Dumbidity

Obligatory Closing Post

On the auspicious fifth anniversary of our awakening to the War of Islamonazi Aggression, I'm posting the final entry in this online literary effort. I became web-aware to blogging as a by product of the 9/11 Attack and really enjoy it, but priorities and demands on my time are limiting my ability to play with it. It is very probable that I will pick it back up again, but as cheap and miserly as I am, I'm not payin' $9 a month any more. So either next week or next month the link won't work.

To the few who might really miss it, don't shed any tears for me - this isn't like when Larson ended The Far Side, nor when Waterson quit Calvin and Hobbes, or even the final episode of the Marty Feldman Comedy Machine. No, if you have any emotion at all, focus it on the very real threat that religious fanatics are working to institute a persecution that would make the Spanish Inquisition look like a tea party. And know that there are those that don't think they're serious.

I'll leave you (and Google) with a poem of sorts that I finished writing in early November of 2001. I haven't looked at it in about 3 years, and it's dated and a still a little cheesy. But it brought me back and reminded me how I felt nearly five years ago when this nation was united in purpose. Our enemy's most insidious tactic appears to be working, and Abraham Lincoln's warning should be ringing in our ears: "A house divided against itself cannot stand."

So if it's not out already, go get that Flag you stood in line to buy 5 years ago and put it up. And think about the shame you'd feel if some mullah forbade you to fly it.

A Ballad of the New American Spirit

(Works well to the tune and cadence of "The Ballad of the Uneasy Rider" by Charlie Daniels or "A Boy Named Sue" by Johnny Cash)

I was late for work on that fateful day
Couldn't find my keys, stuff got in my way
And I turned to see what the heads in the TV had on.
I couldn't believe what I saw on the screen
The most horrible things that I'd ever seen
In New York City, by Pittsburgh and at the Pentagon.

It was a couple days later that our President said
That we were gonna turn the world on its head
And deal with the evil whenever, wherever it's found.
He told the Taliban that their only chance
Was to cough up that scumball, maybe send him to France
But they didn't take it, just hid with him under the ground.

He said it plain, laid it out real straight
What we're doin' is right and we ain't gonna wait
For the diplomats to delay while they try to make nice.
"You'll be with us or with them" he said lookin' grim
I almost pity the fools that don't listen to him
We'll go with or without you; we ain't gonna ask twice.

Peter Jennings, Tom Brokaw, Wolfe Blitzer and Dan
Rather'd really like to get a look at the plan
That Rumsfeld and Bush are holdin' close to the vest.
They're pitchin' a fit, they wanna put on the air
What our side is gonna do over there
Get the scoop on the street and broadcast it ahead of the rest.

Those high-minded clowns better tighten their lips
Don't compromise missions or endanger our ships
Or uplink maps it might help the bad guys to see.
There's a lot of moms and dads who don't want 'em to show
The enemy troops which way not to go
Or give 'em a clue when and where the action will be.

Now and then Slick-Willie-Bill tries to get on the news
But even the press is tired of bein' used
He's in denial that the stories aren't all about him.
He wants to horn in on the whole ball of wax
Kinda misses the coverage of his Big Mac attacks
But we need to watch out so he doesn't get back in again.

Just a year ago we were all waitin' to see
Who our next President was goin' to be
And to think it almost came down to some hangin' chad.
We'd spent the last eight years in political limbo
When almost every night's news had to show the First Bimbo
And the questions we got from our kids made a bunch of us sad.

Now we got a leader that leads, doesn't wait for the polls
And lets us know his clear view of his goals
Doesn't lie or play with words like our brains were made'a mush.
He's gonna carry this burden he didn't request
But he ain't gonna shirk, he's gonna give it his best
God bless America, an' especially George W. Bush.

There's no doubt in his mind we're gonna get that guy
And his half-wit friend with the patch on his eye
When we're done over there we'll prob'ly have to move on to Iraq.
Saddam Hussein is another evil man
Plottin' bio-terror and worse for our land
So we might as well go on in and clean his clock.

After that there'll prob'ly be somebody else to chase
The lingering dregs of the fanatic nut-case
Who wants mankind to revert to savage ways.
We'll devote our people to rooting them out
If they won't give up, we've got the hammer and clout
To grab 'em and lock 'em up till the end of their days.

We're a people united and we're all gonna stand
Under the Flag that flies all over this land
Again like it did in the middle of World War Two.
We'll watch out for our neighbors, cover each others' backs
Right here in our country we'll be alert for attacks
By the evil ones who hate me and you.

It's a long term effort - it'll take some time
But it'll be worth it wipin' out that crime
Against our great land of liberty.
So don't get discouraged, never give up an' quit
If chicken-little acts hopeless or does the peacenik bit
We're right.
We know it.
We're gonna win and we're gonna stay FREE!

Dropping Like Flies

This morning, events are reported that give credence to the homespun axiom that things happen in threes:

Fear and Loathing in the Afterlife.

Did I hear right? Hunter S. Thompson overdosed on lead pellets?

I suppose he expected to write a book on it. Then again, perhaps he already has and we just haven't made the connexion yet.

Look at Me, I'm Sandra Dee, Dead at Sixty-Three.

Yeah, I know I'll have to do some additional BTUs in Purgatory for that one, but it was such low-hanging fruit that I couldn't resist. It's bizarre sometimes when you see how life turns out for some of the people who the little nobodies of the world wish they were.

The Late, Great, John Raitt - Lived to the Ripe old Age of Eighty-Eight.

The two principle elements of Raitt's obit were a) he's the father of blues guitarist/composer Bonnie; and b) he played Billy Bigelow in the stage production of Carousel.

From this we know that Bonnie has or will compose some mood-eccentuating tune in her father's memory. It will likely be very good. But, it makes me wonder if he's now looking down (or up) from the afterlife to try to fix things he broke like Billy had to do. Jeez, at 88, I sure hope not.

Is there anybody left?

Wormer? He's a Dead Man!

Sadly, with the passing of actor John Vernon, Brother Bluto's psychotically ranted prediction of the fate of 3 key enemies* of the Delta House comes one step closer to being completely correct - even if it is 43 years later.

Vernon was one of those actors one didn't notice right away. Some say that's the best kind, and the opinion has merit. I certainly didn't know he'd been in so many movies and TV shows until I started recognizing him while watching syndicated reruns and late-movies long after Animal House.

The dude played villains in a wide variety of pre-A/H movies and TV shows including Dirty Harry and The Outlaw Josey Wales. What I didn't know until I looked him up this morning is that his rumbling voice was that of Marvel Comic superhero Iron Man, and (as if this isn't simply the most appropriate foreshadowing of his Dean Wormer role) Big Brother in the 1956 version of 1984.

Vernon may also be regarded as the father of "double secret probation" which has been used since by many, most notably the Janet Reno Justice Department on David Koresh and Bill Gates, Bill Clinton on fired U.S. Surgeon General Joycelyn Elders, George Soros, Dan Ra^ther and Petrov Jennings on George W. Bush, and George W. Bush on Yasser Arafat.

Rest well Dean Wormer - I suspect even the late Senator Blutarsky has forgiven you.

*There has been no official confirmation that Lt. Jean Effing Kerry, USN, was the intended victim of the "fragging" in Vietnam that claimed the life of Delta nemesis Doug Neidermeyer, though that incident was claimed by some in the Kerry Kampaign to be the underlying justification for Kerry's fourth purple heart that got lost in the military bureacracy. The status of former Nixon aide and paroled felon Greg Marmalard could not be confirmed, however he is believed to be living in Massachussetts with his husband Trevor and their six Yorkies.

The Passing of Chunderpuss

A week ago today I undertook the grim task of assisting the aged and ailing Chunderpuss to the Great Beyond.

Chunderpuss arrived on our scene one morning in the summer of '88. I was rushing out the door to work and a little mewling sound stopped me in my tracks. Over in the flower bed off the patio was a tiny kitten - maybe 5 weeks old - with a ton of cattitude.

He had apparently been dropped off by someone who had observed we already had a cat - the semi-feral Missy - and anticipated (correctly) that we'd take him in.

He was particularly happy to see me.

From the outset, it was clear that Chunderpuss was from a long line of lap cats. He had the immediate and unceasing expectation that humans were put on this Earth to care exclusively for his kind, and him in particular. No newspaper reading allowed when Chunderpuss needed attention!

He earned his nickname for his unfortunate habit of eating rapidly, which lead to the subsequent un-eating. I documented one of his more famous episodes - Shinehead Revulses Chunderpuss - here. Otherwise, he was one of the most dignified, self-impressed cats I've ever known.

He was not given to foolish exhibitions, like the way Psumo got himself stuck in trees or on rooftops. He kept his hairball hacking to a minimum. He did not meow piteously to be let out (or in), though he did become a bit more vocal in his later years and would yowl insistently to get out at night when the prospects of catting about were particularly irresistible.

He was fierce in a fight and routinely ran off interlopers of various species. In one instance he suffered a nasty bite from a raccoon, and another time he severely chastised a rather large dog who never knew what hit him.

He was also quite fond of finding dark things to curl up and sleep upon, navy blue appeared to be his favorite color. Since I often wear navy blue pajamas, my lap was a favorite destination, and he had a somewhat troubling, if not downright uncomfortable, habit of trampling on me and kneading his claws through the fabric and into my flesh. Ouch.

As time passed, his health began to slip. Last December, the vet gave him some pills to control his thyroid, but he didn't like them very much. Then, about a month ago we noticed he wasn't grooming himself too well. The vet prescribed antibiotics for an infection and put him back on the thyroid medicine.

Bless Guido's heart, because he took Chunderpuss' care as his personal mission. If ever a cat had a chance, he did, because Guido was able to coax that cat into taking his medicine and took care to clean him up a bit and brush the tangles out of his fur.

But it was a steeper hill than any of us realized. It's common for cats with thyroid problems to also develop cancer, and while there was no point in testing for it, we're pretty sure that's what happened.

Once I determined there wasn't any real hope for recovery, I kept my solemn secret overnight. There wasn't any reason to bring everyone else in on it, because it was only going to prolong their anticipatory grief. I had bought some navy blue cotton fabric and afterwards dug as neat and precise a final resting place I could in the back yard next to Missy...

And we were sad, but it was a relief for all concerned. My only regret is that I couldn't see his condition any more objectively than I did, and let his decline go further than it really had to.

Fare well Chunderpuss, wherever you fare.

That 'Minds Me of the Time... (I)

Grumpybunny recently attended a employer-hosted "lifestyle" symposium on diet and extrasize in which the symposinator mispronuciated the word "obese" as "obeast." That in itself is worthy of propagation through use, but That 'Minds Me of the Time...

I took this finance class where the instructor (we'll call him "Elmer") was discussing loans and borrowing, using terms like: principal, collateral, interest, mortgage, chattel...

He kept saying how the bank would need "cowattawal" to "secuwah the bowwowwings". Obviously, if you don't "wepay the pwincipauw with intewest," the bank will have to "pounce on youwah cowattawal to wecovoah theiw money."

It was then that a friend of mine and I made eye contact and simultaneously mouthed the words "scwewy wabbit!

Got tossed out like two little chids giggling at Great Aunt Bodelia's funeral.