Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.

 

Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").

links

decay & ruin
Biosphere II
Chernobyl
dead malls
Detroit
Irving housing

got that wrong
Paleofuture.com

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff


Like asecular.com
(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   dog birthday party
Saturday, March 5 2016
Sarah the Vegan and her new boyfriend Jerome came over this morning to walk the dogs. Later Jerome gave us a quote for painting our living room that was so low that Gretchen told him she would be more comfortable paying him $50 more.
This afternoon, there would be a birthday party for Chongo, the dog belonging to Nick & Chrissy at their spectacular Victorian mini-mansion on St. James Street in Kingston. I would be bringing my dogs, and I'd also be picking up Nancy and her dog Jack. I'd taken a recreational 120 milligram dose of pseudoephedrine partly to stave off nascent symptoms of some sort of head cold, which have manifested mostly in the mornings and then quickly dissipated. Gretchen had to go to some poetry thing and couldn't make it to Chongo's party until later, but she'd made a tray of cupcakes for people and, for the dogs, a bunch of peanut butter biscuits (made with peanut butter that Ramona had stolen from the kitchen island and then contaminated with her doggy saliva but failed to completely eat before we caught her).
Nancy and I were the first to arrive, and as we did so, we noted that the multi-unit Victorian rental that Gretchen and I are considering buying as an investment is across the street and down the block only four or five houses to the west. That house was an early subject of conversation with Nick, and he said it is by far the worst house in the neighborhood, implying that anything we could do to fix it up would redound well to local property values (although he also seemed a bit more concerned about the plight of the existing tenants than had either Gretchen or I).
As for the dogs, there was an initial skirmish between Ramona and Chongo that later turned out to have been about a rawhide bone that Chongo didn't even care about. But soon, all was well, and all the dogs were playing wildly in the back yard. A little tawny dog named Carmine showed up later and she and Ramona got into a fight, but once that was broken up, they too managed to get along. Also in attendance was Q & N's Coach Eric Taylor and, later, a curly-haired mid-sized black dog who didn't stay long. In the end there were at least seven dogs in attendance.
The highlight of the party came when a "dog food cake" was placed in the middle of the dining room table and then any dogs with sufficient self-control were helped into seats to await slices of the cake to be placed before them. This sounds absurd on its face, but little Carmine took a seat, as did Chongo, and I got Eleanor and Ramona into seats as well. They didn't even mind the little cone-shaped hats strapped to their heads. The dogs at the table got their slices first, although somehow Eleanor, being closest to the cake, managed to eat at least three slices on her own. Gretchen showed up in the midst of this delightful scene, which will probably be the highlight of the late days of Eleanor's life. The swelling in her lymph nodes never went down despite a course of antibiotics, and it's looking like she may have lymphoma after all. We're awaiting the results of yet another test the vet convinced us to order to know "for sure."


Dog party! In the left background is Carmine, in the middle background is Chongo, and in the foreground is Eleanor.


Eleanor eventually just got up on the table and began eating anything nearby. This is not the kind of behavior we would tolerate from Ramona, but Eleanor is hesitant, deliberate, never wants to impose, and she's also old enough to get anything she wants.


Ramona sitting in a chair while Coach Eric Taylor hassles her from below.

Much later, after an evening of teevee and mild booze consumption, I went to bed only to wake up in a sort head-cold-related malaise, one that seemed most effectively dispatched with ten milligrams of ambien. After I took it, I poked around on Facebook and soon discovered that Matt Rogers was already in the process of unfriending me, making this period of detante in our frenemyship perhaps the shortest ever. His reason for doing so was that I'd failed to do something he'd repeatedly ordered me to do, which was to post a picture of a penis he fondly remembers me drawing on the wall of our co-op kitchen back in our college days. It's a picture he now celebrates as a victory in the war against the politically correct. Initially when I failed to post the picture, he mocked me for my presumed support of Hillary Clinton. But I mocked him back by claiming to support MARCO RUBIO 2016. He then claimed my brain was rotted from alcohol and even tussin. Several hours passed, and when he didn't hear back from me, he claimed he was unfriending me. Somehow I managed to save the thread wherein this meltdown occurred. Here it is, for your entertainment:

Matt Rogers:· An artistic challenge for Gus Mueller please recreate your 3D pierced penis squirting the word L.S.D. drawing you did back in the day (vastly preferable) or as a booby prize a picture of the Hillary Clinton sign on your front lawn and post to my wall here.

Me: you really think i have a hillary clinton sign in my front yard, matt? WRONG!! MARCO RUBIO 2016!!!

Matt Rogers: What's the difference?

Matt Rogers: And where's my pic?

Matt Rogers: The only difference is one is "pro choice" and the other isn't, they are both corporate scum war mongers. Ironically Trump may be the least of the war mongering choices as he says he'll deal with Putin and has made no aggressive noises about Iran, unlike both Clinton and Rubio.

Me: i know that when the revolution comes, there will only be a tiny number of people pure enough to rule and that everyone else will be up against the wall, but until that time comes, i understand the secret to politics: you can't get any better than what you CAN get. thus MARCO RUBIO 2016!!!

Matt Rogers: That vodka tea and cough syrup has rotted your brain, you used to be witty, now you are just heavy handed and dense.

Me: when you start talking like that, i know i've basically won the argument. i assume you'll be pulling a lever for MARCO RUBIO 2016 at a polling place near Ypsilantucky soon!

Matt Rogers: What difference would it make? Both Rubio and Hitlery want to nuke Iran and start WWIII with Putin. I know, muh abortions! I am seriously tempted to vote for Trump just to make low information voters like you butt mad!

Matt Rogers: Rubio is a little light in the loafers for my taste, too many Miami foam parties!

Me: MARCO RUBIO 2016 would be better though because of all the tax breaks for people not getting abortions.

Matt Rogers: You think you are clever don't you? Abortions are a sucker issue to keep the rubes distracted from thinking about difficult subjects like the TPP trade agreement, and ways to deal radical Islam other than global war.

Me: i also like how MARCO RUBIO 2016 points out the fallacies in the arguments of opportunist scientists CRAVENLY TRYING TO GET GRANT MONEY -- the world is actually getting colder, not warmer. how else do you explain ice bergs off the coast of brazil?

Matt Rogers: Do you really think Hillary Clinton who was on the board of directors of Wal-Mart and who took 675,000 in speaking fees from Goldman Sachs is going to enact a green agenda? You are actually tarded aren't you? Arguably Trump is the greenest candidate because he will keep U.S. population from expanding as rapidly as the open borders set. You did read my Edward Abbey post, right or was it too long for your frazzled attention span?

Now cue, muh "raycism," sob!

[Note: Edward Abbey was the godfather of radical environmentalism, a worldview Matt Rogers knows I grew up in. Some of the things Mr. Abbey said could be construed as racist, and he was among those who viewed immigration as contributing to overpopulation. But it turns out that, at least with respect to Mexicans and Donald Trump's wall, there is currently a net emigration of Mexicans from the United States.]

Matt Rogers: Anyway put up or shut up with the penis pic!

Matt Rogers: If you aren't forthcoming with penis art I'll have to dump you off the ship, again, you are mainly just a narcissistic asshole and if you aren't producing art or some other entertainment a ponderous bore who thinks he is a witty comic. Jon Stewart greatest comedian evar, right? (Innocent blink). [Note: this is classic Matt Rogers. He's making a reference to something, yet I have no idea what he means. Having a tendency to speak in ellipses and fly into rages probably plays a role in the fact that Matt Rogers still lives with his long-suffering mother at the age of fifty.]

Matt Rogers: Adding Gus back was a failed experiment it's nice he endorsed me on linkedin and all, but it's not enough.

Me: not as failed of an experiment as the one your mother made that resulted in you living in her basement at the age of fifty

Me: lol, you're ordering me around on my own facebook wall. you've turned into donald trump! good riddance, asshat!


For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?160305

feedback
previous | next