More Pussy Galore

   To take care of business, specifically my car -- it's up and running again and I didn't need to kick it. It was just a bad battery, but the new battery (from United Battery, Inc.) was also defective and that fault didn't show up except by a load test. (the details aren't important or interesting) In the event, I got my money back from United Battery and only had to tolerate for a few minutes the a-hole clerk who treated me like a senile idiot. It's good to know some businesses are doing so well that they can casually alienate customers

   Back to cats. The item has been around for a couple of years, but if anyone hasn't read "Missing Missy" by David Thorne it's really funny -- good for a re-read if you've already seen it. (www.27bslash6.com) click on Missing Missy. Thorne has a bunch of other items and most of them are worth a look, but Missing Missy is the best (in my opinion).

   And I reliably heard that a pet, which, to save it from embarrassment, I won't identify by name or species or sex -- enjoys it's visits to the vet. So much so that when her (oops) temperature is taken she (oops) lies on the table purring (oops). Again we can each draw our own private conclusions.  DA
  

The Cat's Meow

   dw spent most of last week enjoying some R and R visiting friends in Mountain View CA. (MV is a town south of San Francisco, north of San Jose). Kate and John G. have a house here in Portland and a condo in MV, where they spend half the year and where John is an anatomy professor of some distinction. (Here in Portland, among friends, he's just another old git)
    Before she left, dw called the G's and asked if there was anything they'd like her to bring down. Nothing was really needed, but dw did say she would stop at Zupan's (an upscale grocery store) and buy some particular French ham which isn't available in MV, and which Beaner sorely missed. (dw likes Beaner, and the French ham is the only ham Beaner will eat) "Beaner" (aka Victoria) isn't John's nickname as one might think -- given the special need for French ham -- Beaner is their cat. At this point you might think Beaner has a gold lined silver food bowl with matching charger, a bed lined with de-allergized dog fur (Take THAT Fifi -- I snooze on your grave!!) and a crystal water bowl filled with Evian water. But not so. In all other respects Beaner is a pleasant ordinary cat and treated as such. I don't know how Victoria came to merit such a special snack food, but there you are. I also don't know how Victoria came to be called Beaner, especially since it's Beaner and not Biner -- short for carabiner -- as John is a mountain/rock climber of 60 years standing. Another of life's mysteries. 

   The name "Beaner" reminds me of a cat my Uncle Percy owned some 60 years ago. Another seemingly ordinary cat (certainly amouldering in it's grave at this point) but in that case named "Stringbean". Stringbean got it's name for the cat's inordinate fondness for canned string beans -- fond to the point that string beans were about all Stringbean would eat -- the world's first and only vegan house cat. I was a child and didn't know Stringbean very well but I imagine, like all other cats, Stringbean loved hunting and pouncing -- so one can picture Stringbean catching a mouse, crunching it's tiny mouse skull, and then spending the next five minutes thinking: "Ooo, nasty -- mouse brains all over my mouth -- (spit, spit, spit) -- ooo, nasty -- (spit, spit)" -- sigh -- "Now I suppose I need to carry the nasty thing into the house and put it in the giant's shoe" -- sigh --

  If there's a moral to be drawn from this, I haven't thought of it, so if you want one you'll have to make it up yourself. 

Books:  "The Curse of the Labrador Duck" (Glen Chilton). Chilton is an ornithologist who developed an obsession with the Labrador duck -- extinct for 150 years -- and spent 10 years or so traveling around looking at and measuring all of the extant stuffed Labrador ducks. Another amusing science lite book, only in this case it's really lite since (according to Chilton) almost nothing is known about the Labrador duck. While I haven't traveled to see any of the stuffed ducks, having read this book I fancy I'm something of a world authority on the Labrador duck. Almost nothing is known, and I know almost nothing: Q.E.D. In a notable passage the author writes that one of the last of the ducks was shot by a Simon F. Cheney. I don't know if Simon is an ancestor of Dick, but people named Cheney seem to have a predilection for indiscriminate blasting away with a shotgun.  DA

April Fools (Or Not)

I picked up a copy of Willamette Week Wednesday, and in the "news" section: What to do this week in arts and culture -- Came across this blurb. "Willy Week" presented this as a regular featured article under "what to do". It's amazing. Two reasons: WW presents this as a regular news and this guy actually convinces people to pay him for looking at them.
   It's not April 1, but I thought this was a joke.  If it's not 4-1, then WW must be channeling  The Onion. Alas, it isn't so. The page is WW being "non-critical".
   (In full disclosure -- WW seems to feel that's important -- I stared at his picture for awhile.  -- According to Braco's web site this should work -- And my knee is still crap.  And my stents didn't spring from my chest like a lot of useless junk -- I've got doubts about how good at healing he is) 
  But look at him. At his sad brown eyes and soft gentle (smirking) smile that seems to say: "I got you to pay me $100 to look at you, and I bet I can do it again."
   WW pretends to be a legitimate newspaper  but it publishes crap like this as real news.
   But I thought: This is a GREAT scam. This guy doesn't actually talk to the public or press. (He probably sounds like a chipmunk on helium) while I have a fine mellifluous bass-baritone so I can actually talk. -- But all I would really need to do is sit and stare at my suckers clients.   I can do this. 

      Are you healed? (That's only $75 -- My special first time rate) Braco is a bit more gentle than I am.  He looks like "Lets all get together, sing Kum-By-Ah, and get well and feel good."  I seem to have a look of: "HEAL, DAMN YOU!" But I think that should work. 
   I've been looking for work that I'm willing to do, (A VERY limited range) and I think this fits the bill. I will definitely pay taxes and social security and everything else on every penny I earn.  DA
      

Cravings

   Cravings often cause us to do unfortunate things. A week ago Sunday I was saved only because I commonly don't carry money when I ride my bike to the gym. I was riding back (it's a 15 mile round trip) and got caught in a riot of aromas from restaurant row on Williams Avenue. A touch of chocolate from Pix, (a patisserie to die for), and from the other restaurants, maple syrup, bacon, butter, hash browns and eggs. If I had been carrying any cash, I would have stopped and inhaled a couple of thousand calories.
   (I prefer to exercise on an empty stomach, so typically I'll only have a slice of bread or a banana before I leave for the gym)
   But this last Sunday it was my loathing for lines saved me. I had a few dollars and decided I'd buy a few Voodoo doughnuts to eat when I got home.  (for those who don't know, Voodoo Doughnuts is noted for it's unusual toppings, including such things as Pepto Bismol icing -- A portmanteau treat: catch and cure stomach upset -- all in one bite) I intended to get a few doughnuts topped with maple icing and bacon bits.  There was a vast line, so once again I was saved from my cravings. 

  (Unless it's something I really want or need, I won't stand in line for anything. McDonald's for example. -- to my mind the worst of the big burger chains -- So I'll go hungry rather than stand in line for one of their burgers. It isn't that I consider myself -- in this regard anyway -- better than other people, it's just that I can't see the point in waiting to get something that's both bad for you and tasteless.)

 Other people's cravings are often just funny, particularly when it's attention that's being sought: The fashion of many years for young men to wear their pants below their butt. An amazing style that often requires the guys to walk with a wide stance, waddling along legs apart, so their pants don't fall down.  It's been a style for so long that unless they trip on their own pants they don't even get the attention they crave.
   And what caused this blog: two new (to me -- for all I know they've been around for years) words -- vajazzling and pejazzling. Referring to women and men.  In both cases the benighted wretches crave more sexual attention so they shave their private parts and then glue on sequins in assorted designs. It seems to me that all of that shaving and gluing would defeat the purpose of having the equipment (especially the men) but as Hamlet said:  "There are more things in heaven and earth / than are dreamt of in (my) philosophy.  -- If you're interested in photos, Google either word under images, or try www.mybodydecor.com ---

   Today was gym day but after a brief discussion we found, Bob D. and I, that neither of us had much interest. Instead I took a 15 or 20 mile bike ride.  Of interest along the way: a painted intersection at 8th and Holman and an event: The brakes on my bike need to be cleaned so they give a loud squeal when I use them. A woman with two leashed northern dogs was standing at the bottom of one hill I descended.  When I put on my brakes to slow down, the dogs started to howl. It was great. I'd release the brakes, they'd stop -- I'd apply the brakes they'd howl. I thought of trying for "Shave and a haircut, six bits" but considered that too ambitious.  The dogs' timing wasn't quite good enough. 
   Midway through the ride I stopped at Bob and Roberta (two D's) -- (aka "The Bobs") house for coffee and a short visit.  All in all a pleasant ride.  DA