Archive for the ‘animals’ Category


I bet it doesn’t make you feel good.  I bet you don’t even care enough to notice.  I bet you’ve simply become accustomed to the comfort of cruelty.

It’s easy, right?  It’s just a dog.  It’s just a dog.  Plus, you don’t have to go out of your way.  All you have to do is forget to feed it, to forget to ever bring it inside and forget to schedule that vet appointment.  Easy.

We’ve noticed, though.  We’ve noticed that, everyday we walk home, we walk past your door and your dog is always there; outside.  We’ve noticed that this is always true regardless of weather conditions.  We’ve noticed the neglected appearance — the complete lack of energy, the mangy coat, the weak frame and the sunken, red eyes.  We’ve noticed.

And so we’re going to tell on you.

We’re going to tell on you because you’ve apparently forgotten — or have never known — what it’s like to be defenseless and so you need to be reminded, even if all we can really do is get someone to come to your house and force your unwilling hand.  We’re telling on you because your dog can’t.  We’re telling on you because I know what it’s like to have to put a dog to sleep because we’d exhausted all other options and I can’t imagine why you’d simply let yours fade away for no reason.  We’re telling on you because as I’m writing this, there’s a dog resting against my leg that I’d fight for.  And we’re telling on you because apparently none of your neighbors care either.

No, this is not just some PETA-inspired, lefty rant.  And no, we’re not going to get busy with work and forget.  We are going to discreetly and legally attempt to take pictures from the sidewalk of your dog outside your home.  We’re going to do our legally-trained best to document what we’ve seen.  And we’re going to contact each relevant local entity that will listen.


Frankly, much better people than you.


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At some point yesterday, there was a playful APB put out on my balls.

Let me assure you, they will not be on display on this blog. Frankly, they are not fans of sunlight. Additionally, there’s always the risk of moisture out in the open and we all know what that would mean.

So rather than write about how they do serve their purpose — despite being attached to a guy who likes a Taylor Swift song — and pretend like I didn’t laugh when I read the DC Blogs teaser, I thought I’d just share a story about a time when the boys were in grave, grave danger of literal extinction.

That’s right. Back on the TMI Thursday train! Chicka-chicka-woo-woo!¹

With that…

Too Close for Comfort

It’s dark; so I turn on the light. It gets brighter.

I’m in the bathroom at “someone else’s” house.² I’d needed to use the bathroom, so… I’d gone into the bathroom.

This house — this house of “someone else” — has a rodent problem. Correction: mice have been so bold as to just chill on the sofa next to you while watching TV. At first, as an invited guest, I had offered my rodent-elimination skills (read: a baseball bat and a floor covered with saran wrap for easy clean-up)³. Eventually, I just gave up trying and looked out for self.

On this fateful night I enter the bathroom, I am not alone. I learn this frightful fact too late.

I am standing over the thing where the stuff you don’t want anymore goes to die, with my pants… ajar. Just about finished, I notice a sound behind the thing that takes the stuff you’re no longer interested in carrying around on the inside.

I freeze. I am surprised. I wonder why I have never heard this sound from the thing that collects organic leftovers before.

I see a mouse poke its head out from behind the machine that collects unwanted donations.ª

(Note. If you’re so sure you’d have gathered yourself immediately and zipped up as quick as gravity and your motor skills allow, trust this: you are full of stuff the machine I’ve been talking about figuratively collects.)

I stay frozen. And then it happens.

The mouse freaks out and leaps. into. the. air.

Did you know mice can jump two feet straight up into the air? I didn’t.

I do now.

Do you know how high two feet is on a man who’s somewhere between 5’11” and 6′? High enough to have everything his sexual life has been and everything it could be flash by.º

I jump back in utter horror against the wall and swing my left foot at that little piece of Satan. I miss, but I get close enough to let it know that if life is like a chocolate bar, this is not one of those “sometimes you feel like a nut” moments.

It continues to freak out. I continue to freak out. It makes its way for the door and squeezes through a crack. I thank the great baby jebus. I walk out tattered and broken but alive and in full possession of what really matters in life.


¹C’mon ride the train, and ride it. C’mon ride the train, it’s the choo-choo…

²To protect the lives of others, I won’t even use fake blog names.

³Just so you know, I love animals. But I have a rule: if it is in the house, and it doesn’t leave when asked nicely, there are few rules. I’m sorry, rodents and insects, I know we’ve built our homes in your habitat, but we’re not going back to caves so deal and respect the boundaries.

ªWordPress.com has run out of numerical footnotes. But just in case I’ve lost you, I am talking about the toilet.

ºStick that measurement in your metric system.

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I tried, Maxie.  I tried so hard.  I tried so hard to find a way to say tigers are better than sharks.

Tigers are better than sharks… in cartoons.

I thought about every cartoon tiger I could remember because, as you all probably know by now, that’s how this brain I’ve got works.

I came up with









I could really only remember one cartoon shark of any real import: Bruce, from Finding Nemo.

credit: Disney Enterprises Inc./Pixar Animation Studios

credit: Disney Enterprises Inc./Pixar Animation Studios

I remembered Tony the sold-out-Tiger, but didn’t count him.  And so, honestly, even at a ratio of three-to-one, it was a tiger victory but not by a landslide.

And then I remembered Shere Khan.  Game; set; match.

We first met Khan in The Jungle Book


and then later on TailSpin

KhanAnd you know what?  Supreme badass.  Khan is a perfect example of everything I actually respect about tigers: ruthless.

My favorite thing about tigers is that they can be “take names in the evening, eat flesh in the morning” animals.  A tiger could’ve been hunting you for days and you’d never even know it.¹  Actually, I’d be careful on that walk home.

Also, we always hear about shark attacks.  All this attention on them and the marine biology community still thinks sharks only attack humans because they stupidly mistake them for other stuff.  You know why tigers attack people, though?  Because they’re there.  Because it’s something to do.  Because it’s 11 am and wtf else is a tiger gonna do at 11 am?

And, finally, we all know how we’re supposed to defend against a shark attack.  We’re supposed to punch it in the eye.  They hate that.  But if we can beat them with a mere bar fight technique, well, maybe they need to toughen up a little.  And I think it goes without saying but good luck trying to punch a tiger in the eye.  Un. Stop. Puh. Buhl.

All of these features are in Khan.  Go ahead; look at him again.  Look at the suit.

Khan would feed you to his little tiger cubs in a heartbeat; just because you looked at him; even though his cubs aren’t teething yet and they could only gum you to death; and they would gum you; to death.

As a matter of fact, from now on, Chuck Norris is dead to me.  Hail Shere Khan.

¹This “fact” has not been verified by the Discovery Channel or NatGeo. Wait for their verification, if you want. Wouldn’t recommend it, though.

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Throw your hands in the air!
*crowd thrusts hands*

And wave ’em around like you’re screaming for your life!
*crowd drops hands, wonders wtf is going on*

Cuz it’s Shark Week, mofos!
*crowd catches on, recommences hand-waving*

Shark Week _ Discovery Channel _ Shark Behavior and Conservation

That’s right: Shark Week.  It’s the week when the Discovery Channel strives to convince us that sharks are just misunderstood, intelligent killing machines and not just, well, mere killing machines, I guess.  It’s the week when the Discovery building in nearby Silver Spring, MD is adorned with huge shark-like features.

credit: adrants.com

credit: adrants.com

It’s also the week when I sit and stare at it all on my TV screen like it’s a three-car pile-up on the highway.  I don’t know why, but learning in explicit detail about all the ways a shark could interrupt my life expectancy is riveting.

After years of having watched the week-long infotainment special, I know exactly how to avoid/survive a shark attack:

  1. Stay on land.
  2. Do not go in any non-human-made water; not even to retrieve a loved one.  A real loved one would understand.
  3. Chivalry is not dead.  When it comes to shark-infested water, women and children go first.
  4. The only fool-proof flotation device is a continent.  Find one and stay on it.
  5. If all else fails and you are in the water with a shark because you have ignored rules 1-4, punch that bastard in the eye until it lets go or eats your hand.

Now that I saved your life, in honor of Shark Week, I would like to share with you another of my biggest fears.

ET the movieYep.  E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial.

Not E.T. himself, but the movie.  I own it, but I can’t watch it.  It’s not because I have separation anxiety or anything, such that the symbolism strikes at any childhood issues.  Nope.  It’s that scene where they’ve got the whole house on lockdown and it looks like they’ve moved in the United Nations’ weapons of mass destruction inspectors to search the premises.

See?  See how I can’t even really describe the scene?  I remember them in some sort of bee keeper suits; but not your average bee keeper suits.  They were like suits for keepers who kept radioactive, alien bees.  And I hate bees.  And I remember them trying to quarantine everything in sight.  And the horror.  I remember the horror.

Am I anywhere near right on this?  Did this scene even actually happen?  I know I could just reach to my right about 5 feet, grab the movie and solve this.  Chances are that even if I am right, I wouldn’t be scared anymore if I watched it.  But that’s what Steven Spielberg would want me to think.  I’m not taking that chance.

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Lion Feeding Frenzy_ Midnight Snacks _ Video _ Discovery Channel 2

Underwhelmed by last night’s SYTYCD, I sorted through my go-to-channels (Discovery, NatGeo and Animal Planet).  At any given moment, there is a show on at least one of those channels featuring adventurists gone wild, seemingly begging for a no-casket-death and poking at the fragile human/wildlife balance.  I found “Lion Feeding Frenzy.”

The premise?  Well, you can go here to watch a clip that explains it all.  Basically, two morons place themselves in a prey box¹, get dropped off in the middle of lion country and then proceed to entice and tease hungry lions with actual carcasses dangling from trees, actual flesh placed on top of the box they’re in and fake, rubber “carcasses” set up around the box.

At first, I thought I’d write about just how spoiled-human it was for two guys to initiate staged feeding frenzies.  Miss Bianca was right: no one cares about the safety of the idiots.  Unlike people like me, though — who eat because food is there — lions eat almost exclusively for intertwined reasons: health and dominance.  Encouraging them to fight amongst themselves to see who could be the biggest, or wasting the time they’d otherwise be hunting actual food by planting dummies, is ridiculous.

But forget all of that.  I have a better idea.

I’d watch a show about someone putting the NYC Prep kids in a prey box and dropping them off in lion country.

credit: theinsider.com

credit: theinsider.com

Especially that kid in the center.  There would have to be a catch, though: the prey box would have to have an “accidentally overlooked” structural flaw, such that… well, you know… hilarity ensues.

I missed my chance to throw a blog-based tantrum about those My Super Sweet 16 brats — a group Common tenderly calls out at the 1:37 mark in this video for a track on Finding Forever.  But I want this show made: NYC Prey School.

The set-up: 5 derivatives-of-their-parents’-wealth, NYC prep school kids with a survival package — 2 hand mirrors, 1 cell phone and 3 cans of SPAM — a poorly manufactured prey box and a ravenous pack of male lions with something to prove.  It would be a little like I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here, except better in every single way.  Plus, since it’s my idea, I’d get paid for it and all of you would be invited to the red carpet premiere.

¹They called it a “predator shield,” but come on — who are they kidding?

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I usually can’t stand when people start a sentence with “I don’t do” and end it with an inanimate object or concept, like “showers,” or “mornings.”  Nonetheless…

I don’t do open water.

So it should it go without saying that I’ve never seen the movie by that name:

Yet for reasons unknown, I’m fascinated by the causes for the fear: the bigdamnfish that live beneath the surface.  For example, I’m always glued to my TV during shark week on the Discovery Channel and can’t wait until late this July when the Discovery building in nearby Silver Spring will be adorned with its annual shark head, tail and fins:

credit: adrants.com

credit: adrants.com

This same fascination led to me watching something like seven episodes of River Monsters on Animal Planet yesterday.  The entire, outward point of this show is to freak people like me out.  Actually, I think it said “Here’s f***ing with you, f.B” in the credits.  The host, Jeremy Wade, gets paid to assure people like me that despite what we may have considered our worst fears about open water in seas and oceans, there are actually man-eating, flesh-craving beasts of unimaginable sizes in the fresh water we assumed was safer.  These fresh water fish don’t play by the rules and, due to the oft murky water in which they live, can’t tell their anal fins from their pectoral fins, let alone my leg from a meal.

So what did I learn after seven hours?
1. Jeremy Wade is a heartless bastard.
2. I now also don’t do closed water, fresh water or any other collection of water not in a bathtub or loaded with safe-levels of chlorine.
3. Grey’s Anatomy actually bases some of its shows on fact.

Remember?  There was that Grey’s episode featuring a guy with a fish in his penis two years ago.  And guess who thought it was just some sort of Amazonian myth.  Yep: me.  But it’s not.

On episode number seven, yesterday — notice, it was the last episode I decided to watch — a guy was trying to urinate in the river.  And guess what?  A candirú swam up his urine stream and into his happy branch.  Frightened beyond belief, he looked down and the damn thing was hanging out.  By the time he got to the hospital, this 5-6 inches long fish was trying to gnaw its way out through the sphincter; through, the, sphincter.


Don’t judge me if, this summer and for the rest of my life, I avoid the kinds of adventures and experiences that include “risk of fish in penis.”  I fully plan to take some time here and there and have fun.  And hopefully that’ll include a resort or some beach-side vacationing.  But I will not — I stress, will not — allow my urethra to become a link in the food chain.  I’m just not that kind of guy.

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Disclaimer: If you or someone you love has pig flu, you may not find this very funny.  And by transitive property, if you do not find this funny, you or someone you love has pig flu (I guarantee) and you might want to get that checked out.

When Alltop asked me to inform the public about pig flu (“the plu”), it took me a while to understand why.  But after minutes of deliberation, I realized it’s because it was a mistake.

Nonetheless, no take backs, Alltop!  Sometimes you get what you give¹, but you always get what you ask for.

Now, to solve the plu, I have a simple, two-step plan.  And it goes a little something like this:

1. Educate the children.

We gotta propagandize the children, starting as young as 3.  This is what this country does every time we face crisis and the plu should be no exception.

How do we do this?  Propaganda rhymes, of course.  We take a well-known nursery rhyme, strip its innocence and disseminate it irresponsibly.  For example:

“This Little Piggy”

This little piggy went to market,
with a viral disease in its blood.
They chopped it up good into bacon
and sold it real cheap to your mom.
And you, little kiddie, cried wee wee wee wee,
’til the poison rotted out your lungs.

Clearly, this would be more effective if there was a YouTube video of it being performed by an army of the kids’ favorite celebrities, produced by Quincy Jones.

2. Military preparedness.

The day when eating bacon can get you the plu — and it can, that is fact! — is also the day pigs fly. And since these pigs clearly mean business, we must be prepared to attack them where they are now most comfortable: the air.

We need to completely retool our Air Force.

No cost is too high.  All of our fighting planes need to be pig-ready.  Actually, our commercial planes should be pig-proof, too.  God forbid a flock of plu-carrying pigs invaded the air space of a Southwest Airlines flight to Michigan, or something.  Because then all the passengers would be freaking out and all the dumbass flight attendant — or is it “air server,” now? — could do would be to sing or rap about the experience.  And that’s no good for any of us.

This has been a piglet service announcement.

¹Remember the New Radicals? Anyone?

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