Hmmm… Since Monday’s a holiday (happy Columbus day everyone), no mail, no Netflix. No matter, I do have a film to review for Wednesday’s Midnight Movie Madness. Woof!
Meanwhile: the postman always shoots twice.
Monday is Columbus Day
Woof! Baa! Wow!
A friend of the blog (aoeu) posted this elsewhere. I’m grateful. I saw this and was amazed. Yes, it’s a bit funny, but when you think about the sheer talent that went into making this video, it’s more than funny. It’s amazing. The coordination between the dogs and their handlers is incredible.
Dance hall days
One of our favorite TV programs here, and to be honest I can count them on one hand, is Classic Arts Showcase. This is a really varied and quality selection of music and dance programs, for the most part, in segments of maybe 3 minutes to the occasional bit of 20 minutes, well worth looking into.
Maybe because I have two left feet, I really enjoy the dance segments. Particularly the Paso Doble, Fandango, and oh yes, Flamenco. Thankfully, I also have three laser pointers.
Better yet, Tito loves chasing the red dot across the floor (hardwood floor, no less, as in a dance studio).
Butt up in the air, hunched forward, he chases the elusive dot by slapping his forelegs down on it, as fast as any dancer I’ve seen. Pour a glass of Sangria, turn the pointer on and watch the spectacle begin. He even taught Kitsy-Mazuzu how to do it, except I don’t think the pupil’s very apt: way too violent. He’s got the moves, but he doesn’t “dance” so much as try to “obliterate” the dot.
Oh but, with TWO pointers going, we have quite a performance going. With the occasional collision, naturally… Which of course is followed by Mazuzu exclaiming “HMWAH!!!” loudly. If I read Tito’s expression correctly, I believe we agree the naked brute doesn’t get the spirit of the dance.
Once again, from the top, then!
“welcome to the jungle”
Okay, so it can go either way with Kitsune a.k.a Mazuzu Whang: tuna will either make him sleepy, or turn him into a crack monster.
After feeding him maybe a spoonful in hopes of calming him down and going back to sleep, nature called and I had to get up again.
Outside the bathroom, something sat in a crouch, waiting for poor, unsuspecting me in the doorway: the hunched back, the basket ball sized eyes, the ears, big enough to outfit the Mayflower.
Right: Mazuzu Whang, the Benjamin Button of catdom.
The unsettling part? He was making this weird clacking sound he usually makes when staring at birds, like the Predator.
Klak-klak-klak-klak!
After maybe half a minute, he trotted away back to bed. Neither rhyme nor reason.
You gotta respect something about a tenth your size, standing in your way and looking up at you as though it could just as soon kill you. Christ, even Schwarzenegger might have to check his drawers…
A bit of poetry
THE LUGUBRIOUS WHING-WHANG
by
James Whitcomb Riley 1849-1916
The rhyme o’ The Raggedy Man’s ‘at’s best
Is Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs,–
‘Cause that-un’s the strangest of all o’ the rest,
An’ the worst to learn, an’ the last one guessed,
An’ the funniest one, an’ the foolishest.–
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!I don’t know what in the world it means–
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!–
An’ nen when I _tell_ him I don’t, he leans
Like he was a-grindin’ on some machines
An’ says: Ef I _don’t_, w’y, I don’t know _beans!_
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!–Out on the margin of Moonshine Land,
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
Out where the Whing-Whang loves to stand,
Writing his name with his tail in the sand,
And swiping it out with his oogerish hand;
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!Is it the gibber of Gungs or Keeks?
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
Or what _is_ the sound that the Whing-Whang seeks?–
Crouching low by the winding creeks
And holding his breath for weeks and weeks!
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!Aroint him the wraithest of wraithly things!
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
‘Tis a fair Whing-Whangess, with phosphor rings
And bridal-jewels of fangs and stings;
And she sits and as sadly and softly sings
As the mildewed whir of her own dead wings,–
Tickle me, Dear,
Tickle me here,
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
This poem is part of the public domain, thus, there is no copyright infringement.