Greatest Dog Of All Time

This dog looks like the dog from that “look at this awesome dog” flyer from some years back. This guy is so awesome he needs two names.

It’s possible that he’s out hunting murderers, but my money is on him being out in the field getting his exploratory committee together for the 2020 presidential race. Not Neutered, Not For Sale.

Published in: on March 30, 2017 at 11:35 am  Leave a Comment  
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Elevator pitch

Guys, guys. Moonie & Kilo’s Excellent Adventure. Moonie & Kilo’s Day Off. Moonie & Kilo: The Odyssey Begins. Moonie & Kilo: An Affair To Remember.


It’s gotta be better than Dunston Checks In
Published in: on March 7, 2017 at 7:41 pm  Leave a Comment  
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a/k/a Speck, Spot, Patch

I re-named one of my Neko Atsume cats “Smudge”


and now I’m not sure why. He doesn’t have a smudge on him. Now this


is a Smudge. I can tell why he has that name even without the helpful arrow.

Published in: on December 27, 2016 at 11:46 am  Leave a Comment  
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Answer me

It’s not as prevalent as it used to be, but there’s a thing in pop culture called the answer song. An answer song, usually recorded by another artist, is a response to a previously recorded song. “Southern Man” is followed by “Sweet Home Alabama.” “Work With Me, Annie” is answered by “Roll With Me, Henry,” which is ultimately answered by “Annie Had A Baby.” If you want to get dark, there’s always the song “Little Blossom” (a song from the point of view of a neglected child who eventually gets killed by her drunken father) and the ensuing, if unimaginatively titled, “Answer to Little Blossom” (sung by the father who is now in prison and expecting to get the death sentence).

The song “Boy Named Sue” already has a kind of weird and terrible answer song (look it up; I’m not linking it here), but I think I found a better one, lost pet notice-style. Friends, meet a bitch named Richard:


“Bitch” using the classic definition, of course. I’m sure she’s a very sweet pup.

No shit

(erases joke about cat being pursued by the hound of the Baskervilles)
(erases joke about cat being found at 221B Baker Street)
(erases joke about cat going to score some blow)
(gives up)


Published in: on September 22, 2016 at 4:46 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woof?

I know this notice has a lot of info like “notched right ear,” “timid,” “sweet”… but all I saw was the dark hair and the phrases “pleasantly plump” and “can appear to be feral.”


And now I can’t help thinking Elizabeth Taylor is running loose in the neighborhood.

Go home and get some sleep, Agatha. Your games are upsetting everyone.

Positive body image

My friend Taylor shared this gem of a flyer with me recently. It’s almost like an old riot grrrl poem.

“… answers to ‘KHAN’ and ‘FATTY GIRL.” “Hates dogs and being called ‘Fatty Girl’.”


Oh, Khan. Your owners are just teasing you. They also say you are voluptuous and sweet. Maybe you’re not a riot grrrl. With your orange and white coloring, you sound like the feline version of ’60s pin-up Hilda:


Embrace those curves! I’m sure they have lots of Trader Joe’s Tuna For Cats waiting for you at home.

Hilda image via

Our life is frittered away by detail

Either the details on this flyer are complete conjecture, or the owners got this information from somebody.


And if they got this information from somebody, I would be awfully suspicious of that somebody. “Yes, I saw your cats being abducted. I followed the catnappers, and they drove the cats 2 1/2 miles away. Francesca the cat was killed by a car one block away from the dropping off point two days later.” These are weird details, and a lot of them, and either somebody is making this up or somebody is much too close to the situation.

For a while I was thinking that maybe Francesca’s chip could have provided that information, but if it had, couldn’t Juniper’s chip be providing information about her whereabouts right now? This is one of the most confusing lost pet notices I’ve ever seen. I sure hope someone finds Juniper and we can all go back to a life of simplicity.

Look in the land of the Hyperboreans

After finding this lost dog notice

I started reading about the Labors of Hercules and am now very grateful that I was not born a demi-god bastard in ancient Greece*. You should be too. If you had, your stepmom would have driven you insane – like kill your wife and kids and best friend insane – and then you’d have to do stuff like chase a deer around the world for a year and repair clothes while in drag and clean up 30 years’ worth of cow poop, just so everybody knew you felt really bad about what you’d done when you were insane. And all this because your dad tricked your real mom into having sex with him by pretending to be her husband.

Maybe this Hercules isn’t having such a tough time of it, though. Maybe he’s simply playing with Orthrus and Cerberus and wondering what it would be like to have more than one head.  Don’t worry, owners of Hercules; I’m sure he’ll be back before too long. There are no dog treats in Hades.

*Yes, I know; Heracles is the greek name. Just let me have “Hercules” here, will you?

Here, girl! (crickets)

Driving the Pacheco Pass last week, Benny and I came across this sign for Cricket:


Cricket, what are you doing out there on your own? Are you hunting for dinosaur bones at Dinosaur Point? There aren’t actually any dinosaur bones there.


I hope you came home for Christmas.

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