Get Your Angry Off My Hind Quarters.

Ted might go with me

What would Groucho say?

Who did I know this year?

Dogs without women

Even dogs get the yuletide blues. On such days, I take myself for a walk.

It's easy to get paranoid wandering the streets, especially being a lone dog in a city packed with other dogs who are full of joys, holding paws and have puppies snoozing in push chairs. Indeed, a lone dog such as myself can't help but feel alienated.

But still, I ventured into the city.

Where does one go on such days? Feeling a bit dazed, I had the fleeting thought I'd find solace in Saint Paul's Cathedral. But I never got on well in service -- the stone floors chafe my knees caps.

I'd been walking three hours when the paranoia finally overwhelmed me. I was in Trafalgar Square and I thought I saw Nelson give me the evil eye. I got good and angry, really virile. Spent three hours trying to talk him into an arm wrestle. He was not man enough, however.

I walked on in confusion. My head was spinning. Found myself in a rundown area on the outskirts of Chingford. Got bitten chasing a dormouse, believing the pompom on my hat had escaped and was running away.

I know it all sounds too fantastic, but occurrences like these happen to me on a daily basis. Last week, I sleep-walked to Buckingham palace where I got arrested -- for hunting the Queen's guards' helmets. Apparently they were not in season. They say those guards never move, but try approaching one with a BB gun screaming the nonsense of dreams:

POOCH: Good god, Ernest, don't walk upwind of them. They'll smell you coming!

As I say, I was sleep-walking, and one of the guards jumped me, knocked me out. Of course, I got up again...

By the time the police arrived I'd come to. They saw my tired, bloodshot eyes and asked me outright:

Police Officer: Have you been smoking marijuana, sir?
POOCH: No, no way. I don't smoke pot. I couldn't, the smoke disorientates me. And that makes it very difficult to insert a needle.

Apparently, officers of the law don't know a joke when they hear one. Boy, is my paw not on the pulse. I made a break for it and the police unleashed their dogs. These were not smart dogs, however. I managed to ditch them by urinating on a hydrant and, of course, instinct obligated them to stop and do the same.

By the time I arrived home I was too tired to be blue. I drifted into a deep slumber, where my dreams found me once more with Hemingway in the mountains.

This is no good

Christmas in the news

Some days are just too cold for walkies, especially now we're in Winter and counting down to Christmas. On such days, I stay inside and read the newspaper that my owner, Geraldo, sets down next to my bed. Dignity prevents me telling you why he leaves the paper there, only some nights even Pooch gets scared of things that go bump in the night -- and it's too much for Geraldo to buy a mop.

According to the news, thousands of Christmas shoppers have been duped into buying nonexistent goods on Internet stores. Authorities say, "These websites claim to sell brand-name items at low prices. Be vigilant, shoppers! If it looks too good to be true, it probably is."

Gee whiz! They must think we're stupid. I don't care what they say. I'm still waiting for my lock of genuine bigfoot hair. It's naturally styled into the image of Jesus Christ, and that's special.

Speaking of Christmas, did you hear about this guy in America who held up a shopping mall Santa Claus with a stick of dynamite? This is for real. This guy actually walked up to Santa and threatened him, saying, "I've got dynamite." Dynamite! Who does this guy think he is, Yosemite Sam? You can picture it:

Santa: And what would you like for Christmas, son?
Yosemite Sam: Bring me the head of Bugs Bunny!

And there behind Yosemite Sam is his mother, waving frantically at Santa, saying: "No! We can't afford it!"

And I can only imagine what this guy's demands were...

Yosemite Sam: Take me off the naughty list. Or else.

Or did he plan to hijack the sleigh and hold Santa hostage? I'd like to see that hostage video.
















... two weeks later, the White House receives an unmarked parcel containing a disembodied beard.

It's a scary world out there, I think I prefer the things that go bump in the night.

Maybe if I had a girl friend

Smoke Alarms Do Queer Things to a Goat

So, I've hunkered down in this human's apartment for the cold season. It makes for awkward roaming and grazing but beats sleeping in frozen dung.

I can tell you this without a doubt: a goat should not be left unsupervised in the kitchen -- the living room, fine; the front parlour, if I have to; the bedroom, now you're talkin, but, NOT under any circumstances the kitchen!! how am I supposed to know food has to be watched when it cooks? I don't watch the flippin grass grow!

Uh...well...I do. But that isn't the point.

Cook for your goat.

OH at the Donut Shop

Overheard at the Donut Shop

Scene: Two sloppy looking humans sitting in the front window, drinking coffee.

Young dude: There's a lot of fat people in this city.
Older dude: There's fat people everywhere.
Young dude: There's no fat people in Ethiopia...except for Sally Struthers.
... There's one fat person in Ethiopia.

-------

Bleater chomping on a donut out of sight behind a plastic plant but well within earshot: baaahahaaa!

I don't know what to choose