No Dog Will Run My Life the commune's Rok Finger knows you're silently envying his flag collection
Tuesday, Jan. 16, 2001
Uproar has swept over me, good
people. You want to know why? You want to know WHY? I cant
hear you! Thats better.
This morning, my good wife of
thirty years, Arvelyn, suggested maybe its time we possibly
consider getting a dog if thats okay with me. Why, I was
truncheoned! How dare she bring a new family member into our
little fold without consulting me!
Sure, weve had discussions
like this before: parakeets, goldfish, rats that dont live
in the walls. There was one time Arvelyn was pretty adamant about
getting a cock, and I never thought Id wear her down. But
eventually logic prevailed and with the price of a chicken coop
and feed continually skyrocketing, she realized it was just a
fantasy.
And now this dog thing rears its
ugly cold-nosed head. From the sheer force of her
wordsI think Id like a dog,
Rokwell,I dont think shell be swayed. It
may even be pointless trying. But even if we end up getting the
dog, I dont like the way shes carried out this
campaign of propaganda and brute force.
In the past weve sat down at
the family table for these sort of discussionsI in my great
big chair, Arvelyn in her slightly smaller chair, Makeshift, our
cat, in his tiny chair thats just right. And weve
talked about this like adults, at least Arvelyn and I have,
Makeshift sometimes just licks his butt in quiet dissention. But
these rough and tumble guerrilla tactics dont sit very well
on the head of Rokwell T. Finger.
I dread the thought of it now:
playing fetch, drinking out of the toilet, dropping feces left
and rightall of that will have to stop once I assume the
responsibility of dog ownership. Not to mention the miniature
birthday parties with the dog wearing a tiny tux and I have to
eat whatever kind of cake he chooses, even if its chocolate
swirl or marbleI will not have it, good people.
AgainI. Will. Not. Have. It.
I think in the meantime I will put
an ad in the paper, to stall Arvelyns dog search. She will
be convinced Im all for it, but the ad will have such high
expectations that no dog could possibly live up to it. A sample
would read:
WANTED: Empowered,
professional-minded canine with own dish. Must be able to fetch,
cartwheel, drive large-engine truck, shake, converse at length on
the works of Victor Hugo, proficient in MS Word, Excel, Lotus,
Quark X-Press. Starting salary of belly-scratchin and
Kibbles N Bits N Bits N Bits.
Must read ad and respond in person. No Schitzus.
Ha! Id like to see the dog who could fit that bill.
And if one does give us a call God help us all.
Milestones
the commune's scratch 'n sniff look at last year's office potluck
Opportunities
Pants a Capitalist
Free Virus Baggies
Take a Kitten, Please
the commune book selections
the commune's Bear in Rearview
the commune's Big Book of Duke
Faces of the commune
the commune 100: Leaders and Revolutionaries
the commune 100: Traitors and Noodledicks
FAQ Shwartz |
Site Map's Somewhere in the Glovebox |
Search In Vain |
Contract Ick
Privacy Police |
Terms of Gary Busey |
Reprints & Persimmons |
Press Eject Now
Doin' Fine
I must say with one-cup astonishment, two cups of mistrust, I’m doing perfectly well this week.
God Owes Me BIG TIME
Look at my face! Now you know damn well somebody owes me something for that, people.
Nabisco Loves Me
It was I who played a part in the efforts to make Cheez-Its the world's #1-selling brand cheese cracker.
Generation-X-O-Cide
Some may feel intimidated and back down from the pierced and tatooed larvae that pass for young people these days, but not yours truly. Nor will I.