the stop light,and elicited a polite,(and entirely appropriate), toot on the horn by the person following me.

MESH???

Is that some sort of Fresher Feeling Air-scoop dealie there?

The poor,misguided woman of 3 blocks earlier wasn't so vibrantly attired, she just managed to have tucked her shirt into the tops of her Dupends* and the diaper was, essentially, sticking out of the top of her pants, along the lines of the gym-class pipsqueak's Fruitie Looms when he's having a bad wedgie day at school.

Really.

What were you thinking?

Is this some sort of Senior Women's Circle "CRY FREEDOM!!!!" thingie?

I'm all for it.

But, perhaps, we should cordon off the area first.

*Personal Protection device name changed to protect me from being sued and to provide me with a chance to deny that I ever thought that the company in question sanctioned this sort of frisky behaviour on the part of Elderly Women, ever.

**In downtown Mt. V*rnon, there are approximately 4 persons over the age of 68 for every person under the age of 60.

Really.

I swear.

If You're a Presbyterian....

...STOP READING NOW.

It's a little raw in here, the language will definitely offend you, you'll likely consign me to your list of "People who will most certainly go to Hell".

Fine by me, probly a done deal anywayz, and, quite frankly, it's none of your frucking business.

All ya-all Catholics....

...come right on in.

You brought us the Borgia Popes and The Inquisition, so NOTHING should shock you in any buzz-kill kind of way.

If there's any specific group(s) of people who have a RIGHT to feel affronted by the material contained herein, it would be White Men who insist that "Guns Don't Kill People", Subservient Ta-Ta Baring 23-Year-Old "Twitter-Girls", ANYBODY who watches porn/tries to validate it by calling it "Art"/thinks it's alright for porn to even exist..., and ALL Overweight Women Who Still Wear Stirrup Pants.

And since that's generally my target group(s) for a little unbridled derisive sneering, well.... I'm just achieving my goal, so we ALL win!

And lest ye forget, my gentle readers;

I HATE EVERYBODY.

So, Be Prepared and FOREWARNED.

I've already offered that up, so, Deal.

okay.

Yes I'm Cranky.

I'll fill you in on that in a subsequent episode.

Just because I am Cranky doesn't make any of the above remarks less truth.

So have a nice day, bite me*, and continue reading.

or not.

*teeth marks are a sign of character and may be even a better chick-magnet than a classy tattoo or a black porsche. so GO FOR IT. Get some today!

The Tolerance Song

HIT IT!

"One of these THINGS is not like the others.

One of these THINGS is NO-OT the same.

One of these THINGS is not like the others.

But it's okay

to let IT/Him/Her/Them* join in The Game!

hum hum hum hum

de Humm hum hum hmmmmmmmmmm................"

Now THAT'S the way S*same Str*et should sing it.

Instead of teaching kids to search and destroy that which is diverse in some way.

"Find what's wrong with this picture kiddies!"

Yup.

Teaching the art of The Discriminating Eye to tender 2-year-olds.

Rock it, Big Bird.

*if you sing this little bit REALLY fast, you can make the rhythm come out almost alright. And really. Who frucking cares when you're trying to set fire to The Box, anywayz? I personally think it's just FINE to let your golf clubs mingle amongst the umbrellas in the front hallway coat-stand.

I'm Working Up To It.

I'll be back soon.

I've just been having a SHIT time of things... and rancor and openly hating God can only get ya so far in Blogland.

So I'll get back in here soon,

..............as soon as I've done yelling at Jehovah.

Room for One More?

.....because, ya know, there's STILL TIME FOR ANOTHER BEST of 2010.

I'm sorry, it just gets on my nerves.

All these "Ten Best of 2010" dealies.

You can't look at ANYTHING without there being some Retrospective Ten Best list, or "TheYear in Review", or The Best of 2010!" someplace on it.

Go look at T*me, Gizm*do,"Pe*ple,L*fe, ZDn*t, etc. etc. from this past week,(or, in many cases, MONTH), and you'll find at least one of these articles.

In at least one case, it was done twice....and you know what?

The 2 separate articles disagreed as to exactly WHICH events,(of 2010, don't forget that), were among the TEN BEST.

I, for one, find this whole thing intensely irritating.

First of all, Why is it always TEN?

I mean.

Why not Eleven?

What if there weren't Ten events that were really all that great,( and deserving of a special block on the front page), what if only Eight or Nine things were truly noteworthy during the year?

Then there's the part where it's all opinion-driven anyway.

Which explains why different periodicals have different lists....Rocket-Science, eh?

Or how about the part where people should really be able to figure this out for themselves?

I certainly know what I think the Top Events for 2010 were...and I am not entirely sure that there were exactly Ten of them, nor do I discount that yet another BEST Event could still happen inside the Year 2010.

There are still 14 hours and 22 minutes* remaining, people!

A Satanist Cult still has time to set fire to some cow in Nebraska!

So don't believe it, it's just HYPE, think for yourself.

*Which depends entirely upon which Time Zone you are in. For instance, it's a done deal in Japan....

Thirty Seconds......

....that's all it takes.

Suicide could be coming to a Lonely Person near you.

Call'em.*

"Hi, Happy Christmas, Hope your Day is a Good one, Thinking of you....."

Simple, really.

It's not much. But that may be all somebody really needed, from ANYBODY.

After they've offed it, it's too late to say,"Well, they always seemed to PREFER being alone." Or, "I was busy.", or "I just figured if Ted wanted to catch up, he'd call...."

Get real.

Maybe they just slipped your mind. It happens...people who seem important, while in view, just,somehow,cease to exist for us when we can't see them....

Maybe you decided they need to be the one to call YOU. Never mind that you have a family in your house and that person maybe figured you have Stuff Going On and they don't want to be intrusive.

Maybe they are just Proud.

.....Or maybe they wandered off into their own distance, forgot about what a Warmy Social Yuletide is all about, maybe they are just some weirdoh Anchorite Facing Into The Shrieking-Onslaught Winds of Personal Depression.

Whatever it is....there IS a reason, they still need you to call.... if they don't pick up, LEAVE A MESSAGE!.

The statistic is high for Holiday Season Suicide.

And, REALLY, it doesn't take much to change the statistic.

It just takes somebody who cares....

THIRTY SECONDS.

*If you don't have a phone number on them, EMAIL them, you doof! BUH!

p.s. I already made my call today, thankyouverymuch.

...so I was NICE....

...and took down the central image Horrible Hanging Dog picture.

It was the Flexer#l* that made me do it...... and some attempt at feeling pre-Holiday-ish, in a marginally generous sort of way.

My five,(maybe even SIX!), followers know what an effort generosity is for me.

Let's face it; I am mean and horrible and hostile.

Okay, not quite so much, but I certainly do like animals better than humans, holding a SPECIAL Hole of Hostility in my heart for those who abuse the animals.

I am The DogMeat, after all.

So "ho ho ho", Happy Holiday, I promise to not post any more HORRID images.... until AFTER Christmas, anywayz.

* Note and General Warning: DON'T be throwing around 120 lb. bales of hay when it's stankin' cold and you haven't warmed up your back sufficiently. It's killer. Thank God I have an iPad. Makes laying about in odd postures and posting blog items,(through a Flex#ryl haze), bearable.