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?