:: verbal connections ::

incoherent rambles and wildly apocryphal inanities

I have never been a fan of dogs.  In fact, I have spent a large part of my life being somewhat afraid of the beasts.  I think that the phobia was “created” back when I was very young – I happened to be walking very close to a fence behind which lived a very large, very fierce black dog who one day scared the shit out of me (not literally, luckily) by charging up to the fence as fast as he could while barking at me as loudly as he could.  To my young self, that animal carried roughly the size and mass of a small elephant.  In hindsight, I consider it a small miracle that I didn’t soil myself then and there.  I never learned to trust dogs while I was growing up, either.  So I guess it’s somewhat ironic that my family now owns two large dogs.

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My wife and I watched a movie last night – it was called The Box.  Its premise in its most basic form goes something like this: a couple is visited by a mysterious stranger who presents them with a mysterious package.  Inside the package they find a simple machine, consisting of a small box with a button on top of it.  And they’re given twenty-four hours to make a choice – if they press the button, two things will happen.  First, a person that they don’t know will die.  Second, they will receive one million dollars in cash.

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But I don’t really want a dog that’s broken!  My family recently adopted a new-to-us dog.  He was about 8-10 months old when we got him – the foster family was not quite sure of his precise age, but they did know that he’s still a puppy.  We got a new dog for a couple of reasons.  We have an older dog who’s about 11 years old.  He was also a rescue, so we’re not sure of his precise age.  We had hoped that having a younger animal around might revitalize our old boy a little, and also that having another dog might ease the pain of his eventual loss.  Of course, it may turn out that not only will we be upset when he passes, but that the New Dog will also be affected.  But New Dog comes with his own issues.  He hasn’t yet learned where the bathroom is.

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… what a crime to waste it on children.  George Bernard Shaw said that, and I’m almost certain that almost every adult has felt that way at one time or another.  I have two kids, and there are times that I’d like to set both of them on fire.  There are also times at which I’d like to set just one of them on fire, and then use that one to light the other.  There are also, I’m happy to admit, times at which I am very proud of them.

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… let’s talk a little bit about personal grooming for men and for women.  Apparently, “hair care for down there” is very, very much in fashion now, even with those of us who are notoriously wary about having any sort of sharp object within yards of our genitalia. 

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