Guard (ian) Dog.

Rexxie

My theory about dogs.  [by Ann(other) Elk].

Ahem ahem.  This is my theory about dogs.  Ahem  This is a theory about dogs, and it is mine.  This theory about dogs is my theory.  Ahem ahem.  Dogs… a theory about them, and it is mine.  Ahem.

And if you have no blinking idea what that was all about, then you clearly have not watched enough (Monty) Python…. and are to be severely reprimanded.

Ahem…  OK, I’m going to stop now… but it’s so much fun, I don’t really want to.

I have a theory about dogs… it goes like this. (Ahem…OK I’M REALLY STOPPING NOW).

Dogs are guardian angels.  Ok, well, no they’re not “angels” in the way we think of angels, ie: humans with wings, any fool can see that.  But, I think that dogs are, spiritually-speaking, guardians of some sort.  Spurious you think ?  Maybe.  But I’m working this theory through as I’m writing.  So we might go a bit all over the place.  “Come on Pluto, it’ll be fun”… *white gloved mouse-hand waves us on*.

I have met quite a few people who have told me that “the only thing which got me through” was my dog.  I’ve seen people ‘hold it all together’ because of their dogs.

In fact, this is an example of the old “I have a friend who has a problem…”

I need to admit, that there have been times in the last several years, where I believe that “the only thing which got me through” was my dog.  Rex.  My guardian angel.  Aside from my love for him, his love for me, the joy and humour he brings to my life, my sense of complete responsibility for him, and his reliance upon me staying sane… I’m not sure I would have bothered any more (staying sane I mean).

Dogs are often “passive” angels, if you will.  They don’t actively do anything to assist in the “getting through”, other than just be there (unless of course, your dog happens to be Lassie).  But what they do do, is give love.

Is that all??  I’m being deeply sarcastic.

Dogs give love, and devotion, and acceptance, and affection…. entertainment, humour, sweetness of temper, and maybe… just maybe, understanding (in the sense that one’s dog knows when one is in emotional pain).

Ha !!!  IS THAT ALL !!!

Dogs stick by you when you look like shit, when you feel like shit, when you want to curl up in a ball and say “Bugger off world, I hate you and everything you contain”… (except my dog)

I love this quote.  It’s the ultimate aspiration…

“Please God, help me to be the person my dog thinks I am”.

(I apologise for the lack of attribution, I trawled, but couldn’t find the original coiner of this quote).

And this one, I’ve only just discovered… “I loathe people who keep dogs. They are cowards who haven’t got the guts to bite people themselves.” – August Strindberg

Next week, my lovelies, don’t come the raw prawn with me mate !

rooshkie. x.

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Dropped The Bal…

What happened to Sydney?  In the 12 years I’ve been away – something occurred.  A big fat paradigm shift.  Before leaving the UK to return to sensational Sydney, I caught the germane episode (and that has nothing whatsoever to do with Mz Greer …boom tish!) of Michael Palin’s “Greatest Cities in the World”, in which, he purported that Sydney is the 10th most expensive place in the world the buy property – and get this – 10 years ago, it wasn’t even in the Top 100 !  That’s an elevator ride to Real Estate Super Stardom!  And Sydney deserves this.  It is a stunningly magnificent place to live.

Buuuuuut – you knew there’d be a but – WTF is going on with what I’m choosing to call the Sydney-isation – that is a compound word from (obv) Sydney and Sanitisation … Ok maybe that didn’t really work … It could have been a lot more cleverer.  However, I don’t mean the plumbing; nor do I mean the streets of The city – they don’t look much cleaner to me, but the “lifestyles”.  It’s all become so squeaky clean in some parts.

Balmoral Beach was my “hang”, when I was in my 20’s.  I lived on the Northside for 20 years, quite a few of those in Cremorne and Mosman.  It’s a great part of Sydney, but go to Balmoral Beach nowadays, and you’ll find they’ve dropped the Bal.  No, that’s not “Ball”, but “Bal”, i.e.:  You’ll find yourself in Moral Beach (far away in time).

There’s a BIG sign (it had to be big), absolutely rammed with DON’T’s.  Red circles with diagonal lines.  Don’t, Don’t, Don’t.  Well, that’s like a red circle to a bull for me.

So the sign, Red circle red line – NO bikes. Red circle red line – NO skateboards. Red circle red line – NO talking too loudly. Red circle red line – NO congregating in groups of more than one.  Red circle red line – NO reds under the bed… what was the other one, oh yes; Red circle red line – NO BALLS!  YES, my point EXACTLY.

This is the only place in the world (I think, so far) that has managed to ban smoking outdoors!!  The sign doesn’t say you’ll be arrested and then hanged, drawn and quartered, but it does ask you to “respect” this desire of the local council for you not to smoke… did I mention it’s OUTDOORS… on a beach, and an esplanade, and a park.

There’s one space left on the BIG BIG sign, and that is just begging to be filled with a big Red circle, and a big diagonal red line, and behind it shrinking prohibitively, the letters eff you enn… FUN, NO FUN, don’t you dare have any fun.

Do not do anything natural or spontaneous, don’t you even think of doing ANYTHING without checking first on The Big Board to see if it’s interdit (Mais bien sur).  Don’t you dare laugh too loudly or say the word f**k …. oh f**k, sorry big sign, I said f**k… again … three times…  outdoors … in Mosman …. I am definitely going to Hell now !

OK, I’m being a bit naughty…. I actually LOVE Balmoral… it’s one of my favourite places in the world… regardless of this signage silliness… AND I saw a woman smoking… on the esplanade (shock horror)  … excellent… then I overheard a bit of her conversation…

She was French… Mais Bien Sur !!!  Naturellement.  Vive La France !!!  Vive La Liberte !

Next week my lovelies, I know there’s such a thing as an angel fish, but is there an angel dog???

rooshkie. x.

Image from Dreamstime.com

Diss-Clay-Mer…

So you know when you get a hunk of wet clay, and you go to make a pot (just go with me a bit please… thank you!!).  There are several things you could do.  You might, a) make exactly what you want, b) make a present for someone else, or c) make a pot that you consider to be commercially marketable, but that you wouldn’t have in your own home.

Writing is also a craft, and all of these permutations can occur when writing a piece.

However, I’m just not very good at pandering to what others might want to hear… So the upshot is that I pretty much say what I want.

If anything I write in these.. um… writings is upsetting or offensive or simply not accurate, then tough bananas (to use an extremely growed up expression).  It is either my “opinion” – and therefore carries about as much or as little weight as anyone is prepared to give it, or it may be some gleaned “fact”.

Some of the “facts” may be distorted or exaggerated for comic or other purposes.  I take absolutely no responsibility for:-

  1. Misquoting
  2. Bastardising
  3. Blowing things out of all proportion
  4. Being wrong
  5. Giving offence
  6. Being crass
  7. Using expletives – sometimes I’ll asterisk* the bad ones if I remember, I seriously don’t want to offend anyone who doesn’t like swearing… although I love it and use it abundantly.  (*boy, do I have trouble with that word, I ALWAYS  type Asterix – ie: the cartoon character, created and written by Rene Goscinny and illustrated by Albert Uderzo, who I love).  (I love Asterix, not Albert… clear now?).  (No offence to Albert).

This disclaiming harks me back back to a scenario that gave me great pleasure. It was the scandal surrounding a US State Attorney General “misspeaking” about his military service.  That was the first time I’d heard a politician use the word “misspeak”; I’ve heard it many times since.

This made me laugh and laugh.  Watching the TV news, yelling at the screen, “Whaddayamean you misspoke?  No you didn’t, you lied.”

To misspeak is when you say something incorrectly.  For example, if I meant to say my dog is a Jack Russell, but I in fact say, my dog is a Russell Jack, then I have misspoken.  I have made a mistake in my speaking, but not deliberately altered the facts in order to gain anything.

Imagine the congressional aide who came up with that one. (please use your best  Mid -West, dueling banjos, ‘Deliverance’ accent)…

 ‘Mr Congressman, I’ve found a way to get us out of this Veterans thing’.

‘Tell me Johnny, what do we do?’

‘You just say that you misspoke.’

‘Misspoke, is that a word Johnny?   Do ya really think it will work Johnny?’

‘I surely do sir!!’

Suddenly all and sundry are replacing the word lie, with the word misspoke.  They’re lovin’ it.  Johnny has been awarded the Verbal Purple Heart for saving politicians arses.

 So, my original point, if I “misspeak” at all, then I heartily apologise in anticipation, but do not retract.  Suck it up.

Next week my lovelies, dropped the bal ?

rooshkie  x

Thanks to www.stockfreeimages.com