Schmaltz und Grieben mit Alois, Klaus, Deb und der Lugers

The Cool Kids: Muldia Lileks Berg Insomnomaniac Zee n' Lig Malkin Footballs Frank J. Whittle Muir Dr. DNA Belmont Geras Barber Totten Levant Lies Anti-CAIR McMillan Liberal Utopia Iraq Graham Remal / Brown Wannabe Voices O'Malley Burns Medlock Jihad Watch Burkhart Lumina
Important Thinkers: Victor Davis Hanson Charles Krauthammer
Ralph Peters Mark Steyn Jeff Jacoby The Institute on Religion and Democracy
The Dark Side: Name Your Treason Al-Jizz Pacific Views Perkel Kos CAIR Dhimmicratic Underground

Who the Hell Are We?

"...the most-improved blog I know of... always a good read."
Mitch Berg, Shot in the Dark

"...I like they way they present their view even when I don't agree."
Lewis Medlock, Deliverance

"...fortuitously discovered in my recent wanderings - good stuff."
Zee, Road Sassy

"...entertaining and provocative. Just how I like it."
Rachel Arieff

"...whew, wow, yowsa and yikes!" Jan Karlsbjerg

"Malignant."  Tim Dailey

....................

July 2009

07/03/09:

MEDDLING IS OK, AS LONG AS THEY'RE NOT MUSLIM: Am I missing something???

Pretty strong words considering there have been no reports of widespread SLAUGHTER of innocent people, no mass censorship, no expulsion or intimidation of foreign (US) journalists (never mind the imprisonment of any), and the main side effect in terms of how it affects our integrity seems to be their inability to legally take monetary aid from us if it IS a coup! So what's the barometer? In countries where we've meddled before, it's OK to meddle again, provided what? Provided they're not Muslim? Provided they're NOT killing innocent people by the hundreds? Provided there's no oil at stake? Provided what????

Posted by Deb on

SHE'S VERY BA-A-A-A-D: Kinda like that recently-departed-colossal-waste-of-talent Michael Jackson, Christina Aguilera does the bad-girl-in-tha-hood thing.

(This is your past-due Happy Wednesday.)

Posted by Alois on

OBAMAREGIME PRESELECTING TOWN HALL QUESTIONS?!? Gosh, Batman, it looks like the Messiah and/or his minions is/are trying to... manipulate the media!

Say it ain't so!

Kudos to reporter Chip Reid for having the unprecendented courage to stand up to the Barackracy. [Alois: "Chip, you can always get a job as a truck driver!"]

Posted by Klaus on

BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN: I don't really like to announce my itinerary in advance... but suffice to say that the I.C., the SydKyd, and your humble narrator have recently returned from a sojourn to points south (including Oxford, Mississippi, the St. Louis Zoo, and auf course Sikeston and Perryville, Missouri). So that means that first of all, we must update the SydKyd's Douwe Osinga States-Visted Map:

visited 14 states (28%)

We had a splendiferous time in the Southland, and if I can get the SydKyd a USB cable, I can upload photos from the trip (courtesy of her ubiquitous camera phone, auf course).

I think that the best way to visit the South is to eat barbeque until you're blue in the face, enjoy Southern hospitality (it's as real as the Pope is Catholic), avoid Graceland (Paul Simon notwithstanding), and sing Sweet Home Alabama all summer long. Heh.

And make sure that you don't miss overlooked gems like Oxford and Perry County.

In other news: I'm still working at the Co-op, and have (until today) been there literally every minute that I wasn't on vacation. Which may help explain the lack of posting hereabouts.

And in the Obamanation, where money grows on trees (unless you're one of the nearly one in ten Americans that is unemployed) government continues apace.

Kin I get extra anchovies with that?


Credits: AP Photo, Denny

And more of the Midnight saga, beginning tomorrow!

Posted by Alois on

June 2009

06/22/09:

DEB THROWS IT DOWN: Although it's not like our esteemed co-blogger to seek attention, she's also not one to shy away from telling it like it is.

This, from a Charlotte news station, really made my day. (Deb appears at 2:26, and basically says what our Esteemed Leader doesn't have the nerve to say.)

Posted by Alois on

THE NANNY STATE MUST GO ON! With violence against demonstrators in Tehran and North Korea threatening to nuke Hawaii, it's reassuring to see that our Beloved Leader has his priorities in order.

Posted by Alois on

TODAY'S MUST-READ: Mitch Berg, who I hadn't visited for awhile, contrasts the Solidarity movement with the current election unrest in Iran and asks What would Reagan Obama do?

Posted by Alois on

MIDNIGHT, JUNE 1991-MAY 25, 2009: A REMEMBRANCE,
PART VII. Meanwhile, I had just closed on a house (where I had lived as a renter for several years, and was in the process of evicting Meth Mom and her son, the Thing). Everything kind of fell together; instead of initiating a series of frantic calls to the rescue that would have probably accomplished nothing, meaning that I would once again have to rely on the kindness of Klaus, I knew what I had to do.

"It's okay," I told young Kristin at the Iowa County Humane Society. "They've been through enough. I'm going to take them home with me."

"Really?" Kristin seemed astounded. "That's, like... that's beyond wonderful."

I could hear Whitney's happy bark in the back of the shelter; she had no doubt heard my voice. It occurred to me that this was the main thing I represented to these dogs: Like a cartoon character, I would always show up in the nick of time to save them from whatever plight they had found themselves in. And my heart went out to them, because these plights were never of their own doing. In point of fact they were the nicest two dogs I had ever had the pleasure to meet. It wasn't their fault that they were old, or that their former owners had lost their farm, or that they had the canine version of a happy marriage and didn't want to be apart from each other. The fact remained that they were unlikely to be adopted, and that I had a real responsibility to them that owning a house had made clear.

Kristin took me back to their kennel. Whitney yipped delightedly, and Midnight gave his usual gruff, manly acknowledgement—inclining his head toward me and sniffing at my hand. Bertha had, at least, dropped them off with their signature double leash, so I hooked them up and retired to the lobby to fill out the mountain of paperwork that would finally transfer legal ownership of Midnight and Whitney to me.

I mentioned how fortunate I'd been that Kristin had attended a couple of our rescue meetings, had remembered that I was the caseworker assigned to M&W, and then had taken the trouble to get my phone number from the rescue. If she hadn't been so proactive, God knows what might have happened to the little couple. Iowa County had become a no-kill shelter, but like all no-kills, "niceties" cannot always be attended to when placing animals. If individual adopters were located for Midnight and Whitney, my guess is that the shelter would have separated them in a heartbeat. And this is not a criticism of no-kill shelters... it's a sad fact of the larger and quite noble duty they have assumed, which is to keep healthy animals from being euthanized.

I left a donation with the shelter and took Midnight and Whitney to the vet for a checkup. They came through with flying colors.

Now I had to deal with my rather unique home situation and the two German Shepherds that were already there. Iggy had met M&W at "The Compound" while they were staying with Klaus and got along just fine with them. But Callee, who had spent her formative months in the wild just like Midnight, could not tolerate other dogs (except for the hyper-dominant Iggy, who had made it plain to her that toleration for HIM was not optional).

The cretins upstairs were still moving their stuff out. I'd have to keep Midnight and Whitney in the basement, at least until I came up with a better plan.

TO BE CONTINUED

Posted by Alois on

06/17/09:

WEDNESDAY UPDATE: Haven't been around as much as I thought I would, due to the Co-op's putting me to work following spray rigs around with a tanker full of water (actually, a great development). In fact, I've got to go to work right now.

But since it's Wednesday, here's Tera Patrick in leopardskin garb. Till next time!

Posted by Alois on

MIDNIGHT, JUNE 1991-MAY 25, 2009: A REMEMBRANCE,
PART VI. Midnight and Whitney, over the next couple of years (that's right, they were in rescue all that time) had several sojourns to the kennel in Sun Prairie. In winter and summer both, I would carefully monitor the forecasts for predicted extremes in temperature. During every stretch of subzero cold or hundred-degree heat, I would haul my butt down to Bertha's farm and pick them up. They always seemed thrilled to go (and thrilled to see your humble narrator too, if the truth be told).

The rescue, to their credit, never failed to pick up the tab for the kennel stays... even if it wasn't much. The kennel ("Drachenberg," since gone out of business) never raised their price, and they continued to treat Midnight and Whitney like visiting royalty. At one point we even came close to adopting them out to a kennel employee who was especially taken with Midnight. But as luck would have it, his girlfriend loved Whitney, but was afraid of the extremely mild-mannered "wild dog" that came with the package. End of adoption.

(Klaus: "What that guy needs is another girlfriend.")

And then there was Bertha. I suppose that after two-plus years, it was understandable that she didn't want to be "stuck" with M&W forever, and she was beginning to think that the rescue in fact had decided that she was the dogs' "new owner by default" (even if the rescue funded all their needs). Once again, it all came back to me and my knee-jerk decision to bring both dogs into rescue when we were having a hard enough time placing the purebred German Shepherds that people were forever dumping on our doorstep. I assured Bertha that we were still looking for a home for Midnight and Whitney, but in the time that had passed since they had entered rescue they had attained the ages of twelve and eleven, respectively. If our original appeal to give the "senior chums" a place to live out "their last years together" had failed, it wasn't likely that anyone would want two dogs who probably had, at best, months to live by now.

"I want these dogs out of here by the Fourth of July," Bertha told me.

"I don't know if I can do that," I said. "I've got to find another place for them." (Actually, I had been doing just that for several months already, and was almost to the point of asking Klaus to do me another "favor.")

It was July 2 when my telephone rang.

"Hi," a chirpy female voice said. "Are you Alois?"

"That would be me."

"Aren't you, like, Midnight and Whitney's caseworker?"

"Yes indeed. Are you interested in them?"

"Well, actually, they're like... here."

"Where is 'here'?" (I almost threw in a "like".)

"The Iowa County Humane Society."

Iowa County borders Dane County to the west (and, incidentally, is where Barneveld is located). I guessed that they had escaped the farm and somehow made their way out there.

"No, a lady brought them in. Bertha?"

"Oh, brother. Yes. They were being fostered on her farm."

"She said she couldn't deal with them anymore. I don't know why. They are such sweet dogs."

"Yes, they are. And she didn't have any right to dump them at a humane society." Although a part of me had always sympathized with Bertha, if she was trying to make some kind of point with me by what she had done, I certainly didn't appreciate it. She hadn't even given me until July 4.

It was time to make a decision about Midnight and Whitney. I could not put it off any longer. Ultimately, I had always understood that they were my responsibility.

TO BE CONTINUED

Posted by Alois on

IMAGE OF THE DAY: Lutheran church at Grytviken, South Georgia.

Image credit: South Georgia Website

Posted by Alois on

06/12/09:

QUOTE OF THE DAY: Thank you, Reverend Wright, for reminding us why the Torah tells us to avoid swine. — LGF poster buzzsawmonkey, commenting on the former Obamessiah advisor's latest outburst against "them Jews"

Posted by Alois on

 

WE'VE DONE THE MATH: And wouldn't you know, the probability of this happening to you is almost exactly the same as the probability of Governor Jim "Asshat" Doyle suddenly providing leadership to the beleaguered, battered people of Wisconsin.

Posted by Alois on

 

A THING OF BEAUTY... is a joy forever.

Betcha thought I was gonna get all smart-assed with that hoary old quotation too, didn't you?

Happy Wednesday on Friday! Patricia Ford models.

Posted by Alois on

 

MIDNIGHT, JUNE 1991-MAY 25, 2009: A REMEMBRANCE,
PART V. You might think I wouldn't have seen much of Midnight and Whitney once they moved to Bertha's farm... but you would be wrong.

Bear in mind that we live in Wisconsin, a state noted for its bizarre extremes of weather (Al Gore notwithstanding). Bertha kept her several rescue dogs outside at all times and had made it plain that they were not welcome in her house, which she shared with a couple of "extremely spoiled" couch-potato canids.

I visited the farm after I had learned this interesting little factoid to see what the outside dogs had in the way of shelter. It wasn't much. There was only a rundown chicken coop, completely open to the south, and a small doghouse that had already been taken over by one of the resident white shepherds. I supposed that the younger dogs could probably survive by taking advantage of the chicken coop in extreme heat or cold, but I wasn't so sure about Midnight and Whitney. They had regained much of the weight they'd lost at the humane society, but were still compromised by how close they'd come to death three months previously—and, of course, their advanced ages.

But Bertha was adamant that none of the rescue dogs could come inside the house. I wasn't in a position to complain, since she was the one doing the fostering and I couldn't come up with anything better.

Within a couple of weeks, as luck would have it, the temperature began to climb into the nineties. On a Tuesday afternoon, with the thermometer at 94 degrees and the next day's high slated to break the century mark, I knew I had to do something about Midnight and Whitney.

I phoned Bertha and asked if I could pick them up. "Why?" "Because I've got to get them out of this heat." "Oh don't worry, they'll be fine. They can go into the chicken coop for shade anytime."

You ever notice how certain people, when they try to be reassuring, have just the opposite effect? Bertha was one of those people.

I was at the farm within the hour and found the senior couple, sure enough, in the chicken coop panting heavily. They were out of the sun, but if anything the temperature in the stuffy coop was even higher than it was outdoors. They looked up groggily and seemed thrilled when they realized who their visitor was.

I loaded M&W into the back of my car and drove twenty miles north to Sun Prairie, where a nice kennel had been established on a property where we used to do dog sports.

"I need to get these two into an air-conditioned space. They're old and they've been living outside. They're rescue dogs."

The woman at the desk was smitten, especially when I explained that this was a "couple" who needed to be boarded together and not separated for any reason.

"I'm only going to charge you for one dog, since they'll only need one kennel. And I can give you a twenty percent discount for being in a rescue group."

"Well gee, that's going to cost.... almost NOTHING."

"Oh, we don't care about that. Just look at them. They're wonderful! " By now several kennel employees had come into the reception area and were fawning over Midnight and Whitney, who seemed puzzled but inclined to be pleased by their new surroundings.

TO BE CONTINUED

Posted by Alois on

 

06/08/09:

25th ANNIVERSARY: My, how time flies.

It's been 25 years since an F-5 tornado in the wee hours of the morning decimated the village of Barneveld, 25 miles west of Madison.

I was living in New York City at the time and remember thinking it odd that a story about a tornado disaster made the front page of the New York Times.

In later years I would spend some time in Barneveld and get to know quite of few of its people. A former co-worker and National Guardsman was the first responder to arrive on the scene, and an ex-girlfriend and her sister (who hailed from a nearby town) helped feed emergency workers at a soup kitchen.

A good in-depth account of the tornado, with survivor stories, can be found here.

Posted by Alois on

 

06/04/09:

MIDNIGHT, JUNE 1991-MAY 25, 2009: A REMEMBRANCE, PART IV. But finally, a slot opened up among the German Shepherd rescue foster homes (it had taken months, but they had finally accepted that Midnight and Whitney had to stay together and had given Whitney "honorary German Shepherd" status). This foster home, unfortunately, was with an unhappy young woman of a type all too common among those dedicated to dogs: The type who already knows it all, and can't be told anything.

I had explained extensively that neither dog could be trusted around cats; due to their outdoor existence on the farm and Midnight's having spent his formative months in the wild, both dogs had off-the-wall prey drive and regarded any small moving critter as FOOD. Well, a few weeks into their stay with "Carol," she decided to adopt M&W (as a pair!) to a woman near Racine who had two cats. "They all got along fine together at the meet n' greet!" Carol explained later.

The hapless woman returned from work only a day after the adoption to find one of her cats not only dead, but largely consumed (the other one was cowering high on a bathroom shelf). Carol called me in a panic. "SHE WANTS TO GIVE THEM BACK!" she sobbed. "THEY KILLED ONE OF HER CATS!"

I don't even want to tell you what I said in reply. Suffice to say that it wasn't one of my better, or more charitable, moments.

Carol begged me to drive to Racine and pick up our elderly couple, but I wouldn't do it. "You made this mess," I said. "You can clean it up."

It was fortunate that the rescue had a new member who owned a large farm south of Stoughton, because Carol wanted nothing more to do with Midnight and Whitney after the "cat murder" (Carol, as luck would have it, was also a big-league cat lover). So M&W were dispatched to Bertha's farm, where they would be sharing space with her three dogs and myriad livestock. I thought this would be a better fit for them anyway.

It was the beginning of summer. Midnight and Whitney had already been in rescue for seven months, and other than the luckless woman with the cats, no one had shown the slightest interest in adopting them. The rescue's website appealed to a "good-hearted person who can give these senior chums a place to live out their last years together." Hearts were certainly in the right place, but I had been in animal rescue long enough to know that healthy young animals with bright eyes and bushy tails and no prey drive were what everyone wanted to adopt. I was reminded several times that it had been my bright idea to introduce the pair to rescue, and it was pretty hard to argue that. I was beginning to wish that I hadn't picked up the phone in my office that November afternoon.

TO BE CONTINUED

Posted by Alois on

06/03/09:

HAPPY WEDNESDAY, FROM THA HOUSE: Fertilizer season is beginning to wind down, and I'm actually at home between routes today.

As such, somebody needs to help this lass find her lost contact. Jawohl!

Posted by Alois on

06/02/09:

THEY TELL ME THIS IS JUNE: I could just as easily have made this an "Al Gore Can Kiss My Frozen Ass" entry.

Gotta leave in a few minutes to drive the baseball team to a double-header. I guess it's not bad weather for baseball, considering that the temperature is in the lower fifties and so sweat shouldn't be an issue.

And only fourteen or fifteen weeks or so to go until our first frost!

This is what summer weather used to be like in the Canadian prairie provinces (probably developing permafrost by now). That is, until the Goracle explained to us all that the Earth is warming and my stepdaughter started being assigned school projects called "Things You Can Do To Help Fight Global Warming!"

More of the Midnight saga first chance I get. In the meantime:

Al Gore can kiss my frozen ass. Sonia "Wise Latina" Sotomayor, too.

Posted by Alois on

May 2009

05/30/09:

HEALTHCARE YOU CAN BELIEVE IN: Here's something to help you sleep better at night (that is, if your very own unicorn hasn't arrived yet, don't worry though, Captain "I wouldn't know the brink if I tripped over it" Oblivious assures me it's in the mail, he saw to it himself, right after he decided to postpone that nap on his "laurels" for saving us all from dooooooom).

If the Mass system is to be a guide for a health care plan (Teddy K says it should be) it means doctors will be paid late across the nation, and roughly 25% of all claims will be denied (i.e., the government won't pay for 25% of services actually rendered). Great system, can't wait (to wait, in line, for a doctor, or much-needed test, or surgery, or hospital bed...).

Posted by Deb on

MIDNIGHT, JUNE 1991-MAY 25, 2009: A REMEMBRANCE, PART III. But this was only the scarcest beginning of our adventures together.

To start with, there were problems with the German Shepherd rescue. Sure enough, they hadn't counted on a Labrador mix being part of the package; my insistence that the duo remain together (and my explanation that their separation had nearly cost them their lives) fell upon deaf ears. The woman who was to foster Midnight insisted that she couldn't take in another dog, especially a female, because one of her dogs didn't like female dogs. Everyone else in the rescue insisted that they, too, were "booked up." Couldn't I foster Midnight and Whitney?

That was out of the question. I lived in a rental unit, and I had very nearly been evicted when I had rescued Callee (a year-old female German Shepherd who was literally on her way to the vet's to be euthanized). If my landlord so much as suspected that another dog—to say nothing of two of them—was anywhere on his property, I was going to be packing my bags in very short order.

I tucked my tail between my legs and approached Klaus, who had already taken in your humble narrator and dog Iggy in an emergency situation just two years before. And I can't tell you what a fool I felt like, and how I almost would rather have died than ask him for another favor (but, as he would say, "Nein, für I am Klaus. You vill ask... or you vill be shot").

And of course, Klaus immediately fell in love with the two senior—Whitney was only a year younger than Midnight—"married" dogs. He, seemingly alone among the people I knew, seemed to think I had done something very good instead of something extraordinarily stupid. "I don't know why," I explained to him. "I never even thought about it. There was nothing else I could have done."

"You did the right thing," Klaus assured me, as we set up food and water dishes for Midnight and Whitney in his old apartment at the "Compound" on the northeast side of Madison near the airport, where they would be joining the resident canid Drigon (also a German Shepherd, auf course).

And so began what was, for Midnight and Whitney, a halcyon three months of eating table scraps, gaining weight, watching television on Klaus' leather couch, and doubtless trying to make sense of the ordeal that had taken them from their happy western Wisconsin farm near River Falls up by the Twin Cities, to the Dane County Humane Society where they had been split up and Midnight very nearly put to death, to a strange new existence in Madison watching Animal Planet on a leather couch with a friendly German Shepherd named Drigon, and occasionally this strange guy who had shown up out of the blue and spirited them away from the Humane Society.

TO BE CONTINUED

Posted by Alois on

SHOCKA! OBAMA "TWOFER" HIGH COURT NOMINEE FIXATED ON RACE, GENDER: Never could have seen this coming.

But it wouldn't be fair to expect Sotomayor to get over herself. The One who nominated her became President of the United States by playing the race card wisely and well. Surely Sotomayor "deserves" the honor of serving on the Supreme Court and helping to right Whitey's many wrongs.

[UPDATE 05/30/09 PM: IMAO has more!]

[UPDATE 05/30/09 PM: As does Chris Muir!]

Posted by Alois on

05/28/09:

MIDNIGHT, JUNE 1991-MAY 25, 2009: A REMEMBRANCE, PART II. "Yes," the pimply-faced, spiky-haired young caseworker told me, "she's in the back. A little Labrador mix. I can go get her if you want."

"Why were they separated, if they came in together?"

"Well, ah.... she's very adoptable. A really sweet dog. Not like, um, this one." He indicated Midnight, who I could swear was actually shivering. I wondered if he was going to die before I could get him to the car.

"Ye-e-e-e-s. Let's go get the 'little buddy.'"

It took forever for the kid to bring out Midnight's companion dog—so long, in fact, that several times I was tempted to just leave. And it had occurred to me that it might be a bit difficult to explain to the German Shepherd rescue, who was responsible for this adoption, exactly what I was doing with a Lab mix (in addition to the shivering feral-looking dog by my side, who was only a "German Shepherd" by a great leap of the imagination).

Finally the kid emerged with the little Lab mix, and an extraordinary thing happened: Midnight suddenly snapped his lead tight, straining to reach his "buddy," while she started running in circles and leaping into the air. I let Midnight go and he began to do the same thing. Suddenly everyone in the place was riveted to the spectacle, the suburban couples and ill-mannered children and overworked shelter staff alike. I had never seen anything like it before, and I never have since. The two "friends" were so overjoyed to see each other that they could not contain themselves. And it wasn't until the Lab mix (mostly black, just like a scaled-down black Lab) finally slowed down that I could see that she, too, was woefully undernourished.

"Let me guess," I said. "She's not eating either."

"Nope. But we just figured it's because she was under stress."

"Not because you separated her from Midnight."

"Well, who knows?" In the often incomprehensible calculus that goes into a shelter's decision of who will die and who will live—a decision that I, personally, would never want to be part of—the causes of such "stress" are probably often overlooked because the truth would be too painful.

"Obviously," I said, "I think I should take the 'little buddy' too. What's her name?"

"Whitney. Yes, I know she looks like she ought to be 'Midnight,' but we asked and those are their names. I guess he used to sneak into the farm around midnight."

Midnight and Whitney were so glad to see each other again that they seemed impervious to everything else going on around them, even people bringing dogs in or checking dogs out. I filled out another sheaf of paperwork and left the building with the two 'buddies.'

I'd just bought a bag of dog food that morning for the two German Shepherds I had at home, so I decided to see if I could get Midnight and Whitney interested in some chow. I poured two small piles onto the asphalt of the parking lot and they both immediately went to work, gulping down the kibble. "Gee, imagine that," I said. "Suddenly they're hungry."

TO BE CONTINUED

Posted by Alois on

05/27/09:

IT'S LATE IN MAY AND I REALLY SHOULD BE BACK AT SCHOOL: No, I haven't given up the blog. I just haven't been here.

But I have gobbled up literally thousands of miles of Wisconsin highways and backroads in buses and trucks and it looks like I've made enough money to see us through the summer, when planting season ends and the Adorable Snot-Noses are out of school.

Far be it from me, however, to bitch about too much work when so many Americans don't have enough. Or any at all. (Been there. Done that. No fun.)

But I'll have a lot more to say in days to come, as life slowly returns to "normal," about our beloved Messiah-Emperor and his entourage--among other things. For example, how 'bout that new Supreme Court nominee? (Let me put it this way: If "Reverend" Al Sharpton is fer it, any American with two functional brain cells probably ought to be agin' it.)

Anyway. It's Wednesday, and so I leave you for now with the tres-lovely Josie Maran.

Posted by Alois on

 

MIDNIGHT, JUNE 1991-MAY 25, 2009: A REMEMBRANCE, PART I. When he finally slipped away from us on Memorial Day, he was possibly the oldest dog in Dane County.

The first time I saw Midnight, back in the late fall of 2001, I was on a routine pickup trip for the local German Shepherd rescue. I'd had a call late in the day at my office asking if I could drop by the Dane County Humane Society and pick up a "Shepherd mix" who was in "pretty bad shape." He was to be euthanized the next day, so we had to move.

I thought Midnight was the saddest-looking, most pathetic creature I'd ever seen in my life.

Crouched against the far wall of the evaluation room, the dog (obviously at least as much coyote as German Shepherd) eyed me warily. My heart sank for two reasons: Wild dog crosses are notoriously unstable and no one had mentioned that this was part of the "mix"... and it was obvious that this dog was probably dying. He was nothing but skin and bones and watering eyes and dull yellowish fur.

"What's the matter with him?" I asked the Humane Society caseworker kid.

"He doesn't eat."

"Are you sure he doesn't have cancer?"

"The vets checked him out. Other than being malnourished, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with him. Oh, except that he failed his temperament test."

"How so?"

"Well, look at him. He doesn't want anything to do with anyone."

I harrumphed. The Humane Society was famous for botching temperament tests. "It looks like he's been through a hell of an ordeal. Did you pick him up in the wild?"

"No, a lady from up north brought him in. I guess he lived on her farm, and she had to move to town. That was three weeks ago."

"Listen, leave me alone with him for awhile, okay?" I was already crouching down; the kid's standing and looming over Midnight seemed to make him uncomfortable.

I sat on the floor and minimized the eye contact, acting bored and distracted. After a few minutes, Midnight wandered over and sniffed at me and allowed me to scratch under his collar. Apparently deciding that I was an okay sort, he then proceeded to lay down across my lap. A lap dog.

I couldn't really see how this dog could be adopted out, at least not in his present condition, but my heart went out to him. He seemed to look at me imploringly, and I had the sense that I was the first person he'd seen in three weeks who had given him any real attention.

"Alright, let's get the paperwork done," I told the caseworker. "Maybe we can at least get him into hospice care or something. How old is he?"

"Just turned ten."

"Yeah, this is going to be an easy adoption. Ten-year-old half-starved wild dog. Oh well. He seems like a friendly enough boy, though."

"Listen, you can just leave him here and we'll euthanize him. We just thought you guys would want to take a look."

"Never mind, I'll take him."

The suburban couples with their whining children gaped at me in amazement as I filled out the forms with this pathetic shell of a dog by my side. "Surely," their slack jaws told me, "you could have found a better dog than this."

I felt like Charlie Brown with his spindly, half-dead Christmas tree.

I was literally turning the doorknob to leave the Humane Society when the caseworker kid called out, "Hey, we have his little buddy here too. Don't suppose you'd want to take a look at her?"

"Little buddy?" I rasped.

Midnight (background) off thinking Midnight thoughts. Winter 2003-2004 on the Stoughton farm.

TO BE CONTINUED

Posted by Alois on

05/13/09:

AND, SINCE IT'S RAINING... which means I (once again) am forced to blog rather than deliver liquid fertilizer... Berrydog model Miki would like to join our S&G protest against the lack of warm weather hereabouts. Jawohl!

Posted by Alois on

 

BUDGET COMMITTEE EXPLAINS IT ALL TO OUR LEARNING-IMPAIRED GOVERNOR: Legislators Tell Doyle (D[umbass], WI) That You Can't Collect Revenue If There's No One To Collect It

And, in other news, Governor Asshat has proposed closing all Wisconsin public schools and using the money saved for a college fund for "undocumented Americans."

Just kidding.

For now.

Posted by Alois on

05/11/09:

OBAMAGIZING FÜR AMERIKKKA: The apologist-in-chief reminds the entire globe of just how much we suck.

Jesus. Who elected this cretin, and what is he doing at the helm of the free world?

Posted by Alois on

05/07/09:

EVEN IF YOU LOVE HENDRIX... and even casual readers of this blog know that I do... you've got to admit, this is messed up.

And it's not just me.

F'rinstance, One concerned “liberal hippie educator” in the district – who went unnamed for fear of retaliation – told the Chronicle, “I find the choice of Hendrix as inspiration to be used in an educational setting rather strange and out of touch.”

[Word up to that "liberal hippie educator": Shouldn't you be concerned about that "fear of retaliation" for simply going against the Canon? Hmmm?]

Goes to show how diseased the whole idea of multiculturalism has become. The revolutionary BLACK musician, Jimi Hendrix! An inspiration to children of colo(u)r (chicos y chicas de colores) everywhere!

We-l-l-l. Hendrix will always be considered revolutionary to us guitarists, and to musicians in general. But that's for his music, not his life. It's not like there's any dearth of revolutionary! black musicians who suffered from some, er, poor lifestyle choices. Bird? Coltrane? Bob Marley? Ray Charles?

The school district would be better served to find some hardworking black scientist or engineer who sets a quiet example to his children and his community than the revolutionary! doper and profligate womanizer that was Jimi Hendrix (the man).

Posted by Alois on

05/06/09:

IT'S MAY! How did that happen???

Yup, it's the month of May Day, when "socialists, communists, marxists, stalinists, maoists, anarchosyndicalists, anarchists, envirowackos, PETArds, idiotarians, and Teddy Kennedy are out breaking things and throwing liquor bottles at the police" (Sam Muldia).  And it's the month of Cinco de Mayo, when our legions of don't-wanna-fill-out-the-paperwork-that-would-be-too-inconvenient "immigrants" remind us yearly of how much we suck.

And it's the month where we in the Frozen North generally see our first 70-degree day (yup, it's actually happened), even if AlGoreBot Jr. says that it happens in February.

And it's the month where I never know which way is up because I'm driving between first light and last light nearly every day of the week.

Someone just reminded me that it's Wednesday, so while I'm dropping in I guess I might as well mention that it's also the month Anette Dawn tries mightily to ignore that scary-ass beach ball by her left foot:

Until next time!

Posted by Alois on

 

April 2009

04/30/09:

SHOE'S NOT SO COMFORTABLE ON THE OTHER FOOT, EH WOT? Kollege Kidz: Republican Nazis Laffed At Our Kumbaya Ceremony!

I'm Gonna Piss My Huggies: "'Western' is a veiled term that means 'white,'*" University of North Carolina graduate student Tyler Oakley wrote in an e-mail to FOXNews.com. "I believe that our democracy is strong enough to allow extreme forms of speech, but YWC's message is essentially a negative one, an assault on not being white or non-Western, and is therefore hateful, if not blatant hate speech."

It's hateful! And that makes me have a Frenzy, and Demand Reparations!

Don't worry, little ones. We're sure that the Anointed One's Brain Police will take care of this tiny problem right quick and in a hurry... and then you can have your Self-Esteem (TM) back.

I just hope these pathetic limp dicks don't have to fight any real Nazis... or we're all done for.

*Actually "Western" is a veiled term that means "At Least Marginally Competent" - ed.

Posted by Alois on

 

AL GORE CAN KISS MY FROZEN ASS, PART 66,222: GoreBal Warming (Inc.) has even spread its icy tentacles to the Land Down Under...

As our Canadian friend KKKate sez, "Throw a shrimp on the ski lift!"

A new Australian record was set early this morning, a temperature of minus 13 degrees, at Charlotte Pass on the Snowy Mountains.

This is the lowest temperature recorded anywhere in Australia in April and is 13 below the average. Nearby at Perisher it dipped to minus 11 degrees and at the top of Thredbo it dipped to minus 10.

Or how 'bout:

Australia's Mt. Buller is opening its ski resort to the public five weeks ahead of schedule this Saturday and Sunday, for skiing and snowboarding on the 35 cm (14 inches) of early snowfall blanketing the ski area.

“This is the earliest we’ve opened a lift and ski run in the history of Mt. Buller resort. The closest was 45 years ago when we opened on the 16th of May in 1964," said Laurie Blampied, General Manager of Buller Ski Lifts. “It’s so exciting to have such early and extensive falls so we decided to seize the opportunity, open up early for a special weekend and share it with everyone.”

It would probably be fun to invite the GoreBot to these hijinx, but we heard tell that he's shivering up in Vermont with like-minded souls, burning deadfall to stay warm (never mind the carbon footprint, as usual).

Posted by Alois on

ONE FOR THE GUYS: Wednesday on Thursday (does that mean I'm doing better?)... here's Krista Allen in B&W.

Gotta go take a bus to the shop. See ya later!

Posted by Alois on

 

ONE FOR THE GOOD GUYS: Iranian Arms Ship Destroyed Off Sudan

The article says that they don't know if an Israeli or American missile destroyed the ship (chock full of weapons intended for Hamas).

I say, who cares? Ga-a-a-a-a-a-z-o-LEEN!

 

........

Someone who does not know the difference between good and evil is worth nothing.- Miecyslaw Kasprzyk, Polish rescuer of Jews during the Holocaust, New York Times, Jan. 30, 2005

 

Wichtiger Wortschwall:

The Rant auf Klaus*, Parts I II III

Free Tibet

Why Unions Suck

Ménage-à-Trois

Mother Church

Shut Up and Make the#*&$ Widget

Perry County

Ahmed Shah Massoud

Bly, Oregon

The Day I Met The Man

Pope John Paul II, 1920-2005

The Suburbanites

Attention: This Is Not About Your Bicycle

A Performance of Their Own Ineptitude (Deb Joins S&G)

Renn-aissance

This Is No Viet Nam

Words of Mass Deception

Governor Asshat's Private Zoo

Al Gore Can Kiss My Frozen Ass (frequently updated)



Cat's Got Your Tongue?
Keeping Track of Unresponsive Liberals Since 2003

 

IMPEACH OBAMA
Payback's A Bitch!




















(Credit: Sgt. Grit

)"




(Credit: Frank J.)

Just Say No to Race-Baiting and Communism!

WWW
schmaltz.typepad.com

Our Original Blog Still Lives Here:

February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
(moved to TypePad)
See left sidebar for TypePad archives

Live from Madison, Wisconsin, USA:
The Home of the Spandex Asshat

Posted by Klaus on