Into Dust…

22 Nov

On the baseball pages I wrote of a story my father told me in answer to the whereabouts of a serial troll known as “dirtyharry”. Father might have made it up to illustrate a point but I think not. I think its true. It goes like this…

Growing up poor in Louisiana he had a neighbor across the lake. A repellent man, an old time racist and serial beater of wives. This man hated his other neighbor with who he shared a fence. That neighbor was an age mate and a black fellow. Father did not elaborate much on if the black fellow was of any account. Anyhow these two feuded for decades. Dogs shot, cars burnt, fist fights and so on. One day the black fellow dropped dead from a heart attack. After the family had left, father, who worked as a grave digger in those days, noticed the old racist was standing there at the grave side, crying. Father asked him what he was doing there since it was well known that the two loathed one another. The old racist replied that the only person in the world that gave a damn for him was now dead.

I wonder if such people really exist? Polar opposites who in some weird way need each other? Indeed, may love each other. My thoughts are dark with this but I cannot see that this is bad or in any way a wrong. It has been my experience that some people are damaged by life. Irreparably so. All they have is that darkness to view the world through. As a way of insulating themselves they attack that which shows their weakness. For such a person, hating is the same as loving.

Of course I am a nearsighted pressed pork. What do I know?


A Thing For Music

21 Nov

I enjoy music. I have not shred of talent my self but I enjoy it others. Lately I have strayed from the more upbeat, bass heavy themes I enjoyed for years. I do not know what has happened but my music tastes the past few months have drifted.  I heard this song by Bon Iver. Holocene.  I couldn’t seem to shake the tune. I listened to it on you tube. Stunning. I was moved to look into other music like this. I found Panoramic by Atticus Ross. Unbelievable. Then Alien by Bush. From there I found myself listening to Mazzy Star’s brilliant Fade Into You. Massive Attack’s Teardrop. A Real Hero by College & Electric Youth. Red by Treble Charger. Greasy jungle by The Tragically Hip. The incredible Nautical Disaster, also by The Tragically Hip. Glycerine also by Bush. Pear Jam’s Black. On and on like this.

I fear depression my be gaining a hold of me again. I do not feel dark. Not at all. In fact I can seldom recall to looking forward to things more. But, nevertheless I feel my self slipping into this music that seems so melancholy. Fade Into You…Teardrop…they sound so depressing. Panoramic especially. All music, not a word spoken. The french horn in this piece is stunning…and sad. Holocene sounds like a lament. May be time to go to a live concert. Something lively. No angst. It is funny but I seem to enjoy the angst in music but care not a bit for it in movies or drama.

Dogs on HBT: Mark Buehrle’s “Pit Bull”.

15 Nov

Quite an interesting article on the baseball pages about Mark Buehrle’s dog, a “pit bull”. Some of the comments reveal great knowledge and great passion for dogs. Others little more than blanket ignorance. Dogs are individual characters I think, but I am hardly an expert. Generalizations about breeds serve little but to fuel the ignorant. Many in the comments section discussed injuries from “pit bulls”. I can see why. Damage from such dogs is rarely minor. On a child I suspect they are often life ending and probably always life changing. A casual survey of the internet reveals the common theme that these breeds seem to neither nip nor slash. They bite, hold on, work their jaws side to side and only re-bite after they drop a mouthful of removed flesh. How horrifying.

I know that if my dog, Stooge, attacked someone the damage would be awful. I doubt even a large man in body armor would stand a chance against him. The thought of this terrifies me. I think often of the meter lady whom he had accosted and was licking. If he harbored aggression he could have killed her and easily. Early in life he made very real attempts to get at male dogs that showed him aggression. Now he lives in a fenced yard with a back up of a wireless radio fence that signals him with an audible tone then a shock if he persist in going beyond the property. We do not walk, even with him on a leash, without a training radio collar on him either. It is not that he is aggressive but that he does not tolerate aggression. At all. When he wants to do something that I do not want him to do, I have to be prepared to stop him. He can be hard to stop.

The biggest mistake people will make around him is to become excited. I rarely raise my voice anyways but I never do with Stooge. I try to give the outward appearance of calm at all times. If someone is getting really nervous around him I start laughing. The sound of my happiness always makes him happy. Once he gets into a good mood it is nearly impossible to get him out of it. He achieves a state and stays in it for a long time. The down side is that if he grows angry he can be very hard to calm. As he has grown older, his tendency to respond to the noisy yaps of small dogs who think their sweet matron owners will always save them, has lessened. I am now fairly certain that he would not kill a small pesky dog (and even German Shepherds are small next to him). Even so, why take a chance? Why would anyone take a chance? If I am wrong about Stooge, the most I have done is spent a large amount of money and expended a lot of worry. If I am right? Well, I hope to never find out that I was right.

Stooge looking worried

13 Nov

I was on the Colbert Report last night. I was knife and forked by Colbert and Jon Stewart. Actually, Stewart refused to touch me. He said that I am not kosher. Then I was fed to a mangy dog. Quite a good TV moment for a canned ham, even a near sighted one. My dog, Republican Stooge, wants to out for a walk. Actually, he walks, I am dragged. He does not seem to mind having a Canned Ham around. So long as I am quick with the kibble I am safe I guess. Here he is standing and staring at me right now. The expression on his ugly mug is the same one he uses when I get upset. It seems to say “do not worry, amigo. It will get be ok. Scratch my ears and you will see.”

Stooge looking worried

I imagine that if he could talk he would sound just like Tommy Chong. He is such a calm, committed pacifist I am certain that he smokes mountains of dope when I am not watching.

My Dog, Republican Stooge

12 Nov

If anyone is interested in a nearsighted pressed pork product, I shall include a bit more information about myself. I have a dog. That is him sleeping

He is a Dogo Argentino. His name is Republican Stooge. I call him Pub, Stooge, Repo, or “get off my leg, asshole!” He is about 120 pounds and can shit his weight in a week. He is loyal, fun loving, and gentle. Once the meter lady came into his yard unexpectedly. I found him  lying on her, holding her down with his front legs, cleaning every speck of makeup off her face and neck. The meter lady said it was her fault. She had seen the sign but after meeting Stooge at the gate figured he was friendly and would not hurt her. She was right. He just waited till she was well into the yard, jumped up on her shoulders, pressed on her till she was sitting then climbed on her and started smooching her make up off. He seems to really like women. In fact he seems to like most humans. He despises other male dogs though. Were it not for a radio collar I suspect he would have killed every other male dog, neutered or not, in a 4 mile radius. He has grown into a formidable looking beast from the all-paws puppy I brought home from the pound. From the beginning I knew he was a character. It is said that a picture is a thousand words. See the next one…

He’s stolen my sock and fell asleep after half killing it.

He is only about half grown here, but he already fills the couch. I was a sock down after this episode. He does learn though. Now he only chews approved toys.

Why the ham…

12 Nov

Well why not. This is the off season and I grow easily bored. To that end I have elected to change my username and commenter name and try to stretch a little as a blog commenter. Among the many things I like about baseball is the way the sport creeps into all parts of life. In this case then I am trying to hit from the other side of the plate as a commenter. In essence, do what The Daily Show does. Field a smart mouth comedy guy for the liberal bias and an Über-Geek intellectual narcissist as conservative bias, while at the same time shilling for neither. Once, when I watched television, I was struck by how each of the characters on Seinfeld if aggregated into one super character would make up about one average person. And so I believe of Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. So I am going to give this a try. But I am not telling anyone who I am usually. It will be a game, to while away the long winter months. In the meantime, my canned ham visage will go forth to do God’s Own Work and for once the name “Karl Rover” will inspire a smile, one hopes. Rove Me All Night Long