Tuesday, August 16, 2011

More Madcap Mayhem From Those Marvelous Mutts of Murder and Mutilation

‘Tis August, Paddy, and ‘tis the dog days we’re in, sure! From sea to shining sea, all around this great big “land of the free, home of the Pit Bull,” those cuddly canines we’ve all come to know and love are at it again.

Up near Tampa the other day, old John Ashmore went out for his morning walk. As was his custom, the 84-year-old took advantage of the quiet mornings to stay fit. For nearly a million years Ashmore had managed to stay alive without fuss or bother, but on this day. . . . Little did the spry old dude realize that this morning his neighbor’s two pit bulls were--you guessed it--loose again. After the bloody mauling was over, somehow John found himself yet alive. Paras on the scene were horrified by what they found, however.  Ashmore suffered “major trauma” to the body—that’s fancy lingo for being torn limb from limb. When the dogs turned on the first cop to show, the officer proceeded to remove from this earth two pit bulls more.  Nice shooting, O'Malley!

Out San Francisco Bay way, a husband returned home from work last week to find his pregnant wife covered in blood and quite dead. Standing over her, also covered in gore, was the couple’s pit bull. After calling for help, the husband put the pit bull in the back yard. Of course, when cops arrived soon after, the pit bull naturally jumped the fence and attacked. It took three slugs from a service pistol but this killer was finally sent to another realm.

I have known two pit bull owners in my life, as well as one wannabe. All three individuals have been three of the most ignorant cretins you will ever find on the face of God’s green globe. All three have committed criminal acts. All three can barely spell their own names. All three are a total drain on society. Point #1: These ignorant and irresponsible individuals are why so damn many pit bulls are always running loose, i.e., because the owners are either too lazy, too stoned or too stupid to keep their fences up. Point #2: Why should the rest of us put up with these rocks in our midst who want to keep killing machines around for God knows what reason, and who have not the intelligence, ambition or sobriety to keep the killing machines penned up?

As one of these mental giants said, “Our pit bull was the best dog you’d ever want [shaking head in confusion]. And he was that way up until he killed the neighbor.”

Such retarded comments remind me of the murderer, Perry Smith, from the book In Cold Blood: “I thought Mr. Clutter was a nice man. I thought so right up until I cut his throat.”

Don’t wanna hear no more lying BS from the “confused” owner after a fatal attack about how “loyal” and “sweet-natured” his perpetually loose animals are. I, for one, would like to see ALL pit bulls neutered and when the last killer dies it will be a felony to own one in the United States. After all these vicious attacks across the board, any homo sapien that cannot see the merit of such a law must have more loose screws than a hardware store in an earthquake.


On a happier note: Chicken lovers of Charlotte County rejoice! Our local government will allow us to keep chickens as pets, limit three per chicken lover. Although I will not rush right out and get myself three chickens, there are those who will. As strange as it might sound, some of my happiest moments as a child were spent feeding, watering or just watching the chickens down on my grandma’s farm. When helping grandma with some drudgery (like snapping beans or shelling peas) I would seat myself under the little cottonwood and watch the goings and comings of a hundred or more chickens. After a time, I found those hours to be not only entertaining, but very restful. Chickens are actually extremely friendly and curious if one allows them to be. Sometimes old hens would wander over to where I sat and just be social. When hens are content, they make a gentle cooing sound. Each old clucker has a distinct personality, or chickenality. As far as a “pecking order,” too true. Always sad to see the lowest little hen on that pecking order for she truly was an outcast and had to really hump for her living.


Three swims? . . . one day? . . . third degree sunburn? . . . priceless. The first dip was up at Blind Pass during my bike ride; another dunk was across the road on my air mattress at noon; and finally, another was with my boobed and bootied bikini-clad beauty at five p.m. As a result, I got a pretty good skin sizz. I actually imagined that I had a decent tan and that frying would not be an issue. Wrong!


 Thought For the Day