Further bull from My Holiness: new religion

for Jason

I realize one of my previous posts may have seemed a bit anti-religion. Maybe it’s important to clarify: I’m not anti-religion. I’m anti-human-beings-as-interpreters-of-messages-no-one-else-can-hear-but-which-give-them-the-idea-that-what-they-think-is-right-should-be-what-everyone-does.

Hmm. No, there are still a couple of… well… okay.

I don’t like “con’s” without corollary “pro’s,” though. It’s far too easy to bitch and moan without suggesting a solution, an alternative or at least a palliative. So after years of research (and that part’s true), I’ve put together what I consider the most universally workable, humane, loving messages from every major religion and laboriously conflated them into a modest proposal for an entirely new creed:

The Church of Don’t Be an Asshole.

A lexicon of beaglery.

Today my Facebook friend Deanna posted a link to this article in the NYT: “Good Dog, Smart Dog,” a look at changing ideas about the cognitive abilities of the canine set, the point being that, hey, they might be smarter than those brainiac science-types thought.  My layperson reaction? “Finally, some scientists who actually live with dogs.”

A beagle I once knew and still love (not a breed that ever makes the “smartest” list, by the way) would purposely sit and stare intently at our French doors, squeak to go outside, let the younger male mutt assert his dominance by rushing out first as the door opened… and then drop to the ground to indicate that she wanted to stay in, thank you. As soon as the door closed, she would hop to her feet, head to the middle of the rug and do the rolling, squirming dance of beagle joy as the mutt stared bleakly inside through the glass, gaslighted yet again into losing possession of the indoor realm.

Do dogs think? Of course they do, about dog things and in dog ways. That beagle changed my ideas of the capabilities of canine manipulation and the effects of sheer doggie force of personality. We developed an entirely new vocabulary to describe the machinations of The Beagle Known as Alice.

Ague and goiters and boils, oh my.

One thing I knew about walking pneumonia:

• You can sing it to the tune of “Waltzing Mathilda.” Similarly, “diverticulitis” scans beautifully to “Gary, Indiana” from The Music Man.

Two things I didn’t know about walking pneumonia:

• It is not merely a vernacular reference to an undefined group of diseases; it is in fact a generally accepted name for a specific atypical pneumococcal virus.
• I have it.

Which gives me medically-sanctioned and spousally-enforced time to rest, recover and ponder other things, like: what about all those other folksy disease names? The ones from Chaucer through Shakespeare and well into Wodehouse, a vast array with which I am casually acquainted but not intimately familiar? “Chilblains,” said the husband, and I replied, “Frostbite… maybe? Hmmm.”

When you’re down and out, lift up your head and shout…

“This sucks.”

A little inspiration for the masses.

Video at last!

done

Thank you, thank you. I have no idea how the opening shot of the menagerie and the closing shot of random camera movement got in there… still figuring out the editing software. But the middle was on purpose!

Oh noes, I lol’d Nora

Thank you, Dean, for the caption.

Movie review: Baby Mama

Movie: not funny enough to be a comedy, not gooey enough (barely) to be a chick flick.

Verdict: meh.

Exception: Tina Fey is HOT.

Hey, this condo has WiFi

But I really am going to try to de-computerize for the weekend. Beachy beachy beachy.

Lack of posts, crazy busy, excuses, excuses… toddler update

Have I mentioned that Nora is two? Very, very two.

Notice the sweet potato on her chin. She knows it’s there. Her grandmother knows it’s there. She knows her grandmother knows it’s there. She is suspicious…

… and rightfully so. The wipe! The dreaded wipe!

The reaction:

If that’s not a two-year-old face, I don’t know what is.

Silly girly game! I love silly girly games!

From Lorelei:

Google “(Your name) likes to” and see what comes up. Make sure to use quotes so you get strings… here are my first ten or so.

1. Ann likes to play with herself. *ahem* (this came up about fifteen times; it’s in some song)
2. Ann likes red.
3. Ann likes to dance.
4. Ann likes to draw upon her own personal experiences.
5. Ann likes to party.
6. Ann likes to ride bikes and her hobby is sewing.
7. Ann likes to dream about Heaven on Earth.
8. Ann likes to spend time with her family and friends.
9. Ann likes to be needed, as well as to cherish and protect her loved ones, of whom she is somewhat possessive.
10. Ann likes to hunt for raccoons.
11. Ann likes to meet her subjects personally.

At least seven of these are right on the money, especially the raccoon hunting – mmmm, stewed raccoon.