Secular Dogma

Okay, this one has been burning a hole in my brain for some time now, but I'll admit that I shied away from bringing up this sensitive topic due to the potential firestorm that could be unleashed due to my remarks. I mean, it's not like there isn't enough tension swirling around religion these days. Still, I simply cannot remain silent on this one. My problem, dear readers, is with the Rainbow Bridge.


Now, I'm sure that most of you dogs out there have heard of the Rainbow Bridge, but for those of you who may have been shielded from this theological construct, here is the "poem" (several sites list it as being a poem, but it looks suspiciously like prose to me...) posted on not one, but a legion of sites contructed by humans that reference the Rainbow Bridge. Now, don't get me wrong, I think it is very touching that humans have dedicated sites to their animals. I simply think that there should be an alternative since this was obviously written by a human.
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Okay, so fundamentally I can understand this sentiment and I fully support the right of every American human and dog to persist in the belief that the Rainbow Bridge exists. After all, it's a wonderful thing that this country allows the free expression of faith. What bothers me is that this is the ONLY faith option for dogs that I could find on the Internet. I mean, you can't tell me that with all of the dogs out there we couldn't think of some sort of alternative. I mean, I'm all for hurt and maimed dogs becoming whole again, but does that mean I get my uterus back? Do the testicles of neutered dogs float back to them? And what of those dogs who do not have special people to wait for? Do they just have to wait around forever, or do they pass into oblivion? And what's up with the whole waiting around for our Great Oppressors? I mean, all those countless hours of waiting for them on Earth and here we are, back in eternity, WAITING FOR THEM AGAIN!!! If this isn't an ethnocentric view of the afterlife, I don't know what is.

Anyway, I would like to propose an alternative afterlife, created for and by dogs. I haven't quite hammered this out yet, but I'll be posting my fully formed theology, complete with rules, contradictory messages, etc. very shortly. All I can say is that it will contain all of the sorts of things that we dogs would truly seek in an afterlife. This will include copious amounts of the finest foodstuffs imaginable (fresh steaks, ice cream, roasted turkey, etc.), carcasses to roll in, unlimited buttdragging free of the judgmental eyes of the Great Oppressors, endless cat chasing (and this time, we'll get them), litter boxes containing only the finest cat poop, rodents to hunt, stuff to pee on, and no-strings attached buttsniffing. It's going to be great. Send those suggestions my way!

For the Love of the Game

I love games.






I have been tagged by Lulu, the most literary Amstaff lady in cyberspace. The rules of tag are as follows. The player of this game starts by listing “5 weird things/habits” about him/herself, then tags five friends and lists their names. Those who get “tagged” need to write on their blogs about their “5 weird “things/habits,” as well as state this rule clearly, then “tag” 5 more victims.

Note: Don’t forget to leave your victim a comment that says “you’re tagged!” in their comments and tell them to read your blog.

MY FIVE WEIRDEST HABITS by Sid the Dog

1. Whenever my Great Oppressors have some sort of disagreement or one of them gets the smallest amount of tension in their voice, I must step in by coming up to one of them and putting my paw on one of their legs, licking them, and wagging my tail. This has earned me the name "Marriage Counselor." I'm thinking of going into business for myself. I prefer to think of myself as an opportunistic social parasite who is looking after her food source. Who will feed me if they break up?

2. I ask to be let in, but never to be let out, even in times of grave gastrointestinal distress. Great Oppressor J still hasn't quite forgiven me about the Persian rug, and B is still a bit perturbed about his workshop being decimated. They usually seem to know when to let me out, so I think it is their fault for not noticing me sitting silently by the front door at three in the morning.

3. I hate dogs in pickup trucks. Hate them. I am usually calm and collected, but if I am out walking with B or J and observe a pickup truck with a dog in it I have to be physically restrained. I find this somewhat ironic since my breed is probably one of the top breeds found in pickup trucks located in the Western U.S. Yet I just can't help myself...

4. Whenever B and J, um, fulfill their marital obligations, I simply have to be in the same room. I find a nice quiet spot out of the way while they, um, you know, read in bed... Yeah, read... That's it...

5. I eat corn on the cob. I eat other vegetables too, but I eat corn on the cob like a maniac.

And now, the most difficult part of the game for me since I'm pretty sure that most of the dogs I know out here have already been tagged. What if I tag someone who has already been tagged? I think people are my only option at this point. I looked for Corbin Bernsen's blog to see if I could tag him, and then I looked to see if I could leave comments for Al Franken. Then I realized that posting something like this on a famous person's blog could get a dog in trouble. So, my victims are...

1. Connie of the Red Basement
2. Kathy of the Red Basement
3. Selma and/or Miles (these guys need their own blog, but make guest comments from time to time)
4. Dr. Pennypacker @ the Home of Crap
5. The Echidna
So, I know that means that I'm cheating since Connie, Kathy, Selma, and Miles are all based out of the same space, but what's a girl to do? It's not easy being tagged at the end of a cycle of tagging. I do think Selma and Miles should start their own blog from whence to launch the Labrador Revolution, but that's just me...

Rescue Me

My friend Wally's blog has recently featured an array of noble corgadors looking for good homes. Of course, I am fully dedicated to eventual dog independence, but as a rescue dog myself, I can fully attest that shelters are not places from which we can launch the revolution. Wally's blog got me thinking about corgi mixes. My own Great Oppressors have fond memories of Mr. Turtle, a corgi/chihuahua mix with three and a half functional legs (fused hip that gave him trouble when he ran) who belonged to a professor of theirs. B lived with Mr. T for nearly a year whilst said professor was on sabbatical and has fond memories of the little guy.
So, intrigued, I got on Petfinder to see if there were any heeler/corgi crosses. I wasn't going to post any since this was Wally's idea, but I was just too moved by the following pictures to avoid it. So, for one day only, I present some Heelcorg and other miscellaneous crossbred brethren who need a pull up on the old bootstraps.
1. Meet Jacqueline.

Jacqueline and her daughter were found in an abandoned garage with 7 puppies (cue violin music here). The puppies were Jacqueline's grandkids, but her daughter rejected them and Jacqueline nursed them instead (turn the volume up on those violins). Everyone in the little family has been adopted except for Jacqueline (this just isn't fair!!!), and she sounds like a sweet little lady by the sounds of her foster parents' description. Free Jacqueline!


2. Meet Wazzie.

There isn't much information on Wazzie, who is actually an Australian Shepherd/Corgi cross who lives in Utah. But just look at him!!! The merle coat! The eyes! He's fabulous!!!
3. Meet Goliath.


Okay, so Goliath is obviously not a corgi cross, but a Great Pyrenees/Heeler cross. I think the description on Petfinder says it best...
"Goliath was owner surrendered with his brother "Brother" after they flunked out of sheep herding school for playing. He is housebroke. He is playful and good with cats. He never runs off. He did get a chance at a new home but, was returned when the new boyfriend thought he was ugly. He really deserves another chance at a forever home. * Note: This shelter is ran out of my home so please call for an appointment before coming to the shelter. Thank you."
"...the boyfriend thought he was ugly." Yeah, and I'm sure the boyfriend is a real prize. I think Goliath is very handsome. The worst part of it all? Goliath lives in (cue dark, scary, music) ROCK SPRINGS, WYOMING, the foulest, most windswept, depressing, awful, did I mention "depressing," craphole of a town in the Western U.S. My Great Oppressors and I are united in our hatred of this town. Please help get Goliath OUT OF THERE!

Seriously F***ed Up. Seriously.

Okay, so I'm a liberated kind of dog. I have had several lovers, I have been known to hump a dog or two, and I certainly enjoy the occasional personal "play" session (because I can, that's why!). I even enjoy reading the Great Oppressor Dan Savage's sex advice column just to keep an open mind (and I like his politics. He seems like such a nice young man). Anyway, despite my efforts to keep an open mind about the following website I just can't. I discovered the following site for an animal "Bed and Bath" establishment accidentally while diving the dumpster of the Internet. The name of the business is "Miss Kitty's Bed and Bath." At the risk of litigation and to spare you the trouble of visiting the site yourself, I offer you the company logo! Sorry it's so tiny, but if you click on it you should be able to see the graphic clearly.

Given Miss Kitty's unfortunate "outfit," I would have to say that whoever dressed her in that has more issues than a magazine rack. The following pictures were taken from the Miss Kitty site and capture a deep underbelly of the American South, an underbelly dedicated to exploiting dogs and using them to fulfill unusual human fantasies. Prepare for my shocking expose... Observe!


This is right before the stripper pops out of that little cake and gives those two dachschunds a happy ending. And what is that one on the far left wearing? I suppose he is German...



His owner had to have done his shopping here, in the gift shop. Kinky, isn't it? Looks like a German leatherfest if you ask me! I can see the Great Oppressor now, carefully selecting the next Outfit of Shame for his unwilling animal slave.


















The hand of the Great Oppressor clenched around the throat, the inappropriate groping of the tail, the haircut (s)... Well, I mostly just included this one because of the glasses.




Further evidence of exploitation!!! Have we learned NOTHING from the JonBenet Ramsey case?

I'm Number One!

This is an exciting day at the Heeler, folks. I was mulling over altering the pseudonyms for the Great Oppressors since I recently discovered that a comic strip already employs this nickname for the humans. You can imagine my embarrassment... I am not a plagiarist! Anyway, I tried Googling "Great Oppressors" to see if I could find an example of the comic strip's use of the term and was excited/ecstatic/overjoyed to discover that Googling "Great Oppressors" puts this blog as the top two results! Granted, Googling "Great Oppressors" also yields a wide variety of strange things, and Googling "Great Oppressor Heeler" turns up a web page that introduces Apocalyptic passages from the Bible and somehow integrates them with the image of a Blue Heeler sniffing out the truth (I'm not even going to paste a link there, but it's as weird as it sounds). Still, the dominance of the Heeler atop the Great Oppressor Google results has made me rethink my initial impulse to rename B and J. I'll have to mull this over... Anyway, the important lesson here is that my quest for liberation is one Google result away from fruition! Viva la Sid!!! Speaking of which, Googling "Sid the Dog" gives my Blogger profile as the number one result. Oh yes... Yes...
While I would like to take credit for the lovely poster art celebrating the dominance of Australian Cattle Dogs, I cannot. But I do feel like it captures the spirit of my movement. I am also trying to figure out how to get the following item on either B or J's car without either of them noticing.

I feel a hot wind on my shoulder. The revolution is nigh!

Let Me Stand Next to Your Fire

A large amount of press is being dedicated to the Derby Fire in Montana, a blaze which just happened to flare up in Great Oppressor J's part of the forest. What hasn't made the papers is how I helped extinguish a different backcountry blaze that could have easily flared up into something much larger. Here is the fire when we found it... The best part is that somebody started this 5' by 4' by 2' smoker by lighting their toilet paper on fire instead of packing it out. People are animals.



Here is the fire after George Clooney and I put it out.

Well, really, I guess that B technically put it out. But I like to imagine George Clooney and myself running back and forth from the stream, desperately throwing water on the smoking earth before tragedy strikes and the fire flares up, giving the evil minions in the current political administration a reason to allow Haliburton to come in and perform salvage logging operations in the wilderness. And then George would mop the sweat from his brow, take off his t-shirt, rub his two-day old stubble thoughtfully, and look into the distance as the James Horner soundtrack swells and the camera cuts to a closeup of me looking pensive. And then there will be a shot of an Indian with tears in his eyes. What an exciting backpacking trip!!!

I Heart Backpacking

Hey there! I'm back in Denver after spending a week in the woods with B and J. This is a picture of me on the hike up to Rainbow Lake last week. I decided to jump on this boulder just to see what was up. I don't know what B and J would do without my vigilant eye. Speaking of vigilance, you may notice that B's head looks a little funny here. Since the Great Oppressors can partake in fantasy football, I think that we subjugated legions of pets should be able to engage in fantasy owners. So viva La Photoshop!

More Unfairness...

George Lucas enjoys suing people who dare to sully the Star Wars brand with fan fiction, image manipulation, or those who so much as dare to try to take a small piece of the 20 billion dollars in merchandise revenue that has been generated by the beloved franchise since 1977. My question is, who is going to sue Lucas for the following "coincidence?"


Battle Droid from one of the crappy Star Wars prequels.




My cousin Eddie.

Back to the Hotel

These are the salad days...My Great Oppressors and I are kicking it in a hotel for a couple of days enjoying the wonders of air conditioning and Stephen Colbert. This is me watching Stephen Colbert in the hotel.








No, seriously. That's me under there.

Into the Woods

After spending nearly a week with Great Oppressor J's family in Idaho when Great Oppressor B went to see his family in New York, I have been rewarded for my week of sitting around waiting for one of my Great Oppressors to return with... the reuniting of the Great Oppressors in Montana. That's a lot of Great Oppression to cram into one sentence! The wireless access at the hotel is certainly an added bonus, since I was going insane there in Oregon with such limited opportunities to jack in. Great Oppressor B is worn out from a long day of traveling and may not stir for another day or so, but J seems to be a bit livelier despite her 16-mile hike yesterday. She was hiking in from here...

Great Oppressor B and I will be joining Great Oppressor J next week for her last stint in the woods, and then we will all be together again in semi-lovely Denver, where my life will again adopt some consistency. This traveling around really wears a girl out, so I am superpsyched to get some time in the woods and then return to my couch. Hopefully J won't have to spend too much time in the woods cleaning up things like this...

This seat and the accompanying unburied poop was four miles from the trailhead, left for Great Oppressor J to clean up and pack out. I've said it before and I'll say it again, people are animals.

Jag: Not the Crappy TV Show

This summer has meant a long time living with Great Oppressor B while Great Oppressor J is spending most of her time in Montana where I used to live. Soon we will all be reunited and I will have better access to the Internet, at which point I will be able to resume a steady flurry of blog entries. To my loyal readers disappointed by my recent output, I offer a face that could melt a thousand hearts.


Awww....


And in similar news of unbearable cuteness, here is an article about one of my new favorite public figures, Jag the Political Animal. Jag's Great Oppressor is the esteemed Montana Governor Brian Schweitzer, who wears bolo ties, jeans, and takes Jag to work even though a small minority of the unenlightened consider Schweitzer's choice of dress and animal-friendly policy "unprofessional." Honestly, is it any surprise that Schweitzer dresses in jeans and boots? Cleaning up the muck and manure left by the foul Worst Governor Ever Judy Martz requires practical clothing. Anyway, Great Oppressor J visited the Montana Governor's House last night for a Democratic fundraiser and watched the Gov throw around the frisbee for young Jag, whose appearance on 60 Minutes generated a flurry of phone calls requesting his stud services. Is this a sign that dogs are taking this country back? Perhaps Schweitzer brings Jag to work because of his advisory skills. Four legs good, two legs bad.

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!"