Hog Wash

Our dogs smell worse than ever.

I have my suspicions.

That pig.

I haven't posted about the pig in a while because, well, til this week he'd been keeping to himself. I hadn't seen him since Ivan and Charlie and Francis and Ivan and Jeanne, or something like that. I half wondered if they'd sent him to a safehouse (or not-so-safehouse--get it, like a slaughterhouse, get it!?) due to all the flooding and the growing disrepair of their fence.

But no. He's still hanging in. Or out as the case may be.

But he's not putting up with much anymore. In fact, I have a feeling that Stupid Boxer, the error of a dog who shares a yard with Pig, is on borrowed time.

Pig doesn't wait anymore for Stupid Boxer to leap and bark and leap and bark at Pig's loins. No, now Pig chases Stupid Boxer around the yard, and I mean CHASES.

If you've never been around pigs, well, say, like me, and if you've had the good fortune not to have a neighbor harboring a pig against code regulations, well, say, like I do, then you can't imagine how fast these suckers move.

Pig runs like a jaguar. What's up with that. He leaps forward. He covers the length of his body in one leap. And, unfortunately, Stupid Boxer is wiley enough to out maneuver him.

So far.

I find myself rooting (ha!) for pig these days. I want him to catch Stupid Boxer. I want him to shake that idiot dog and toss her over the fence, preferably not our fence, and then I want pig to bash through the stockade fence, preferably not into our yard, and have a good old fashioned rampage through the neighborhood, preferably the street behind ours.

Go pig, Go! Yes!

But so far, it's not like that. It's just another day of dog harassing pig and pig harassing dog, and with all of the flooding, it seems that pig's "pig stuff" has washed into our yard, and I think that's why our dogs smell worse than ever.

Can a girl catch a break?

Brokaw and the Blaargrrrrs

No one can slur the word bloggers like Tom Brokaw.

I watched him after the debate last night as he checked in on the pulse of America by talking to two bloggers: some Cox woman I guess I should know, and some dude who also pretended to have this pulse thing going on. They needed no credentials. Apparently for mainstream media now, that you say you are a blogger is good enough.

Apparently these two folks are popluar political bloggers that I should be ashamed never to have heard of. Since I have little respect for political bloggers -- nothing personal you mob of matt drudge wannabe opportunists -- I watched Brokaw's discussion with them out of idle curiosity.

The way "blarrgrrrs" were represented was fascinating to me. The woman (she looked 19) blaagrrr was on my left, the guy (he looked 22) blaagrrr on my right. Each of them was stationed behind what I now understand is the blogger uniform of the political season: The backside of an open laptop screen.

If you don't have one, GET ONE. It is now required. Especially if you have eyes to be a poliblogger on TV one day. If you opt to sit behind a PC -- a desktop model?! -- you have no right to call yourself a blogger. Do not pass go. Do not post.

Since the lid of an open laptop is your only credential, I advise you to choose wisely. Something in stylistic aluminum or flight-case silver is the way to go. The female poliblogger had silver. I think the guy had slate grey.

His mistake. She ate him for lunch. Her stylish laptop lid made her seem bold and opinionated. Everyone likes that in a poliblogger.

My fellow bloggers, for three minutes last night, and frightning minutes they were, as I watched the 20-something polipundits of blaggrrring take center stage with Tom Brokaw, I wished I were a politician instead.

I think I need a vacation.

You send me, I'll blog it.

Debate Thought 2

I read somewhere that the debate was like watching Dennis the Menace and Mr. Wilson. I liked that. We need a little Dennis around here.

Why's blogger so damn slow?

See, you get shareholders and all of a sudden your tool's as slow as molassas.

debate thought 1

Media Training folks, please tell John Edwards not to do the "emphasis with the clutched hand, thumb on top" move. Bill Clinton trademarked it in the Lewinsky days: I Did Not Have Sexual Relations with That Woman(TM).