Summer update

I don't know what has made me finally update this thing. Well, okay... yes I do. Full disclosure.

I looked up some critic I used to read in the 80s/90s. A common hack, but a very puffed-up, self-righteous hack; one of those you remember for their never-ending indignation and bluster (which should not be confused with genuine insight). Whatever happened to that person?--I wondered.

Answer: They are teaching at an Ivy League university.

This warmed-over, self-congratulatory HACK is now teaching AT AN IVY LEAGUE SCHOOL ... and apparently, is regarded as pretty damn important. Say what?

And when did THAT happen? HOW did it happen? Who did they blow to get that job? Surely, this Ivy League school read the same warmed-over bluster that I did? Didn't they?!?

See, this is why writers give up. This is why. The hacks who repeat dopey conventional wisdom are rewarded with the best jobs in the land, while us poor local radio-hosts/bloggers/burnt-out columnists trudge ever-onward, totally ignored. They steal our ideas, our memes, our catchy phrases, our radio-show topics, et. al... and then they get the gigs the rest of us will never get because we are too poor, don't live in the right part of the country and don't wear the right shoes.

Further, we don't even know WHERE TO BUY the right shoes.

Anyway, I just thought I would mention that. Ivy League. Somebody who can't put together two decent similes in a row, now teaches the privileged children of American how to write badly. Jesus wept.

~*~

And now, the summer update. Yes, the summer is almost over, so I figured it was safe to update now.

Aside from posting some pretty photos and similar inconsequential ephemera, I have basically taken leave of evil tumblr, Heart of Darkness. My account was hacked and I thought, okay. This is it. They really really do not want me here, it certainly isn't just my imagination. I considered deleting my entire account/tumblr blog, but I have linked it here (and other places) a few times, and therefore have no desire to do that. If people dislike what I have written or what I have reblogged, I really don't care. (Reblogging does not equal agreement, but that concept is FAR TOO COMPLEX for the nasty suburban brats at tumblr to comprehend.) The vicious kids on tumblr remind me of those carnivorous dolls in Barbarella, except their actions are safely baptized with the words SOCIAL JUSTICE so its all perfectly okay. In fact, they routinely assure each other how wonderful they are with "appreciation posts" and "appreciation threads"--the more vicious and nasty you are, the more likely you will be greatly appreciated.

I have made a few friends on tumblr, for which I am grateful, but these people are notable for being NOTHING like the majority of participants, and proof of this is that all privately reached out to me. All seemed eager to talk to someone (anyone?) with a different point of view, but they are also afraid to cop to this desire out loud. And yes, I do understand.

The ideological lockstep governing the Left right now, is stifling and horrible. The only words for this paranoid climate are Stalinism and McCarthyism. For example, I am the only person I know hacked on tumblr for "transphobia"--as well as banned from (what many consider) the most "transphobic" blog on the net, Gendertrender (there is your warning). So go figure.
EDIT: I attempted to link to Gendertrender, to no avail... blocked already. (Am I important or what?) If you are sufficiently curious, you can copy and paste gendertrender.wordpress.com. As I said, Stalinism... which of course includes lots of textbook KGB cloak-and-dagger paranoia. (Why have a blog if you don't want anyone to read it? Ahhh, never mind. The paranoid mindset is a puzzle best left to the Freudians.)

As the Firesign Theater famously said, in a "marching cadence":

You ain't got no friends on the Right! (you're Left!)
You ain't got no friends on the Left! (you're right!)
Sound off, 1-2, sound off, 3-4...

I am very fortunate in that the work I have done in the real world (over decades) speaks for itself. If they want to hack, screech, holler, ban, call names, block my links, threaten, etc... have at it. I know what Stalinism is and this ain't my first trip to the Cultural Revolution.

I was getting purged way back in the day, long before it was hip.

~*~

At left: The best thing to happen this summer! I nominated our local activist dynamo, Traci Fant, as "Hero of the Month" on the Investigation Discovery network... and she won! Her organization, Think2XTwice, was awarded $1000 and she was also highlighted on the ID network site and on TV. I WAS SO PROUD!!!!!


See, watching true crime shows can have unexpected benefits!

~*~

On a postmodern note: I also co-organized our local demonstration against the misnamed SC Freedom Summit in May. This turned out to be a terribly depressing event, if there ever was one. Here in Greenville, it was Artisphere weekend (which I have mentioned here before many times) and the "summit" (a bunch of Republicans giving speeches, paid for by Fox News and the Koch brothers) was at the Peace Center, the same place we protested their last "debate" during last election season.

The weird thing was, nobody seemed to know it was happening. Nobody even knew it was going on. People looked at us quizzically and asked what we were protesting. There was NO big sign outside the Peace Center announcing the SC Freedom Summit and there were few campaigners outside, compared to other election events we have protested. (We believe this was deliberate, a way of speaking over the heads of the majority, to the "tuned-in" minority who vote in the primary.) This little soiree was practically invitation-only and private, like some parallel universe: Artisphere was the bread-and-circuses diversion for the Masses, as "serious business" was conducted inside the auditorium by Those Who Matter. Inside the Peace Center, important policy was being decided, whilst the folks outside eating hot dogs and listening to bands, were totally oblivious to the fact that the rich were planning their future. Our signs and chanting, all reminding them of these facts, were not particularly welcome. It was like, they didn't even believe us. The empty suits that showed up outside for photo ops, seemed to make this point; nobody recognized Ted Cruz or Ben Carson or Marco Rubio... the only excitement occurred when (guess who!) Donald Trump showed up. My co-demonstrator Elaine Cooper has been making the best of things: here is her photobomb campaign, which started with Trump at the Freedom Summit.

Elaine and I went inside at one point (she taped a good deal of it on her phone), but since we had "hostile" signs, we were deemed to be "acting inappropriately" and unceremoniously asked to leave. A FREE EVENT about FREEDOM (ha!) and we were bounced out. That's the Republican idea of freedom, baby! And don't forget it.

Elaine's first-person account is here in the Greenville Bray (pdf) and includes a good photo of us demonstrating too. I wrote a few words on Tumblr about it, but not much.

Elaine concurs with me; nobody outside at the festival seemed to know what was happening inside at the Summit... a very good metaphor for our entire political system.

~*~

And here is the star of our show, Democratic presidential candidate Senator Bernie Sanders.

I regret that my photos are not as good as they used to be. I have developed a pesky ESSENTIAL TREMOR due to thyroid disease, which makes taking good photos difficult. (another reason I no longer update as much as I used to) The tremor isn't too noticeable right now, but like most things, that will likely change. (*I* notice it, though, during fine motor coordination-type activities... such as writing, typing, sewing, braiding hair or photography.)

Anyway, we saw Sanders speak a couple of weeks ago and it was like Old Home Week ... as I saw nearly every southern progressive activist I know from here to the coast, as well as from here to Atlanta and Charlotte. He is inspiring a lot of hope right now... but I am cynical. I am always cynical. I have been cynical since they got rid of a nice peaceful peanut farmer and foisted a has-been right-wing actor on us. I doubt the cynicism will subside.

Photos below: August 21st, TD Convention Center in Greenville, SC.



~*~

Speaking of cynicism: Mr Robot was terrific. Can't wait for season 2.

Hope your summer has been eventful. I promise to drop in regularly from now on. I hope you will join me!

And yeah, we are on the radio for, I think, another month? We are winding down there, too, the end of an era. Check us out live on WOLI AM/FM at 8pm EST on Monday at least for a few more weeks. I don't know what comes after, but something always does. (More about that to come, I promise.)

I once hyperventilated at the mere thought of doing the show (and lost entire nights of sleep worrying over it!), but NOW after four years on the air, somebody can have an actual seizure in the studio while I am talking (I have witnesses) and I don't miss a beat.

~*~

Finally, some heartbreak ... after 15 years of true companionship and love, we lost the Official Cat of Dead Air. Our bodhisattva-kitty has gone on, to teach enlightenment to other humans. Truly, the most affectionate animal I have ever known, and his earthly death was crushing to both of us. But we know he has many others to teach besides us, so he was called home. We know his next owners will be forever changed when he appears at their door, as he appeared at ours.

Welcome the beloved and noble bodhisattva-kitty, who will teach you the meaning of unconditional love.

And when you meet him, please give him our best wishes, warm regards, love and kisses ... we miss him so much.

Odds and Sods - Tanya and Nancy 20th-Anniversary edition

At left: Tonya Harding talks to Geraldo. (Ohhh, she talked to everybody.)





Like every dedicated, connoisseur-level scandalmonger, I was knee deep in the whole Tanya Harding/Nancy Kerrigan Olympics foofaraw, back in 1994. ESPN has aired a timely Winter Olympics documentary titled "The Price of Gold"--which every good Harding/Kerrigan scandalmonger and sports groupie will certainly enjoy!

Other 20-year reminiscences about our favorite figure skater-gals:

ESPN revisits the Tonya Harding-Nancy Kerrigan scandal of 1994 (New York Daily News)

Tonya Harding Reflects on 20-Year Anniversary of Nancy Kerrigan Attack: "Get Over It" (E-Online)

Tonya, Nancy reflect on 'the Whack heard round the world' (USA Today)

And the most comprehensive, blow-by-blow account, for you true-crime hounds:

Harding-Kerrigan 20 Years Later: Remembering the Stunning, Life-Changing Attack (Bleacher Report)

~*~

At left: my daughter's cat, Napoleon.







I know there are people (waves at PETA) who think there can be vegetarian cats, but I think you are all insane. Sorry. That's the word for today: insane. Or maybe you don't really care about animals as much as you say you do?

Predatory animals eat PREY, you dolts.

But the legions of hard-core vegans continue to protest. A fellow named James Peden has even written a book, aptly titled Vegetarian Cats and Dogs. OMG, that is horrible. Dogs, maybe. Cats, no. This is plain old Appalachian folk wisdom speaking. CATS EAT MEAT, you deluded fools! They are not orangutans.

From Scientific American:

Unlike dogs and other omnivores, cats are true (so-called “obligate”) carnivores: They meet their nutritional needs by consuming other animals and have a higher protein requirement than many other mammals. Cats get certain key nutrients from meat—including taurine, arachidonic acid, vitamin A and vitamin B12—that can’t be sufficiently obtained from plant-based foods. Without a steady supply of these nutrients, cats can suffer from liver and heart problems, not to mention skin irritation and hearing loss.

As such, a cat’s ideal diet is made up mainly of protein and fats derived from small prey such as rodents, birds and small reptiles and amphibians. Some cats munch on grass or other plants, but most biologists agree that such roughage serves only as a digestive aid and provides limited if any nutritional value.

So there.

Still, even this article tries to have it both ways, and suggests that some companies (and whaddaya know, James Peden works for one of them! Imagine that!) have figured out the cat-related dietary issues and manufacture "imitation meats" with appropriate nutritive content, crafted especially for felines. I am skeptical, and will remain that way.

Unfortunately (and I say this as a serious vegetarian of many years duration), nothing lights up kitty's eyes like the sudden appearance of a mouse or moth, or a bird fluttering across the patio. If you have ever heard that little agitated "chirping" noise cat's make, then you know what I mean: Bloodlust. No other word for it.

We have chosen to live with predatory animals. How "animal-centric" or animal-rights-oriented is it, to expect them to be like humans? They are FELINES and we like them for being felines. Their lovely eyes and quirky independent behavior are that of HUNTERS, not pet cockatoos.

If you want dogs or cockatoos, then by all means, get them and feed them corn flakes or whatever... but CATS are special creatures and have always lived by their own cat rules. This is why we love them.

Don't starve your cat or make them miserable. If you want to buy them veggie cat food (because you understandably do not want to support the pet-food industry itself), just supplement this with a little tuna or fish.

But I would never EVER give my cats only vegetarian food on a daily basis.

~*~



For my fellow old hippies who, like me, unaccountably find ourselves sifting through the endless fulminating that is Tumblr, scratching our heads in abject confusion: I have BROUGHT YOU THE STONE TABLETS!

This brilliant and fascinating article is titled The Rise of the Post-New Left Political Vocabulary and it even comes with a handy-dandy chart for comparison of the Old Left vs New Left lexicon. (A million thanks to wonderful, astute John Powers for the link! I linked this on my own Tumblr and added a few comments.)

Sadly, some of my special favorite Tumblr-terms have not been mentioned, such as "othered"--and let's not forget "shaming" tacked onto the end of everything: slut-shaming, fat-shaming, food-shaming, etc. (I have repeatedly asked how one can be "shamed" without the consent of the shamed, but no replies have been forthcoming. Totally unhip question! Albert Ellis, call your office.) I once made fun of some MRA-dude on a blog, talking about "chicks"--and in old 70s-feminist style, I replied to him as if he had said "chickens"--one of our old jokes, which I STILL think is lots nicer (and hence, more effective) than screaming "you misogynist douchebag!" at him. He wrote "the chicks say..." and I replied, "If you have talking chickens, I think you need to contact the Nobel committee posthaste! WOW!" I also told him that he should not EAT the talking chickens, and maybe house them at some distance from the non-talking chickens, just to be sure they aren't accidentally slaughtered with the rest. Because those are some EXPENSIVE chickens, man! Guard them with your life!

Then again, if they are housed separately, it might keep the other chickens from learning how to talk.

Yes, I did go on at some length, until he stopped referring to women as animals. But it made him furious! (I told him, well, I've made an honest mistake! You are the one talking about poultry.)

Anyway, at this notable juncture, the MRAs promptly accused me of "language-shaming" this poor man with the talking chickens. Huh? What? I corrected them: No, I am MAKING FUN OF HIM and his antiquated pseudo-biker talk. Fuck this "shaming" bullshit.

Where do they get this stuff? Maybe screaming "douchebag!" at men who call women "chicks"--is what I should be doing instead?

Do you believe these people? They excoriate other leftists endlessly; they are deliberately cruel, nasty and vicious at every opportunity... but hey, no SHAMING anyone, because that makes you a puritan!

Whether they destroy people's self esteeem ANYway, without the "shaming"?

Well, who cares, right?

~*~

Other stuff:

:: Last week's celebrated Wednesday edition of the Occupy the Microphone radio show, Does music contribute to a culture of violence?--produced by Traci Fant, was exemplary. All of us connected with the show are exceptionally proud. Part of the show featuring Traci interviewing Cayson Logicc, has been made into a YouTube video for Blakfokused Filmz. Check it out, peeps! GREAT STUFF!

:: Can you say "arrogance"?: The Company Behind West Virginia's Chemical Spill Skips Congressional Hearing Well, what did you expect them to do, show up and take actual responsibility for trying to poison 1/6th of the state?

CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- The company that owns the facility that leaked 10,000 gallons of chemicals into the water supply of hundreds of thousands of West Virginians last month was a no-show at a congressional hearing on the spill Monday.

Freedom Industries, which owns the storage facility that leaked chemicals into the Elk River, did not have any representatives at a hearing of the House Transportation and Infrastructure Committee held in the state capital Monday morning. The company's president, Gary Southern, had been invited to testify.

"He chose not to be here today to answer for what his company has done to the people of West Virginia. And I find that extremely telling," said Rep. Shelley Moore Capito (R-W.Va.). "Freedom Industries' decision not to testify today compounds its gross misconduct, and is an absolute affront to every person impacted by its spill."

"The one empty seat ... belongs to the one entity at the epicenter of all this," said Rep. Nick Rahall (D-W.Va.), "the one who totally blew it."

"There is an odor coming from Freedom Industries, and it's not licorice," said Rahall, referring to the anise-like smell that residents have reported coming from their tap water following the spill.

:: From the New York Times--Speaking of the Olympics, here is "what it's like to be Fourth" (and just miss a medal).

:: I went to an Imbolc ceremony, which satisfied my primal need to honor Groundhog Day. It was wonderful!

It is so great to finally find my spiritual community!


~*~

And now, time to batten down the hatches for the upcoming ice storm. I just want the electricity to stay on, and if it does, I will count that as a win. (Ice storms inevitably bring about downed power-lines on a massive scale.) About 8 yrs ago, we lost power for 4 entire days, and it was traumatic. Remember, when you lose electricity, so has everyone else, so it's not like you can just bebop into a Best Western for a quickie hot shower, donut and hot coffee to get you through. The rooms are already booked up long before you even considered that. Nothing to do but wait it out, when it happens. Nightmarish. Just pray it isn't too bad.

I did not move down south to freeze my ass off. (growf!)

Stay warm, everyone, and watch out for the ever-treacherous black ice. Don't forget to check on outside-dwelling animals, and consider letting them into basements, sheds, inside-porches or sun-rooms during the storm.

First Caturday of Spring

This is my very BEST photo of Cyril yet, by far! (Yes, Mr Daisy's man-legs are in the photo, but I think that's why Cyril is so mellow, too; he likes to sit by Dad.) The second kitty is the venerable Peace Cat, official cat of DEAD AIR.



Here we have Peace Cat AND Cyril together... Again, pardon the man-foot.




I finally remembered to post kitties on Saturday... and I was wondering: who decided the old tried-and-true feline meme, Friday Cat Blogging, needed to be updated? And why was it moved up one day?

And yeah, I got ANSWERS!--

Actually, they appear to be dueling memes: Friday Cat Blogging is clocked from March 14, 2003 and just celebrated its 10th anniversary as an internet meme. It was even written about in the New York Times.

Caturday dates from December 12, 2006, when cat photos were posted every Saturday on 4Chan. (A personal blog by the name CATURDAY dates from 2005, but does not appear to be connected to 4Chan.)

So, I guess you can pick whichever day you prefer. I am moving to Caturday since I love the sound of it.



As always, you can click photos to enlarge. Happy Caturday, everybody!

Cyril's post

When Cyril saw Zuzu and Sharon, he insisted that he be given his own post too.

Cyril turned two years old in April. In cat years, this makes him a teenager, which explains a lot. For some reason, he swats everything onto the floor, which makes my home look like we have been littering. If it's tissue or has a tissue-like consistency, he will shred the item to bits. Shreds of... whatever... are now found in all the nooks and crannies of my bedroom and closets. He loves closets, and will happily sit in one for a whole day, as you call and call for him... panicking that he has gotten outside and is lost. No, just hanging out in the closet. He doesn't meow to get out since he likes it in there.

Cyril was named after St Cyril of Jerusalem, NOT the misogynist St Cyril of Alexandria, a sectarian pain in the ass and inciter of lynch mobs against Hypatia. Both were Doctors of the Church and alive around the same time, so it is easy to get them confused. My Cyril was exiled and banished for having original and cool ideas, the other Cyril was inciting riots against heretics, so there is a major difference.

I frequently tell Cyril about his famous and holy namesake. But he just gets these blank looks on his face; the very same look my daughter used to get when I tried to teach her this stuff. (sigh)

Cyril gives a big southern HEY! to Zuzu and Sharon, and says maybe they could all get together later for some catnip.

SC dog is smartest in the world!

At left: Chaser the wonder dog, photo by Ken Osburn of The Greenville News.


Mr Daisy's late Uncle Cecil had the ability to train dogs to do all kinds of tricks. He liked to hunt, so he preferred hounds, especially beagles. One beagle had been his favorite, the smartest dog in the world, he said. There was a large painted portrait of the late beagle on his wall. "I loved that dog," he would say wistfully, showing the picture to visitors.

The best trick the dog did (I regret I can't remember the pooch's name) was pick up lettered blocks BY LETTER. Uncle Cecil would keep the blocks in a little bag, and then spread them out on the floor as the dog sat obediently and waited. He would scatter and arrange the lettered wooden blocks, and then, tell the dog to pick up the letter....B!

And the dog did.

Everyone was amazed.

Uncle Cecil would gather up the blocks in the bag and do it over and over, spilling the blocks onto the floor as the dog watched. He would spread the blocks out carefully again, then...F! (He changed the letter each time, which was the really incredible thing.)

And the dog picked up F.

There was never any rhyme or reason to the letters chosen; it was never the same letter every time. People couldn't believe a dog was so smart. They came from miles around to see Uncle Cecil's ultra-smart dog.

Can you guess the trick?

I thought of Uncle Cecil's dog when I heard about Chaser, the smartest dog in upstate South Carolina, maybe the world. He will be profiled on the PBS show NOVA (on February 9th), since he has learned 1000+ words, more than any dog on record. He has over 1000 toys, all with different names, and when he is asked to fetch them by name, he does.

Okay, Uncle Cecil made me skeptical, so I will have to watch NOVA and see if this is for real.

From the GREENVILLE NEWS:

It’s a scientific record.

Chaser is top dog in the current issue of the scientific journal “Behavioural Processes,” as noted in the Christmas Day edition of “The New Scientist,” and will be featured in a Feb. 9 NOVA documentary on PBS television.

Soon after [retired Wofford College psychology professor John] Pilley brought Chaser home as an 8-week-old puppy, he read an article by German researchers about a border collie that could understand 200 words. Pilley took that as a challenge.

“Border collies, because of their history of listening to the master and keeping their eyes simultaneously on the herd, may be especially prepared to learn language,” Pilley said.

Pilley and Alliston Reid, a Wofford psychology professor, with the help of some students, began three years of research to gain new insight into the intellect of border collies.

“These dogs can understand,” Reid said. “If you own a dog, you know the dog has emotions and is an intelligent being.”

In controlled experiments, Chaser demonstrated that she could remember each of her 1,022 toys by name. With that number, the two psychologists — who had to write the name on each toy to remember them all — decided there probably was no upper limit to what Chaser could learn.

~*~

Here is the trick:

Uncle Cecil had no reason to put the blocks in a bag. Also, he would do the trick over and over, but only after putting the blocks in a bag and repeating the whole ritual. He never asked the dog to pick up two lettered blocks IN A ROW. Even so, no one ever guessed his secret.

He would carefully spread the blocks on the floor... and it was always the last block he touched.

Sometimes, Uncle Cecil would touch one just at the last second, almost as an "afterthought" to try and fool him, but the dog always did the trick correctly. He always knew which block he was supposed to pick up, but waited to be "told". Uncle Cecil would tell him to pick up the last one he touched (A! P! M!)--and only then, would he pick up the correct wooden block. The dog greatly enjoyed all the laughter, applause and attention, wagging his tail enthusiastically; he loved doing the blocks trick!

Nobody ever figured it out. Uncle Cecil did not tell the secret until after his beloved canine friend had passed on.

He said he could not bear to teach the trick to another dog.

My sweet little Cyril (not so Wordless Wednesday)

He's now 4 1/2 months old, and he has my heart. (Can anyone come up with any other captions?)

Take the chains off the dogs!

Left: Dogs Deserve Better founder Tamira Thayne is chained to a dog house for her second day in a row in Piazzo Bergamo in downtown Greenville, SC, as she demonstrates alongside another group, Pawsitive Effects, an organization that helps build fences for pets. She is demonstrating in the annual "Chain-Off"--which brings crucial attention to the danger of chaining dogs. Photo by Heidi Heilbrunn of the Greenville News.

Some of the participating folks are my customers, so I am very proud and pleased to report this demonstration! The event itself is seven years old, but this weekend marked the first year it has been held in Greenville.

Dog activists in Greenville send message about chaining dogs outside

By Paul Alongi • Staff Writer • July 13, 2009
Greenville News

Animal-rights advocates shed their chains Sunday after spending two straight days tethered to doghouses in one of downtown Greenville's most visible venues.

Their message was simple: “Don't chain your dog,” said Tamira Thayne, founder of Tipton, Pa.-based Dogs Deserve Better.

Advocates said that chaining dogs is legal in many areas but takes away their ability to run away, making them more likely to bite people.

At least two Upstate child deaths have been blamed on chained dogs since 2003.

Advocates said children are particularly at risk because they often don't recognize dogs' warning signs.

“When you realize you are no longer able to flee the scene, you're just always amped up for the fight,” Mikael Hardy said. “And dogs don't distinguish between a cat, a squirrel and a 2-year-old toddler.”

Being chained also is painful for the dog.

Some people buy a puppy, chain it and as it grows, the collar becomes embedded in its neck.

One alternative to chaining is to keep dogs inside fences, Hardy said.

Her Greenville-based group, Pawsitive Effects, helps build 600-square-foot fenced enclosures for dog owners who can't afford them, she said.

About 120 people chained themselves in demonstrations throughout the country, but the main Dogs Deserve Better event was in Greenville, Thayne said.

Six demonstrators kept themselves chained for about 28 hours, starting Saturday morning and ending Sunday afternoon, Thayne said.

They spent their days at Piazza Bergamo to draw attention to their cause and slept under a barn overhang at a local farm, Thayne said.

Several others tethered themselves part of the time, she said.

It takes a dog lover to give up so much time and comfort, and Hardy fits the profile.

She has nine dogs, all rescued animals, in addition to two children and a husband.

There is plenty of room for all on their three-acre spread, she said.

Of the nine dogs, she said, three are pit bulls and two of those, Martha Goldfinch (a male) and Seymore (who is blind) had been chained.

When she put Martha on a leash to take him for a walk, he went in a circle.

She finally had to put him on a treadmill so he would walk forward.

Even for dog lovers, being chained made for a grueling, exhausting weekend.

When Thayne finally threw off her chain, she said she had “the best shower of the year.”

Unfortunately, chained dogs are extremely common here in the south. Admittedly, it's better than being charged by a large, angry rottweiler, which happened to me while on an evening walk, around 1991. But I later learned the dog that charged me was usually chained up. (My defense: I ran right into the street, a busy thoroughfare, and took my chances; the dog actually attempted to cross the street after me but became confused by the heavy traffic and retreated. But the dog was confused, not scared and not chastened, by any means. One of the most unnerving, frightening experiences I have ever had.) Neighbors agreed the dog seemed perpetually angry and ill-tempered, and predictably, wore one of those spiky collars, which made him appear even scarier. But I now realize that even for a rottweiler, the dog had been trained to be mean and "amped up" (see above) for a fight by being chained all the time.

Once you chain such a dog, it becomes dangerous to UNchain them, as I am here (but almost wasn't!) to attest...

My other dog-charging story involves a large unchained pit bull that started charging toward me at several hundred yards... I nearly died on the spot. Nowhere to run, deer in the headlights, I just stood there. I said my Hail Marys and prepared to meet my maker, hoping it wasn't too painful.

Well, the dog turned out to be a VERY LARGE pit bull PUPPY, delightedly galumphing toward me in welcome, tail wagging.... happy to make my acquaintance. He jumped on me, ecstatically happy and licking me with puppy-love. I nearly wet myself as I petted him, weak with relief, burbling insanely "...what a good doggie, what a good doggie...."...Oh dear God. Whew.

As the expression goes, good fences make good neighbors, and I would add, good fences also make good dog owners!

How I spent my summer vacation

My three-year-old granddaughter Victoria is here for the week. As I twittered to the masses, HOW ON EARTH do these famous old broads my age (Holly Hunter, et. al.) manage to handle hyper-energetic preschoolers?

Ah yes. Nannies.

I am too old for this.

Meanwhile, the kitten loves her, but doesn't seem to realize that he should not frolic directly underfoot--she isn't exactly watching her step as she gallops pell-mell through the premises. (I keep expecting to find squashed kitten. Not a happy thought.)

Of course, they are both babies and on some level, seem to realize this and seek the other's company. It's too cute for words.

Other adorable things she does: When cranky and crying, she wails brokenheartedly, "I need a NAP! I need a NAP!" (Certainly, I know the feeling.)

When credits appear on screen after a movie or TV show, she points melodramatically and announces, "We did it and ON TIME!" I don't know if this is in impersonation of a parent or what, but it's as darling as the dickens.

Hope to get back to normal after the 4th of July. Right now, I am swimming in snack-foods of various animal-shapes.

How do the mommy-bloggers manage?

Oh yeah, youth!

Official Cat of Dead Air

At left: Peace Cat, official cat of Dead Air.

Isn't he just so sweet? He only weighs 6 pounds. I figured him to be about 6-8 months old when he came to our door, and he turned out to be fully grown. At that time, the vet estimated his age to be about 15 months old. He now approaches his ninth year, still looking like a sweet kitten. He has one of the sweetest dispositions of any cat I have ever owned. Although he was a stray, he obviously belonged to someone at one time. (He was already neutered.) He came to the terrace and jumped right on our laps, starved for attention. I would usually shriek, since he was covered with ticks from the woods. Even with the shrieking, he would purr delightedly on my lap. We fed him for around 6-8 weeks and finally decided to bring him inside. One of our best decisions ever.

As a scavenger, Peace Cat required major de-worming and assorted other expensive medical care. A few days before bringing him in, he brought us a dead mole as a gift, which he left right in front of the door to the terrace. We always joke that he must be thinking we really liked the mole, and let him in because of that: Wow, that mole landed me this cushy gig.

He has never tried to get outside, and shows no interest in going out, even with the door wide open. We assume this is because the time he lived outside was not pleasant, and he has no desire to repeat the experience.

Yes, he is my baby.

Wordless Wednesday: Feline Urgent Rescue

I dropped by Feline Urgent Rescue on Laurens Road yesterday. This one is still lodged in the old Petsmart; the new one on Woodruff Road has glass cages, and I don't like it very much. I like this one, since I can stick my hand inside the cages. (Yes, probably some liability issue, and some kids have likely stuck their hand in the wrong cage--but I have only been rewarded with purring.)

If I could, I'd take every single one home. I love them all. My best kitties have all been strays.

The second kitty is ENORMOUS, almost bobcat size, but a real sweet pussycat. But I think he might be hard to keep inside!

Her equal would be hard to find, she likes the warm and sunny spots

Below, my Cousin Bethie's cats, Elvira and Pharoah.

Elvira, the brown-striped tabby, was originally my daughter's cat, then mine, and now resides with Cousin Bethie. Pharoah was rescued by Bethie's husband while on a routine work assignment, the day before he was scheduled to go to the shelter.

Elvira's ears are a bit flattened because she is spooked by my reappearance in her life. Obviously, cats do have memories! She seems afraid that I will take her away, or at least, becomes noticeably nervous and disoriented whenever I reappear. (Do I look different, but sound the same? The opposite?) She might be further confused by my voice, which sounds a great deal like my daughter's. (She always recognized my daughter's voice instantly and would run to greet her.) Elvira is almost 12 years old now.

She hated Grand Old Man with a deep and furious passion.

When I pet her, she looks up at me--meowing and purring immediately. It's as if there is a tactile memory that reawakens; just between us.

~*~







----------------
Listening to: Bob Marley & the Wailers - Satisfy My Soul
via FoxyTunes

National Enquirer Kitty!

... has an inquiring mind.








----------------
Listening to: The Replacements - Alex Chilton
via FoxyTunes

Friday Cat Blogging: do kitties grieve?

Left: Peace Cat (black and white) and the late Grand Old Man, were always together.

~*~

Since the death of my beloved Grand Old Man, my youngest cat, Peace Cat, is alone.

He started out with us over six years ago in a household of three cats, and now he is the only one left.

Peace Cat loved to sleep next to Grand Old Man and fight with him. He also pestered him terribly and chased him everywhere. I used to adopt an "old man voice" and complain, imagining how he must feel, as Grand Old Man just looked so TIRED and weary of any more fun feline-games. Peace Cat, contrary to his name, loved to jump on him and bite his ears. Grand Old Man would loudly growl and whine, as if he just couldn't even muster up the energy to swat back at him. (The noise was meant to signal ME, to break it up.)

When Grand Old Man was sick, he huddled under an end-table. I found him when I was calling for him and he was too sick to respond; Peace Cat (just like the fabled TV canine, Lassie) went under the table, as if pointing to him. He licked his ears earnestly, as if to say (simultaneously): HERE HE IS!... and "I'm sorry for all those times I bit your ears!"

Peace Cat seems sad now. Am I projecting? Do cats grieve?

I ask because he did indeed seem to love Grand Old Man, and followed him everywhere.

Yesterday, I discovered Peace Cat near the window in the spare room, where Grand Old Man used to sleep during the day. There are still wads of gray hair in the window, that I can't bear to clean up yet.

I saw Peace Cat poking on the closed curtain. Poke, poke. I realized: OMG! It's one of the feline-games! He used to poke on the curtain while Grand Old Man slept. Eventually, Grand Old Man would poke BACK (cats simply can't contain themselves for very long in such circumstances, regardless of their age) and the feline curtain-game would be ON. That's how my curtain got all torn up, too.

And Peace Cat was poking the curtain, possibly hoping his old friend would reappear, and poke back through the curtain. Or just pretending and playing anyway?

Can kitties have hope and memories?

He waits for the answering swat through the curtain, that never comes. He looks as sad as I am. Is that possible?

(I miss him, too, PC. I miss him, too.)

Dead Air Church - Sweetness Follows

A week since I lost my feline muse.

Several times, I thought I saw him on the couch... no, only a recently-shed piece of clothing, the same color.

I thought I heard him meow. No, it was only a cat-food commercial.

I keep thinking, hey, where did he go?

Oh. Right.

Thus, for Dead Air Church, one of my favorite songs about death. Sorry if that bums you out.

This version has the beautiful lyrics included.




~*~

It's these little things
they can pull you under

Live your life filled
with joy and thunder

~*~

Sweetness Follows - R.E.M.

[via FoxyTunes / R.E.M.]

Seven songs meme

Lovely Ren roused me from my grief by tagging me with a meme. See what nice friends I have? (She got an iPod and it just seemed pertinent!)

~*~

List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now, shaping your spring-summer. Post these instructions in your blog along with your seven songs. Then tag seven other people to see what they’re listening to.

I've already posted several of these songs and decided to post the rest, so you can listen to em here if you want to.

~*~

LAUGHING--David Crosby

Actually, I've been listening to the last two minutes, the amazing steel guitar solo by Jerry Garcia, which is resplendent.

MUSIC EYES--Heartsfield (2nd song in link)

Overjoyed to find this old song, and have listened to it about 5000 times since it was first posted to YouTube last week.

AIN'T LIFE GRAND--Widespread Panic

Always makes me think of summer, for some reason... probably because I first remember hearing it in a horrendous summer traffic jam, where I had the AC in the car way up. And it properly reminded me: you aren't in an accident, you aren't poverty-stricken or unemployed, people care about you, so just calm the fuck down. Zen message, which I listen to whenever I need to be reminded: Ain't Life Grand?

I love the wistful, ironic way the song is delivered. I think it was Wendell Barry (?) who said the Southern Way is "sitting on the fence post, commenting wryly on the ways of God"... and this song is the musical equivalent of that sentiment.

~*~

This next one goes out to the AA folks. I've listened to it most of my life, at some point. I love the hard-nosed sensibility; like the last song, it "wakes me up"--as the Buddhists would say. It brings me back to myself and reminds me of first principles. It's also one of the greatest country songs ever written.

I was once at an AA picnic and virtually EVERY SINGLE PERSON KNEW THE WORDS...even the children! That says plenty, huh? (Unlike a lot of people these days, he takes FULL RESPONSIBILITY!)

Mama Tried - Merle Haggard

[via FoxyTunes / Merle Haggard]

~*~

Abrupt change in sensibility. I've been patiently waiting for Netflix to ship me the movie about Ian Curtis, titled CONTROL. I MUST SEE IT. Meanwhile, listening to WARSAW, which is the most claustrophobic punk song ever written.

Every now and then, I get a sort of clairvoyance concerning who isn't long for this world. Or is it (as the skeptics would undoubtedly say) that I'm just very attuned to the particular reality of addiction? (see AA reference above) At various times in my life I have heard certain songs and then pronounced "That person isn't long for this world!"--spooking my daughter, Delusional Precious, with my prescience and accurate fortune-telling. Most historic of these documented instances: WOULD?, ALL APOLOGIES and NO RAIN. In each instance, I thought, wow, that guy is gonna die, and SOON. I don't know if it's the actual song-lyrics, or the fact that I have heard literally thousands of addicts talk in thousands of 12-step meetings, and the overall sentiments expressed in the songs ring some kind of existential bell? Or is it something else I am hearing on some other sensory level? Whatever it is, I can hear it, and it always alarms me in a distinctive way. DEATH IMMINENT is what I hear. (And the song might even be relatively sprightly, as NO RAIN is, but I heard it anyway.)

And I thought the same thing when I heard WARSAW. I thought, DAMN, that guy, whoever he is, is NOT LONG FOR THIS WORLD. (When I finally get the movie about Ian, promise to post a review!)

Warsaw - Joy Division

[via FoxyTunes / Joy Division]

~*~

Nostalgic pining away for the days in San Francisco before AIDS took my friends away. It was fun, you guys. I have no words to properly express it, but I do have the song.

(Why does it start out with a HARP? Because we were in heaven, of course.)

Boogie Nights - Heatwave

[via FoxyTunes / Heatwave]

~*~

And this election season, we are well reminded that the big fish eat the little ones, the big fish eat the little ones...

Something we should always keep in mind, even if we are optimistic.

Optimistic - Radiohead

[via FoxyTunes / Radiohead]

~*~

I TAG THE FOLLOWING:

white rabbit (who had issues with my quirky meme! you should like this one better, dude!)
Jojo
Annie
Rootie
Vanessa, who usually includes fun stories with her memes, like I do.
Nexy
And John Powers, to get him to update his blog!

~*~

Yall have been just wonderful in the face of my grieving. Thank you so much. It was (and still is) a shock.

My mother's beloved Siamese kitty lived to be 18, and I was kinda hoping for that long lifespan, even though I knew Grand Old Man's digestive system wasn't in very good shape.

And it happened so fast; just like with old humans. Simple illnesses are no longer simple.

It's hard to write without my muse. I've been doing it so long; Grand Old Man nestled in my lap as I typed. And when I got going really good, he would emit a sweet, quiet, musical purr, as if he could somehow sense that my brain was creatively humming along. His contented purr let me know I was writing well. We were connected that way, and I feel like a tentacle, a sensory antenna, was severed.

I just loved him so much. It will take a long time to recover.

Grand Old Man 1993-2008

My Grand Old Man's kidneys and heart failed today. He was about 15 years old, pretty old for a kitty. I blogged about him here, here and here.

Emotionally devastated; I don't have anything to say.

~*~

The following comic is from Dykes To Watch Out For. (It's kinda hard to read on a blog, so for a larger version, click here.)

God Bless Alison Bechdel, for giving me the art and the words.

Goodbye, my dear friend.

~*~

Friday Cat Blogging

Caption: Why doesn't she leave me alone? Doesn't she know I dislike her flashing steel box game? Boring.

----------------
Listening to: Patti Smith Group - 25th Floor
via FoxyTunes

You now have learned enough to see, that cats are much like you and me

Grand Old Man went to the Catty Shack today, for beautification and nasty insect removal.

As you can see, he wasn't too thrilled about the idea.

In that last picture, there's no mistaking who he holds accountable for this humiliation.

~*~

The Catty Shack is a fun place to visit, because the proprietor boards and shows cats. Lots of felines constantly prowl the premises.

For a cat lover, a little bit of heaven. :)