More Volatile Observations (republished in honor of Michael Vick)

his afternoon, the first day of 2011, I logged onter facebook an' saw that GRIT's wayfarin' stranger Mike Dill done joined some sorter anti-Michael Vick fan club.  It reminded me of this here blog I done perpetrated way back on September 29, 2009 about a relevant subject (an' some other backwards fur rubbers).  So's all the power ter Finger Lickin' Pickin' Mike Dill an' here's a coughed up furball from a year an' a half ago...

Sep 29, 2009

Some More Volatile Observations

Current mood:cranky

“… one of the 18 dogs was missing half of a jaw and another suffered from about 70 open wounds. Still another had scar tissue covering about 75% of its body. At least 13 of the 18 animals were injured.  I had been to a number of murder scenes, but I was appalled." 

- David Hoovler, Federal Prosecutor

"You've got to have a pretty violent streak in you to sit and watch man's best friend rip another one to shreds so someone can make money.”....

- Sandy Christiansen, President of the Spartanburg (S.C.) Humane Society

So’s the other night… last Wednesday, actually, ter be exact, the Stringmeister an’ Mike Dill an’ our pard Ed done met up ter aurally terrorize the denizens of the local Starbucks.  Gotter make yer decisive attacks where ya kin manage these days, eh?

Wells, Stringmeister Aaron an’ I been bringin’ the dogs out fer the occasion lately since they’s don’t get enuff outside time as it is.  Aaron’s new puppy, Goldie, an’ my ‘tarded terrier mix, Rebel, done spend the time rollickin’ an’ rollin’ at leash’s length under our feet whiles we make some music throughout the evenin’.  S’good fer them.

Anyhow, as this here evenin’ wound down ter an end (which included gettin’ egged by a passin’ car, which is another story altergether, but it duz figger rightly that outter four people sittin’ there it’d be the accordion player done gets egged) an’ ever’body ‘cept the Stringmeister an’ I had faded off inter the night, there were some bro-type folks done sat down at the table next ter us.  You know bros.  They’s the white folks who’d like ter partake of black culture as it has developed in these here Americas, but is just too redneck at heart ter truly go all the way.  So’s they have found a precarious middleground where they’s kin kinder ride the fence ‘tween dirt-bikin’ an’ hip-hoppin’.  Them folks who’s consumed with bein’ Famous “Family” an’ wearin’ low backwards baseball caps an’ are always talkin’ ‘bout hittin’ “the dunes, dude”.

So these fellers done sit down at the table ‘side us an’ one of them is immediately innerested in Aaron’s pooch.  Now, Goldie is an Alapaha American Bulldog, but this feller seems ter think it’s a bull terrier of some sort an’ he’s all scratchin’ her behind the ears proclaimin’ “What a beautiful dog you are.  Oh, what a cute dog you are!  What a good lookin’ dog you are!  Oh oh!”

He’s right surprised when he finds out it ain’t no bull terrier, but he finishes pattin’ her an’ then goes an’ sits back down with his pards.  ‘Bout that time, a local feller goes walkin’ by with his dog on a leash an’ Goldie starts ter get right uptight an’ is exhibitin’ some bad behavior by strainin’ on the leash an’ barkin’ an’ snarlin’ at the passin’ dog.

Well, as Aaron is strugglin’ ter get Goldie ter behave, I overhear these fellers next ter us laughin’ an’ jokin’ an’ the one who wuz scratchin’ her just a few moments earlier, he done makes some crack ‘bout the frustrating dog interaction: “Man, I’d pay good money fer this!”

Pay good money fer what?  Ter see two dogs rip each other ter shreds fer the fulfillment of some tweaked masculine-ish entertainment?  What the Hell?  Don’t people ever think ‘bout that kinder stuff?  Would Goldie be even more beautiful, an’ cute, an’ good lookin’ ter this feller once she wuz torn up, mutilated, an’ bleedin’ in some dog-fightin’ pit somewheres?  Or worse yet, were his fondness fer the dog not rooted in an appreciation fer her elegance as a dog itself, but rather fer the imagined violence it could endure an’ dole out in a confrontation with some other dog?

What kinder people even IMAGINE that such a thing could be entertainin’, much less tolerable.  Where’s the humanity?  Is a dog simply a feeling-less plaything fer us ter pawn off fer our own cruel an’ violent (not ter mention detestable) amusements?

Alright, so’s I hope you see my point ‘bout the dog bit.  Unfortunately, however, the past week ain’t been without more aggravated observations on my part. 

This mornin’ I were sittin’ in Denny’s before I headed off ter work, watchin’ that silly closed circuit Denny’s television that done seemed ter pop up in all their locations overnight.  And there’s this Cold Play video playin’.  Well, in this here video the band members is all represented by these performin’ marionette-type puppets that are puttin’ on an act at a pre-school er somethin’ of the like an’ there are all these lil kids watchin’ their show.  Well, it’s yer typical slow, lifeless, pathetic Cold Play song, but over the course of the video these puppets crowd surf, smash their instruments inter the PA, and blow up the drum kit a la Keith Moon.

What’s this foolishness ‘sposed ter mean?  Are these fools really tryin’ ter equate their drawl with the punk and rock energy of the likes of The Who an’ The Clash?  Give me a doggone break, an’ don’t you dare fer a moment try ter tell me that they are makin’ some sorta statement er some such balderdash.  At the end of the video them marionettes done jump inter a helicopter an’ make some sorter getaway.  Cold Play as Jimi Hendrix?  Good grief.

One of my friends who I done discussed this with suggested that maybe they thought they wuz somehow satirizin’ er mockin’ the punk scene, but in all honesty, who the Hell is Cold Play ter bein’ doin’ somethin’ like satirizin’ punk rock?  On what grounds do those ding dongs think they have the right ter mock punk?  Ter quote my pard Tom:  “They are disingenuous, inauthentic idiots who make innocuous music for the vapid box populi.”

Nonetheless, don’t mind me.  My ire is up.  I dislike them fellers.

On a lighter note, today while I wuz sittin’ in Del Taco eatin’ my Taco Tuesday acquisitions, the person servin’ the drive-thru window done had the box on speaker so’s ever’one in the restaurant could hear them folks orderin’ outside.  This one lady, she done sez inter the microphone:  “I want a chicken quesadilla… with chicken in it.”

-Squeezebox Sam