The Long and Short of It

I have been shopping for Christmas presents for my friends and even for management. Everything is politics, you know. Keep the boss happy and all that.

As you can see this is a calendar that someone stole an idea for from MY BLOG. I do not know any other dogs that blog. I do not even know any other dogs that can type. All those guys I met in the slammer were pretty slow. So where does this calendar company get off?

“I had my own blog for a while, but I decided to go back to just pointless, incessant barking.”

That is so wrong. I do not like how fancy New Yorkers just take anything they see. “Oh, look. A blog by a Corgi. Isn’t that fun? Let’s make up a cartoon about him. He does not know anyone. He cannot hurt us.”

Memo to New Yorker: I know Barney Bush. And you are in b-i-g trouble. Also we know Elaine in New York and Akamaru. Also Fluff. Sparky, too. They will march right into your office and protest. You will be sorry. Also my lawyer is going to sue you.

Merry Christmas.

Sushi is raw fish. Japan invented it. A spy from Russia ate some, and he died. That is because another spy put poison in it. He was in London.

I think you should stick to the basics like cheese fries and KFC. They do not put polonium 210 in Kentucky Fried. They would glow in the dark if they did. Besides, this is America. We go bowling and balance our portfolios. If we do not like someone, we cut them out of our will or sue them for $10 million. I am glad we won the cold war. Russians talk funny, anyway.

We are scamming free wifi in the car and eating treats. We do not know any spies.

Thanksgiving is the day you eat until you feel like you will pop. Then you take a nap. Then you go outside. Then it is time for a snack like more turkey or apple pie.

There is a movie called Batman. In it there is a very, very bad guy named Joker. He has a giant helium balloon. It sprays poison on the people and dogs of Gotham City.

Also there is a parade on TV on Thanksgiving morning when the bipeds are running into each other in the kitchen - and a certain someone is drinking Royal Kir or Bloody Marys - well, anyway, the parade is called the Macy’s parade. They have a lot of helium balloons, more than Joker. They do not have poison in them. Except it does not matter to the boss, because she says she will never shop in Macy’s again until they change the name of Marshall Fields back to Marshall Field and Company, not Macy’s. I do not care.

There is a helium shortage. There is not a shortage of hot air.

Lately we have been finding money everywhere.

Mostly dimes. When boss lady was swearing and picking up junk from our beach, she found a 1986 quarter just sitting there on the sand. Well, we got a stick and started to dig in case robbers buried their loot and forgot it.

We find pennies all the time. We save them. Ten pennies make a dime. Etc. We conservatives understand finance. We also understand that it is better to use someone else’s money if you are making an investment. Only you get their profit, too. And you can use their money as collateral to get more money if you play your cards right.

In case you do not know what collateral is, you better go read someone else’s blog, because I do not have time to baby sit dopes.

We conservatives lay it on the line. There is a skinny biped called Ann Coulter. She is a conservative. She calls people names all the time. Her boyfriend buys a lot of her books so that it looks like they are bestsellers. Then she goes on TV and yells at liberals.

I could get used to that.

Every once in a while I am multicultural.

For example, we had Chinese takeout for lunch. I stick to the tried and true like Moo goo gai pan and wonton. There is another dish called Har Kow. It has nothing to do with cows. It is shrimp.

I do not understand why they have names like Moo and Kow. All I know is that the boss can have all the bok choy and mushrooms. I will take the gai and har.

Egg drop soup is quite delicious, but I prefer wonton soup. You-know-who always gets hot and sour. That is because of her personality, but you did not hear that here. Har, har.

Here is my fortune: "You will ink a deal with Tracey Rosengrave."

Smart cookie! I am so clever.

If you are like me your mailbox has started to fill up with fancy party invitations for the holidays. My page-a-day calendar does not have enough room to write down everything I am invited to. I suppose I will have to take the boss to one or two things, but she is a social zero.

At Christmastime we have to pretend that blabbery liberals are almost as good as we stout Americans are. But that is only for about a half hour or so at the office Christmas party. We sweep in with our fur coats and everyday crowns: "Hello. Happy holidays. Good bye."

At the power parties where we put on the Ritz, we do not pretend to reach out. We want to get our way in everything. We are snobs.

Poor Barney is a wreck. Karl Rove called him a stupid poodle. Barney is a Scottish Terrier. Karl Rove has a cat named Mini-Me, so consider the source. There is a lot of yelling at Barney's White House with the bipeds tripping over empty gin bottles and his grandmother, Bar. Bar and Barney. We rulers have cute names. Management once knew a Player named Cooie. She wore Dashikis and La Perla underwear.

Back to my appointment calendar. Then a massage at the club. Ta.

The boss listens to a classical music station on the radio. It is called WFMT. It is FM. That means it is liberal.

Today they were reading an ad for a restaurant. You could order a citrus reduction and quince risotto. It is in a German neighborhood, but I do not know how risotto got into a German restaurant. Risotto is Italian. Germans like spätzle. Also cabbage.

Lots of people started to cook these foreign foods when yuppie baby boomers stopped smoking pot long enough to buy something besides Oreo cookies and pizza. The boss used to own a Krups coffee maker and an Atlas pasta machine. Before my time. I hope that she has learned something from this solid American. Dunkin’ Donuts and Kraft macaroni and cheese are gourmet enough for me.

They are having a fund raiser on WFMT to soak all the liberals so they can keep playing French music and advertising quail en croute. Businessmen like me also give them money, but that is so we can still be cut throats only with Beethoven playing in the background.

There was a movie about Beethoven. He was a Saint Bernard.

When I was spying on Elaine's blog one day, I noticed that you said your birthday was November 5th, Guy Fawkes Day. He tried to blow up the House of Lords in 1605. He was Catholic. I am a Buddhist. What about you?

If you did not have enough cake or other dessert, maybe we can send you something. Also, management has a free little coupon for a McBlizzard from McDonald's. It was on a Monopoly piece which was pasted on her hash browns which she did not eat and neither did I because I was in the mood for a cinnamon roll, but, anyway, it expires November 14. I do not know who will get to use it because Fatso does not need any ice cream and she will not let me have any.

Did you ever put sparklers on your birthday cake for Guy Fawkes Day? We had neighbors that owned a lot of fireworks. I do not suppose you could bake a cherry bomb inside a cake. Maybe you could cut a hole in a Boston creme pie and put the cherry bomb in it and then fill in around it with more creme. Yum. Let the maid light it just in case.

Exploding M&M's? Endless possibilities. I need to call the patent office.

The boss went junk hunting yesterday. I went wading and jogging. Then I did a security check of the territory. Lady bugs and a stray dog were all the intruders I saw. Naturally, the liberal bleeding heart gave the stray some food. He didn’t want dog food. No, he wanted a chicken leg. That is what happens when you give charity. They want steak and chicken. Not Brand X.

Here I am after inspecting some drift wood. You-know-who was busy picking up bottle caps and “plastic crap”, as she calls it. Ha ha. Typical liberal – picking up someone else’s trash, so that true consuming Americans can buy more and throw it on the beach.

I need a big drink.

Somebody named Mel Bochner painted this. It is in a show called Language at the Art Institute of Chicago. They do not allow dogs inside the Art Institute, so I had my assistant go there and take some pictures. They have pizza in the cafeteria. Excellent oatmeal cookies with raisins, too. Chocolate cake once in a while. It is a good place to eat lunch and look at art.

This is one of Mel's Thesaurus Paintings. He got the words from a real Thesaurus by a French person named Roget. John Kerry needs to read his Thesaurus before he makes any more dumb jokes.

Browsing through management’s ‘My Pictures’ I find this ignoramus sign, ‘Dog Hitching Post’. It is from the woods in Iowa. They are so liberal in Iowa City I suppose they ride their dogs to work to save energy. You cannot do anything Republican there, either, so they all go into the woods to work at finding berries and mushrooms and seeds instead of doing deals and shoving old ladies under buses so they do not have to pay them a pension.

They sell the seeds and berries at the open air market. Also they weave grass into toboggans. You cannot use coal for snowman eyes or anything because coal is not clean. You have to be clean in Iowa only you cannot waste water on baths or showers. That is why liberals are so crazy. They are always making up stupid rules.

The only hitching I am interested in is marrying management off to the hotdog salesman and hitching my wagon to a star. I am already a star. That would be like a super nova.