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These four days are the best of the year. After hours spent slaving over a hot stove, I produced a meal that lasts for 4 freakin’ days. And I relish every day, lounging, and napping, and just hangin’ out around the TV, with a book in hand should I desire it. Sigh. . . .life should always be so good.
Speaking of life.
I hate people who use partial words, or make up new words, combining others. It is not cute. It is not accurate. It is silly.
I would ban the use of “delish” and “terrif” and vics and perps (NO self-respecting police office I have ever known–and the number runs into the hundreds–ever used those words. It’s victims and suspects or defendants, period). I hate the “word” fantastical, and stupendulous, and spectaculicious.
So stop it.
Do you have stupid homemade words that you hate?
Before we get on with funny things: a couple of links you should follow.
David Frum, who is a legitimate Republican wrote a long piece for the NYMag. I subscribe to a site called “longreads” which sends me their picks every week of five really good articles that are longer than the usual Internet fare.
Frum writes about what has gone so terribly wrong with the GOP. You probably should read it.
On a completely different note. Did you know that bulldogs are getting close to being America’s favorite dog? Not quite, but close. Did you know that they have a lifespan of about 7 years? Did you know it’s almost exclusively due to the manner in which we have bred them for their famous traits? Do you know that they have more health issues than any other dog, and have a fairly lousy quality of life?
Well you should know. And if you go here, you will find out all about bulldogs and their plight. If you think this is an isolated case, you would also be wrong. Collies were bred for a long time for very long and flat noses. Race horses are bred for very long slender legs that make it much more likely that they suffer broken legs. We bred animals to suit our esthetics or our needs, with little or no thought as to how it will affect the animal.
Be aware, and buy accordingly.
Okay, back to some fun.
I love Calvin and Hobbes.
So much so that we named two of our cats after them. Not that they resemble either in character and personality.
This is one of my favorite frames.
Like Star Trek, much of life can be explained through their relationship and adventures.
I miss reading the funnies every day in the paper.
Speaking of which, is your local paper this weird-looking thing now? They chopped off about 1/4 of its width. It looks silly. I don’t read it any more. It doesn’t look serious.
Michele Bachmann is going to be at Barnes and Nobles in Cedar Rapids today. The Contrarian wondered if I wanted to go. As far as I know, you can’t speak to the silly woman unless you buy her book. Who would want to do that? And you couldn’t say much anyway, before her “handlers” shuffled you aside and away.
But I could do this.
And it would be even more satisfying.
I’d like to do this a lot.
To a lot of politicians.
To a lawyer or two.
To a TV “personality” or two.
To a host of so-called celebrities.
To God on occasion, but not often.
To our pets every night at 3: a.m. when somebody has just “GOT” to go out.
And then one of them crawls into my lap, and rolls his head and peers at me with such sappy sweetness that I want to do this:
You know what I mean.
And that’s the way I like to stay most of the time.
Soft and sweet, and loving and sappy happy.
And mostly I do.
Until I get on this infernal machine.
And start to read things, and ponder.
And then I see this:
And my blood begins to boil.
And I pound the table.
And I question the existence of intelligent life on this planet.
And I want to go to my bunker.
Except that I don’t have one.
And I’m too old to make it in the outback of Alaska with nothing but a hatchet and a shotgun. (I was always too old for that).
And besides, Alaskans, by and large are too strange for me.
So, I’m going back to contemplating my navel.
Existential Ennui 