I Hate Spam

So I finally manage to escape the confines of my summer home and get online without any suspicious Great Oppressors taking note of my activities, only to find that the last "person" to leave a comment was actually a spammer pimping out his oppressed Alaskan Malamutes. So you don't have to scroll down and read said comment, it reads "Darksky Alaskan Malamutes said...
Yes that sure is true. BTW did you see my new pup from Darksky Alaskan Malamutes? He's a real spunk.
Have a great one
George"

Listen, George. This is NOT eHarmony! I don't need your help in getting a date. Besides, who raises purebred Alaskan Malamutes IN AUSTRALIA?Seriously. As a descendent of a noble line of working dogs who hails from Queensland, I seriously question the morality of raising dogs originally bred for Arctic conditions and forcing them to live in a country that is desert on the inside and all poisonous jellyfish and sharks on the outside. Don't get me wrong... I am proud of my native land but breeding Alaskan Malamutes in Queensland makes about as much sense as breeding snakes in Anchorage and training them to run the Ididarod. Just look at poor Arnoo, one of George's dogs.

Note the hand of the Great Oppressor in the act of oppression, holding poor Arnoo whilst this noble animal swelters in the heat and dreams of running across the frozen wastes of the American north. I cannot stand idly by! Today I am launching a new campaign. Send contributions to:
FREE ARNOO FOUNDATION
Attn: Sid the Dog
Oregon
Sorry I don't have any more specific address information for you, but the mailman knows who I am. Oh yes.

Good Sleeping Weather

Hey guys. It has been a while since I've been on here. I've been catching up on my beauty sleep. There is a lot for me not to like about Oregon and Mt Hood, but I've decided to be positive for this entry. At the moment the most positive thing I have to say about the past few weeks is that it has been great sleeping weather. Cold, wet, dark and grey weather make for excellent naps and sleeping in. I guess that I have a certain fondness for sleeping in bright direct sunlight also, but like I said I'm keeping it positive right now.

In other "positive" news Dazy (that's right with the letter z) and I have come to something of an underdstanding. Dazy and I have a lot in common really, we are both bitches. She has even started to try to play with me, but I've been ignoring her which is pretty fun. There are other good things about Oregon, but I won't bore you with the details. I'll try to have Great Opressor B put some pictures up soon. Until then, I remain, Sid the Dog.

Sigh

Well, it's raining at Mount Hood again. Su-prise, su-prise. Don't get me wrong, Oregon is cool but it's a little depressing this week what with my family, uh, I mean Great Oppressors, facing the long separation of the summer. The rain just makes things seem a bit glum. So, in order to show my displeasure, I rolled in some stinky poo whilst on a walk with B. He couldn't find a hose to give me a good rinse, so he did the best he could to wash me off with the limited resources at his disposal and I reveled in my rare act of civil disobedience. Normally I don't advocate childish things like rolling in poop, but if you really want to make a statement, nothing says "screw you Great Oppressors" quite like it. Maybe I'm going to miss Great Oppressor J after all. I was looking forward to having B all to myself but I suppose things tend to be better when we're all together.

I'm Out

Tomorrow begins my road trip with Great Oppressor B. I can hardly wait to roll down the endless wasteland that is the Great I-80. At least B got an iPod this spring so we don't have to deal with the CD player skipping. Hopefully he won't ask me to drive all that much, since I really hate dealing with all of the truckers traveling across Wyoming. Why does Wyoming have to suck so bad? I mean, really, I'd rather go back to the pound rather than spend one night in either Rock Springs or Rawlins and I'm a dog. Usually any place that contains food and things to pee on is just as good as any, but both of those towns have this patina of despair that is unbearable even to my cheery disposition. But at least we're just passing through.

Screw you guys...

I am so out of here. In two short days I'll be pulling up my anchor and setting sail for lusher, greener shores. That's right I'm going to Oregon. Great Oppressor B has summer work at Mt Hood so that is where my duty calls. I have pretty mixed feelings about this since my last several summers have been spent with Cat (the human, not the species) in New York. Cat is awesome and she lets me run around her farm and kill small animals (I'm still working on the larger ones). Cat takes me to cool places and lets me eat corn on the cob which is one of my favorite foods. I could go on but it is too depressing...

On the positive side of things I will be able to roll in the snow on the hottest of days this summer (assuming B gets off his tail and takes me to the mountain). B will probably take me on some pretty cool hikes too and even though he is really annoying I've grown sort of attached to him over the years. I'm really going to miss Great Oppressor J a lot though, she is going to be in Montana where I used to live. I'm also a little suspicious about my living arrangements, B tells me that I am going to be living with Daisy. I don't know about you people out there in cyberland but dogs with names like Daisy and Pepper or Spike really make me nervous. All I can do is hope for the best and prepare for the worst...

Shangri-Lawn

This is me straining against the Red Leash of the Great Oppressors to lie on the lush heaven that is our neighbor's lawn. Our next door neighbor is obsessed. The man fertilizes, waters, grooms, and frets nervously over his patch of grass, oblivious to the fact that Denver is for all intents and purposes a desert. Sometimes he bitches about the state of the neighboring lawns loud enough so that we hear him. But as silly as green lawns are, they are nice to lie in. I like to lie in his lawn and rest up from a hard day of thinking about the world's problems, but the Great Oppressors are worried that he may perceive my presence as harmful to his precious bluegrass. They have taken steps to reduce my precious turf-lying by limiting me to one leash instead of two to force me to stay on my own property when I ask to go outside. However, I will no longer lie on the dry, unsatisfactory grass of the Great Oppressors. Note how I still find a way to lie on the lush grass of our neighbor despite the fact that I am being choked by the red leash of oppression. For me, it is Shangri-Lawn.

Is This Guy a Vacuum Cleaner? He Sucks...

I realize that I am perhaps the only dog out here who is upset at the impending confirmation of Idaho Governor Dirk Kempthorne as our new Secretary of the Interior. I have expressed my displeasure at his qualifications before,. but while some folks are a bit upset about this it appears unlikely that anything can be done. Apparently, there is little doubt that Kempthorne will be confirmed before the week is out. Here is a news item taken from a newspaper that truly deserves to line the litterboxes of incontintent cats, the Idaho Statesman.

Gov. Dirk Kempthorne has moved out of his Statehouse office, and he does not plan to come back for state business.

Workers on Thursday removed nails and covered the holes in the walls where Kempthorne's pictures and framed newspaper articles once hung. His Statehouse staffers are packing their desks, exploring job possibilities.

Kempthorne's busts of Washington and Jefferson, his Civil War uniform, his childhood baseball mitt, and his football helmets from Boise State, Idaho State and the University of Idaho, have been gradually removed from his office. The job was finished over the weekend.

I love the "Still Life with Kempthorne" paragraph lovingly detailing the carefully selected detritus of a politician's office. I'm especially fond of "his Civil War uniform." Did Kempthorne fight for the Union or the Confederacy? As for the busts of Washington of Jefferson, I imagine that Kempthorne probably spent a great deal of his days in the governor's office studying those busts, holding them next to his own face in the mirror (if any politician's office has a mirror, Kempthorne's has one), and trying to emulate their presidential expression. His childhood baseball mitt? His football helmets from Boise State, Idaho State, and the University of Idaho? No word yet on his Tinkertoy collection, pet hamsters and their specially designed Habitrail, or the big box of Legos he keeps in the closet for extra special visitors.

Brutally Unfair

I'd been hoping to get some things done this weekend, but it looks like I'll be spending most of my day lying on the couch with my favorite pillow instead. Since I seem to have pulled a muscle playing with my new friend Susie the German Shepherd yesterday, this would be the perfect time to nurse my injuries and catch up on my duties as the family accountant. After all, I am a working dog... Unfortunately, my Great Oppressors still haven't managed to get all of their receipts together, so here it is mid-May and I haven't been able to get their taxes done due to no fault of my own. I'm a little irritated that the GOs decided to file an extension this year. I can see this degenerating into one of those situations where they finally get everything together and then expect me to just drop what I'm doing and crank out their return. Well, I'm seriously considering just telling them to take it to H & R Block this year because it makes me feel taken for granted when they put off things like this. Maybe they'll appreciate me more once they see how much money I've saving them.

Don't Fear the Rooster

Today's entrant in the Screw Old Navy Alternative Mascot competition is blogging to us all the way from Poland. Keep those entries coming!

"Hi! My name's Rooster. I was Chicken Number 09182006Z38 according to the little metal band on my leg but I decided to go for something a little shorter. I'm actually not Polish, but what a country! I was recently hired to be the face of the Rooster Restaurant Chain here in lovely Sopot, Poland. Since the owners of the franchise are trying to go for that American feel, they decided it would be appropriate to hire an American chicken, so here I am representing the red, white, and blue! It's a pretty sweet life here. This is my flock of Polish ladies sitting on my new ride. Check it.


Here is the official description of the restaurant in English from our website...
'Interior design is typical for all ROOSTER restaurants reminding good old time of rock and roll era.
Sopot venue have two rooms, first (capacity 100 person) is smoking second (capacity 30 ) is strictly non smoking.
During summer we offer to our guests splendid outside patio, where they can fully relax after city sightseeing.
Sopot restaurant represent characteristic for chain with ROOSTER logo high quality level of services and meals, and above all you are one step for beach and sea.'

That's right, folks! Here at Rooster's you are only one step for beach and sea, with the same quality food you've come to expect from fine Rooster establishments in Krakow, Bydgoszcz, Gdansk, Gdynia, Lodz, and Zakopane. They serve lots of chicken here but try the beef! It's delicious! Aw, just kidding... Well, seriously, folks... I just flew in from America and BOY are my wings tired!

Anyway, I'd like to take the time to say that we ARE IN NO WAY affiliated with a certain American chain known for its clams, wings, owls, and nubile waitresses! Please direct all legal inquiries to our corporate headquarters in Gdansk. Seriously, folks, I'm just the chicken who gets petted by the nice ladies when Vaclav lets me out of my cage to peck at the peanut shells on the bar. Stop sending subpoenas my way...

In short, I'd like to add 'Old Navy Spokescock' to my lengthy list of accomplishments. Roosters and Old Navy... Oh yeah! Ahoy, mateys!"

Unleash the Fury

The cumulative effect of Christophe and Jimmy Fleshtone's posts was a tad unsettling, so here is a picture of me with my ear attuned to the literary pulse of America just to remind you all that this is a blog first and foremost about Sid the Dog. My literary tastes have been turning to the nonfiction sphere as of late. If the ageist automatons at Old Navy cared about the well-read, literary inclinations of we older dogs then they might have provided an opportunity to list our favorite authors on our contest entries. But no, we will have to wait for the Paris Hilton/Hilary Duff/Frankie Muniz of the dog world to win their competition and continue perpetuating America's obsession with youth. Anyway, back to my own literary faves...

I would like to urge everyone to read Temple Grandin's latest book Animals in Translation: Using the Mysteries of Autism to Decode Animal Behavior. While I would normally never advocate a book written by a human about us dogs, Temple Grandin is the coolest. Finally, someone with the reasons behind why collies have a vacant stare. The book doesn't quite explain my obsession with Corbin Bernsen, but I'm beginning to think that I might be the only one. The only one....

Vive l'Egalite!

Today's entrant for the Screw Old Navy Alternative Mascot competition is Christophe from Quebec. There were several non-dog entrants sending in photos over the weekend, but I felt that the gleam of competition lighting up Christophe's eyes was just too good to pass up.



"Allo! Je m'appelle Christophe! I am from Quebec, and even though it disgusts me to use the English tongue, it is not as disgusting as my own tongue, eh? Ah, the ladies, they love the fact that I have no teeth on one side of my mouth. You'd be surprised, perhaps, at how much the bitches love it. Anyway, I love the human bitches on the Old Navy ads and would love it very much if I won the competition and came to the Hollywood and met the nice bitches with their capris, holiday sweaters, and madras blouses. I saw today on the Old Navy website that the people at Old Navy are selling the madras blouses this summer. I would look great in the madras! I would also really love the holiday sweaters from Old Navy because I am part Chinese Crested dog and we have not much hair. And I would love to be chewing the flip-flops from Old Navy as well, although since I only have teeth on one side of my mouth I would probably just poke a couple of teeth holes in the flip-flops rather than what I want to do which is to chew the hell out of them. I would describe myself as everybody's best friend. I am loving to snuggle with everybody, although some people they run away. I love the Old Navy style, especially the boho blouses and the madras capri pants. J'aime Old Navy! Vote for Christophe and make the dreams come true!"

Screw Old Navy

So, I was fantasizing about my upcoming election to be the Old Navy spokesdog when I decided to do a little research on the original "Magic" spokesdog. It turns out that the original Magic is still alive, and "decided" to "retire" at age nine. To my horror, I realized that since I am nine, the ageist folks at Old Navy will likely reject my bid at stardom. I wonder if Magic really decided to retire or was forced to bow out due to our society's unhealthy perception of aging. It's true that there just aren't any good roles for dogs moving on to their golden years. Here I was hoping to be the Susan Sarandon or Lauren Hutton of the canine set, and it turns out that I am being culled from the available crop before I'm even allowed to compete. So, I am launching an alternative competition for the Old Navy mascot. In addition to so-called "senior" dogs, I will accept submissions from any member of the animal kingdom who figures out how to gain access to the blogosphere. Even cats will be accepted, as is shown by our first entrant into the "Screw Old Navy Alternative Mascot Competition."



"Hi! My name is Jimmy Fleshtone. I'm a hairless cat, or Canadian Sphynx. I am an indoor cat with pale skin, although I am looking into spray-on tanning options to make myself more presentable for a possible television appearance. I'd describe myself as a "Male Fashionista" since we Sphynx cats often have to wear a variety of sweaters to stay warm. I like to work out in order to keep my physique in tip-top shape and try to spend at least a couple of hours a day doing pull-ups and scratching exercises on my cat tree. Check out my guns! Is there a veternarian in the house, because my pythons are SICK! My best trick is impressing the hell out of the ladies."

Wrong Magic

So embarrassed... The Old Navy "Magic" was a dog, not former L.A. Laker Magic Johnson. Please ignore the previous post.

Search for Magic

I have to admit, I've been thinking about what would happen if my dream comes true and the American public selects me as the new face of Old Navy. Do I really want the trappings of fame? The paparazzi following my every move, gossip columnists analyzing my personal life, the contents of my poop described on the blogosphere for everyone to see? And will money really answer my problems? I mean, sure, winning the grand prize might win me freedom from The Great Oppressors but will it really grant me FREEDOM? Freedom from our consumerist culture, freedom from stereotypes, freedom from the restrictive expectations forced upon my species by thousands of years? I do not have the answer to these questions, but I promise that if I get this part then I will use my newfound fame to advance the cause of my species. We have been disenfranchised for too long.

So vote for Sid in the Search for Magic competition! LA Lakers, fast playmakers, kings of the court shake and bake all takers! Back to back is a matter of fact! A fact that remains... Intact!

If I Were a Dog, I'd Join the Navy

Greetings, fans! This is my glamour shot for the Old Navy "Search for Magic" competition, in which the people at my FAVORITE store in the WHOLE WORLD other than Petsmart are looking for a new mascot. I honestly think this is my big shot at freedom, so keep your paws crossed. Betty White from the Golden Girls, Kristin Chenoweth from "RV," and some other people will be selecting the five finalists, who will then be voted on by the American public. When I saw Kristin Chenoweth's name up there, I was a little worried because I thought there might be a chance that Robin Williams would be involved somehow since they were in "RV" together. Robin Williams hurts my highly developed sense of hearing with his tired homeboy impression and offends my keen sense of smell with the accumulated stench of his body of work. But then I remembered that Kristin Chenoweth seems pretty nice and is very talented despite the fact that she was in "RV," so I don't think she would do that to me. And I bet Betty White wouldn't tolerate any special guest appearances by Williams. Betty White kicks ass. Do you think Kristin and Betty know Corbin Bernsen?
The grand prize winner (me) gets a trip to Los Angeles, some money for MY OWN PLACE, and a starring role in a holiday Old Navy ad! I'm hoping it will also feature Corbin Bernsen dressed up in a Scandinavian-style (Old Scandinavy!) sweater with a white deer pattern. Corbin will brush my luxurious spotted coat with a brush as we sit by the fire... Okay, I'm getting ahead of myself. I'll keep you posted.

Life Is Unfair

This picture is Exhibit A of my unending humiliation at the hands of the Great Oppressors, who are celebrating their tenth anniversary of coupledom if you don't count the odd hiatuses from each other. I have been around for nine of those ten years, and it doesn't appear that things are getting any easier for me around here. Nine years of this poop and counting. Don't think I'm not keeping track of each and every indignity I suffer at their hands, such as being forced to wear Simple clogs and Gap cargo shorts. I wasn't born for your amusement!!!

Urine Trouble Now

Today's blog is brought to you by my new sponsors, Urine Gone. Thanks to Bonnie at Sales and Marketing for this great opportunity. I promise to represent the brand with pride, integrity, and enthusiasm. As stated on the company's site, "Getting rid of stains and odors caused by cat,
dog or human urine can be exasperating." Indeed... And while cats are listed as Urine Offenders Numeros Unos, Urine Gone can erase the evidence of any unfortunate human accident as well.
Now, some of you may accuse me of selling out or stooping to baseness. Let me explain. I secured my sponsorship after Great Oppressor Number Two kept getting sponsored Gmail links to Urine Gone, The Truth About Cat Urine, and Urine-Off.com. Did her e-mails contain anything about urine, cats, or otherwise? No. There appeared to be no observable connection. But as I heard her discussing the links with Great Oppressor Number One, I realized that the links were being sent to ME. A Sicilian message... So I followed up, and here I am, sponsored. Soon, I will have enough revenue to buy my freedom. Tell your friends!

Voodoo Kitty

You might notice that I haven't posted anything in a while. I've been spending some time on my spring projects, like the one-act play I'm writing about a smoked hickory-flavored cow femur. Those are so good. I've also been trying to lie in the sun and get some color during the afternoons, and it's just been too nice to sit at a computer. I was also waiting for something blog-worthy, which arrived last night when one of the Great Oppressors returned home from a business trip and brought the other Great Oppressor a gift.

I couldn't get any sleep with this thing staring at me all night. It looks like a cross between one of those creepy wind-up monkey toys and some sort of bobcat voodoo doll. I can't decide what makes me more nervous. Is it the real animal fur? The lazy eye of the mother bobcat? The exposed belly and open mouth of the second kitten from the left? What you can't tell by the picture is that all of the kitten heads are on little springs and bob up and down. The most disturbing thought is that someone spent lots of time lovingly crafting this monstrosity: painting stripes on the meticulously trimmed rabbit fur, glueing the hideous little eyes on the heads, inserting tiny springs so that the wee heads could bobble... So messed up.

A Quiz About the Important Things

Sometimes I wonder if other people/dogs can guess what I'm thinking. Can you guess?

In this picture, I am unhappy about:
a. The breakdown of organized labor in this country
b. My kibble. Two cups a day is more torture than sustenance.
c. Assholes. Not the kind I sniff, but the ones I see on TV talking about how well things are going.
d. Michael Bolton
e. John Bolton
f. Corbin Bernsen Fan Club (Denver Chapter) for not letting me join.
e. Anthropomorphism
f. Clowns
g. Kempthorne

A "Head" for Politics

I'm turning this post over to someone else again. I won't go into details about how we met, but let's just say we became acquainted last year. Depite certain unfortunate aspects of his character, I found his arguments compelling and thought giving him access to this forum would perhaps offer a viewpoint not often covered in the mainstream media.

"Greetings!
I'm a tapeworm... Kingdom: Animalia, Phylum: Platyhelminthes, Class: Cestoda, Species: Red-blooded American!

That's right folks, this scolex won't run! The reason I'm blogging is to officially announce my outrage at being barred from being able to campaign for political office. Being a parasitic flatworm, I feel that I have a firm grasp on what it takes to succeed in the American political system. My tenacity, steadfastness, and ability to thrive in a variety of different kinds of intestinal tracts are signs of character that have gone missing of late in the majority of political candidates. Yet while I consider myself to be a patriot, the arcane rules governing the American political process explicitly ban certain classes within the Kingdom Animalia from serving their country as elected officials. To this I say, what are opposable thumbs when compared to the majesty of a scolex? This blatant specism will not stand! To draw a parallel with Sid's recent complaint, why am I any less qualified a candidate for Secretary of the Interior than Kempthorne (see previous post)? He may be better-looking, but I am intimately acquainted with interiors. Besides, I bet I would clean up pretty nicely if I had access to the number of professional stylists Kempthorne's got on his payroll.

So I say, to hell with being content to live in the guts of our definitive hosts and let's show these people who's really running the show! Proglottids unite! Together we can overthrow the culture of corruption! My organization, Para-merica, will lead the new wave of grassroots activism our species needs to make its voice heard! Who's with me? At the very least, perhaps we can rule from the inside. I hear Cheney likes beef."