Shopping Dogs (Dancing with Dogs, part 1)

This is a list of dog rules. If you own a dog, you already knew most of these. I posted a similar pic on my Facebook awhile back, and my friend Marissa noted that the rules were the same for her small child. Dogs are essentially the same as children, with the benefit that dogs will remain children and not become teenagers.

My three dogs follow me around like obedient children, for no other reason than they think I am a fairly cool human. And the occasional treat is a bonus, especially if it is derived from a pig (or some other "tasty" animal).

There willingness to follow can humorous, and a problem on occasion. Convenience stores are fun - the look on peoples faces when they realize that there are three small dogs with their noses pressed against the glass door looking in is often funny, as is the comments that may follow.

Problematic too. Just the other day I attempted to do some quick shopping at a local grocery store. I was with a friend and her children, and she graciously agreed to watch the dogs as I went in, with her kids to pick up a few items - and treats for all the kids, 4 and 2 legged alike. Well, I had just selected a tray of eggs that were acceptable (i.e. unbroken) when the announcement over the intercom requested that the "owner of three small dogs please come to the self-checkout."

My first thought was Heidi was watching my dogs. My second thought was "what are the odds that someone else came to the store with three little dogs?" Not very good. It had to be my kids, and as I reached the self-checkout, the store manager was herding Sarah (my female) out the door towards Heidi and the boys, who had been placed in a shopping cart. The boys, not Heidi.

The kids decided to follow me in, and after entering the store, were unable to locate me. My scent, no doubt, had been masked by the alluring smell of fresh pizza (topped with pig derivatives) coming from the deli.

Knowing my kids, had they not been apprehended upon entry, it would have been conceivably possible that I would have come around the aisle and found them pushing a shopping cart loaded with hot dogs and pig products. Such are my kids. But I digress.

So, how hard can it be to watch three little dogs??? I was about to ask Heidi this question, when I realized that I had just lost her kids in the grocery store.

They were quickly located, pushing a shopping cart full of sugar-based products.

Children are essentially dogs, that eventually become teenagers.

Science vs. Luck

This was an article that ran in the Herald some 140 years ago. My thanks to Samuel Clement for bringing it to my attention. 

 

Friday, April 1st, 1870 - At that time, in Washington State (said the Hon. Mr. Knott M. C.), the law was very strict against what it termed "games of chance." About a dozen of the boys were detected playing poker for money, and the grand jury found a true bill against them. Jim Sturgis was retained to defend them when the case came up, of course. The more he studied over the matter and looked into the evidence, the plainer it was that he must lose a case at last -- there was no getting around that painful fact. Those boys had certainly been betting money on a game of chance. Even public sympathy was roused in behalf of Sturgis. People said it was a pity to see him mar his successful career with a big prominent case like this, which must go against him.

But after several restless nights an inspired idea flashed upon Sturgis, and he sprang out of bed delighted. He thought he saw his way through. The next day he whispered around a little among his clients and a few friends, and then when the case came up in court he acknowledged the poker and the betting, and, as his sole defence, had the astounding effrontery to put in the plea that poker was not a game of chance! There was the broadest sort of a smile all over the faces of that sophisticated audience. The judge smiled with the rest. But Sturgis maintained a countenance whose earnestness was even severe. The opposite counsel tried to ridicule him out of his position, and did not succeed. The judge jested in a ponderous judicial way about the thing, but did not move him. The matter was becoming grave. The judge lost a little of his patience, and said the joke had gone far enough. Jim Sturgis said he knew of no joke in the matter -- his clients could not be punished for indulging in what some people chose to consider a game of chance, until it was proven that it was a game of chance. Judge and counsel said that would be an easy matter, and forthwith called Deacons Job, Peters, Burke, and Johnson, and Dominies Wirt and Miggles, to testify; and they unanimously and with strong feeling put down the legal quibble of Sturgis, by pronouncing that poker was a game of chance.

"What do you call it now!" said the judge.

"I call it a game of science!" retorted Sturgis; "and I'll prove it, too!"

They saw his little game.

He brought in a cloud of witnesses, and produced an overwhelming mass of testimony, to show that poker was not a game of chance, but a game of science.

Instead of being the simplest case in the world, it had somehow turned out to be an excessively knotty one. The judge scratched his head over it a while, and said there was no way of coming to a determination, because just as many men could be brought into court who would testify on one side, as could be found to testify on the other. But he said he was willing to do the fair thing by all parties, and would act upon any suggestion Mr. Sturgis would make for the solution of the difficulty.

Mr. Sturgis was on his feet in a second:

"Impanel a jury of six of each, Luck versus Science -- give them candles and a couple of decks of cards, send them into the jury room, and just abide by the result!"

There was no disputing the fairness of the proposition. The four deacons and the two dominies were sworn in as the "chance" jurymen, and six inveterate old poker players were chosen to represent the "science" side of the issue. They retired to the jury room.

In about two hours, Deacon Peters sent into court to borrow three dollars from a friend. [Sensation.] In about two hours more, Dominie Miggles sent into court to borrow a "stake" from a friend. [Sensation.] During the next three or four hours, the other dominie and the other deacons sent into court for small loans. And still the packed audience waited, for it was a prodigious occasion in Bull's Corners, and one in which every father of a family was necessarily interested.

The rest of the story can be told briefly. About daylight the jury came in, and Deacon Job, the foreman, read the following

VERDICT.

We, the jury in the case of the State of Washington vs. John Wheeler et al., have carefully considered the points of the case, and tested the merits of the several theories advanced, and do hereby unanimously decide that the game commonly known as poker is eminently a game of science and not of chance. In demonstration whereof, it is hereby and herein stated, iterated, reiterated, set forth, and made manifest, that, during the entire night, the "chance" men never won a game or turned a jack, although both feats were common and frequent to the opposition; and further more, in support of this our verdict, we call attention to the significant fact that the "chance" men are all busted, and the "science" men have got the money. It is the deliberate opinion of this jury that the "chance" theory concerning poker is a pernicious doctrine, and calculated to inflict untold suffering and pecuniary loss upon any community that takes stock in it.

"That is the way that poker came to be set apart and particularized in the statute books of Washington as being a game not of chance but of science, and therefore not punishable under the law," said Mr. Knott. "That verdict is of record, and holds good to this day."

The Court-Martial of Airman First Class Douglas M Barnes

I am proud to say that I am a veteran of the U.S.Air Force. I did six weeks of basic training at Lackland AFB, Texas, and then eight month at Keesler AFB, Mississippi, for electronics school. The Air Force has the shortest basic training (6 weeks) of all the armed forces, the reason being that the Air Force continues "basic-style training" in tech school. This is OK for many career fields, such as administrative specialists, who go to school for only a few weeks. Electronic schools ranged from six months to a year. My school was eight month, and although the training was not as strict, it got old quickly.

To relieve the stress, you could get a week-end pass, which meant after duty on Friday you could leave the base and did not have to return until Sunday evening. Many of us did, and it was on such a week-end pass that the "incident" that resulted in my being court-martialed occurred.

Most of us on week-end pass took a room at the Orville Hotel, which primarily catered to Air Force students on week-end pass. Obviously, there was a fair amount of alcohol involved during the weekends, but as long as the festivities remained at an acceptable level, the night manager turned a blind eye to the heathenism. On the night that the "incident" that resulted in my being court-martialed occurred, the festivities passed the limit of acceptability, and the night manager was required to call the police.

Not the local police, but the SPs!

For those who do not know, SPs (Security Police) are Air Force Cops, the equivalent of MPs in the other branches of the military.

And it was on the night that the "incident" that resulted in my being court-martialed occurred that the SPs arrived at the Orville Hotel, and I was arrested. I was not part of the "altercation" that required the night manager to call the SPs. Those individuals were on the other side of the Orville Hotel. After the SPs apprehended the altercators, two of the six SPs (seven, if you count the Master Sergeant who oversaw the operation) made a sweep of the Orville Hotel to insure no other altercators had evaded their detection and to insure all other military personal were festivating within the limits of acceptability.




Garrison Cap

It was at this time that the "incident" that resulted in my being court-martialed occurred. I was playfully chasing a half dressed local female down the hallway. She was ahead of me, and turned the corner and disappeared from sight. I rounded the corner and found myself face to face with the two SPs. who promptly arrested me. Not for chasing the half dressed local female, which (to my knowledge) was neither against the law or violated any military regulations  (except possibly Article 134 of the UCMJ, the catch-all article). I was arrested because at the time I was chasing the half dressed local female, and came face to face with the SPs, I was only wearing my dress shoes and my garrison cap.

I was permitted to recover the rest of my clothing before I was taken back to base. I was surrendered to the duty NCO at my squadron, who promptly confined me to quarters. End of week-end pass.

The commander of our squadron was a Captain who, although an excellent administrative officer during time of peace, would not have inspired a lot of confidence during wartime. He was very punctual, and arrived at the squadron CQ at precisely oh eight hundred (that's 8 am for civilians). At oh eight ten, I was summoned to the CQ - the ten minutes included the time he needed to read the report, and drink a cup of coffee. I reported at oh eight fifteen. I was quickly ushered in to the Captains office, and the discussion began.

The "discussion" lasted 42 minutes, and was fairly one sided - my input was limited to the occasional "Yes, Sir" and "No, Sir" as required by his questions. I won't repeat the whole conversation, but the Captain did make it clear to me that my behavior embarrasses not only him, but the squadron, the base, the Air Force, the military as a whole, the President (Ronald Reagan), God, and my country.

The Captain was, however, not entirely correct. The squadron, being composed mostly of beer-drinking airmen in student status, was actually proud of my behavior, but I felt it prudent not to inform the Captain of his error. And I doubt Ronald Reagan ever knew who I was.

The "discussion" concluded with the Captain handing me the paperwork for an Article 15. The charge: Improper wear of the uniform in violation of Air Force regulation 35-10.

All GIs are subject to the Uniform Code of Military Justice, or UCMJ. An article 15 is a non-judicial punishment (NJP) in the United States Armed Forces is a form of military justice authorized by Article 15 of the UCMJ. Non-judicial punishment or permits commanders to administratively discipline troops without a court-martial. Punishment can range from reprimand to reduction in rank, correctional custody, loss of pay, extra duty, and/or restrictions. The receipt of non-judicial punishment does not constitute a criminal conviction (it's equivalent to a civil action), but is often placed in the service record of the individual.

Article 134, which I mentioned earlier, known as the General Article (or the Devil's article) reads as follows:

Though not specifically mentioned in this chapter, all disorders and neglects to the prejudice of good order and discipline in the armed forces, all conduct of a nature to bring discredit upon the armed forces, and crimes and offenses not capital, of which persons subject to this chapter may be guilty, shall be taken cognizance of by a general, special, or summary court-martial, according to the nature and degree of the offense, and shall be punished at the discretion of that court.

Or translated into simple English: Even though we do not have a specific rule against it, if you did it, and we don't like what you did, you are in trouble.

But I digress.

One is not obligated to accept an Article 15, but it is usually a good idea because the next step is a court-martial. Usually, the person who is being offered the article 15 is guilty, and by taking the article 15 he will receive a lighter sentence than if he wasted everyone's time with a court martial. For those of you with experience with the court system, it is more or less the equivalent of a plea bargain.

I, however, did not accept the article 15.

"With due respect," I said. "Am I correct in believing that I am not  required to accept this?"

The Captain looked at me, somewhat confused. The possibility that I would not hadn't occurred to him, and he was a bit unprepared on how to proceed.

"You are aware, Airman, that if you refuse, this will proceed to court-martial?"

"Yes, Sir" I replied.

The discussion continued another 8 minutes, with the Captain urging me to reconsider. He even switched from "commander to subordinate" mode to more of a "kindly uncle giving good advice" mode, but I held firm. Finally, he was forced to concede defeat, and I was dismissed.

I was invited to the JAG officer two days later, where I met with a JAG officer, who explained the procedure of the court-martial. I won't go into the details. The officer told me that I was entitled to legal council, which I refused. I told him I would represent myself.

The look on his face was, well, unique. He went straight to "kindly uncle giving good advice" mode (something about "defending yourself" and "fool for a client"), but I held my ground, and like the commander he gave up, and I was dismissed.

The court-martial occurred one week later - military justice is swift. As I entered the room, I realized a slight flaw in my defence plan. I was told by the JAG officer that I would be tried by a jury of my peers. My definition of "peers" were 9 beer-drinking airmen in student status. The jury I was facing did not contained a single student! In fact, it was entirely NCOs, ranging from a buck sergeant on his second term to a Senior Master Sergeant approaching his 30th year on active duty.

I was formally charged with improper wear of the uniform in violation of Air Force regulation 35-10. The prosecutor presented his case to the court, detailing my actions. The evidence was primarily written statements, two from the SPs who arrested me, one from the Orville Hotel night manager, and one from the half dressed local female I was chasing at the time of my arrest (apparently, the SPs caught up with her, something I failed  to do). He concluded by stating just how my actions embarrassed the base, the Air Force, and the military as a whole - much as my commander had, except he left out my squadron and Ronald Reagan.

My own defence was short, and went like this:

"Gentlemen. I have never disputed the facts in the case presented against me. I do freely admit that the events presented by the prosecutor did in fact occur. However, I dispute that any wrong doing occurred. The charges against me are that I was in violation of Air Force Regulation 35-10, improper wear of the uniform. Section 42 of the regulation, covering athletics, does allow for exceptions to the uniform regulations. Where as I was indeed only wearing dress shoes and a garrison cap at the time of my arrest, in accordance to paragraph 5 I was dressed appropriately for the sporting event to which I was participating."

I was acquitted in 9 minutes, which probably included the time needed by the jury to drink a cup of coffee.

The JAG officer told me later that, to the best of his knowledge, that was a new record.

Where are the Aliens?

On a clear night, my dogs and I like to go outside and look at the stars. Especially during the colder month. Not that we like to go outside and freeze our tails. Au contraire, but it is in the colder month that or favorite constellation, Orion the Hunter, can be seen.

Orion is the most readily recognized constellation, perhaps the most well know, and in the opinion of my youngest dog, Macky Rae, it is the awesomest of the constellations. If you have never seen it, go check it out. And I don't mean look it up on Wikipedia, actually go outside and look. But wait until it gets dark - it works better that way.

Macky Rae loves the story of Orion (that you can look up on  Wikipedia, and he never gets tired of hearing it (although I get tired of telling it, sometimes).

Being a dog, Macky Rae is fond of the fact that Orion is a dog owner. If you look left of Orion, there are two bright stars, Sirius and Procyon, which are also know as "the dog stars" - although Macky (being only 2 years old, as well as being a dog), having  problems pronouncing Sirius and Procyon, calls them "Big Dan" and "Little Anne" (something from one of my girlfriend's movies that he watched).

The other evening, while out stargazing, Macky Rae looked up at me and asked "Hey Dad, are there really Aliens in space?

"I don't know" I replied. "But I hope so."

"Me too," he responded "otherwise space is going to be very boring."

Macky Rae enjoys science, and is a big fan of Star Trek, and Science Fiction in General. He is also fond of Dog Movies, "1950s Era Black and White Giant Insect Films," and (thanks to Aunt Amy) Zombie Flicks. And what Macky Rae wants to know (as do many of us) is this: is there anybody out there?

Are there really aliens?

 

Scientist have looked and listen for evidence of intelligent life in space, and so far they have come up with nothing. Actually, that's not completely true. There is evidence of intelligent life on a planet found orbiting a class G2 star. Known as "The Earth," scientists and philosophers debate as to whether the dominant life form there is actually intelligent (or even dominant).

It is probable that there are other planets out there, and that they could (under the right conditions) support life. And if they could support life, life could evolve into intelligent life. We can only guess as to how often this occurs in the Galaxy, but we do know for certain that it has occurred at least once (on our planet).

We do now know that there are planets around other stars. A total of 861 such planets (in 677 planetary systems, including 128 multiple planetary systems) have been identified as of March 1, 2013. The Kepler mission has detected over 18,000 additional candidates, including potentially 262 habitable ones. In the Milky Way galaxy, it is expected that there are many billions of planets (at least one planet, on average, orbiting around each star, resulting in 100–400 billion exoplanets).

The way they detect extrasolar planets is complex, but simplified what they do is detect and measure variations in the motion and position of the star, and based on the wobble they can determine if the star has a planet (or planets). At first, they could only detect large (Jupiter sized) planets,, but as technology improved, smaller earth sized planets could be detected. Wow. They can even determine where the planet orbits, and if it is at the right distance from the star to be in the "Cinderella zone," the region around a star within which it is theoretically possible for a planet with sufficient atmospheric pressure to maintain liquid water on its surface. To close and the water boils, too far and it freezes solid. Life can only exist between these two limits: not too hot, not too cold, just right.

But a question I have is this: if we can find planets billions and billions of miles away, why did it take so long to find Osama Bin Laden? If NASA had turned the Hubble telescope around, we would have had that sumbitch before the twin towers stopped smoking.

The are estimated to be as many as 400,000,000,000 planets in the Milky Way Galaxy. It's a big number, until you you compare it to the national debt. If only 1 in 100 had a planet that could support life, we are left with 4,000,000,000. If 1 in 100 had life, we have 40,000,000. And if only 1 in 100 had intelligent life, we have 400,000 alien races which could build a culture that could venture out into space.

So, where are the aliens?

 

Star Trek, and Science Fiction in general, promised us aliens. OK, not exactly promised, but implied that we would be meeting aliens soon. So far, I have not met so much as one alien. In our calculations (above) we arrived at 400,000 aliens. Where are they? and why have they not contacted us?

 

It is possible that we are the first to venture off our planet of birth and venture out into space. After all, someone has to be first, but the odds are against it (400,000 to 1).

 

Erich von Däniken, author of Chariots of the Gods (and other books) believes that the aliens have already been here, and left - and that it was ancient astronauts that influenced our ancient mythology. And it was the they, not humans, who built such monumental feats as the Great Pyramids. His "proof," however, was flimsy and (in some cases) fraudulent. So his theory is discarded, and we resubmit the theory that ancient Egyptians built the pyramids.

Some believe that aliens are here, and that the government is hiding them. Considering what gets leaked to the press, I doubt that the government could hide something as big as aliens.

Or perhaps they are here hiding from us. Or hiding in plain site. There are some parts of the larger cities where an alien could easily go unnoticed amongst the "freaky people" (or perhaps the "freaky people" are the aliens).

So, where are the aliens?

I have a theory:
Any alien species that could cross the vast distances between stars would have to be more advanced than our own. Consider the technological differences between now and 1913. And that was a difference of only 100 years. Aliens would be hundreds, thousands, maybe tens of thousands of years more advanced than us.

Such a race that could travel the vast distances between the stars would not have to land on the Earth, or even contact us. All they would need to do is tap into one of our communication satellites and download the Internet. All of it, and in less than a minute! Being hundreds, thousands, or tens of thousands of years more advanced than us, their computers are also more advanced.

After downloading the Internet, they would use their super computer to analyze the Internet. This will take them about a day, unless they return to their homeworld and use their super duper computer,  in which case the analysis will only require two hours. Either way homo sapiens (humans) would be assessed - based entirely on our web pages!

This is what bothers me. Consider the Internet, and just how much porn sites there are available. Not just good porn, but bad porn, and icky porn, and worse. The aliens will see this and decide we are a planet of deviants.

This may already have occurred!

Somewhere, just beyond the orbit of Pluto, they may have left a warning beacon, transmitting to other aliens who may approach our solar system:  Attention! In accordance with Megan's Law, be advises that the inhabitants of the third planet have been classified as sexual deviants.

If  we ever discover interstellar travel and meet aliens, we won't be allowed near their children.



 

Guest Blogger: Benjamin Franklin on Flatulence

I did not write this.

This essay was composed c.1781 in response to a call for scientific papers from the Royal Academy of Brussels. Franklin believed that the various academic societies in Europe were increasingly pretentious and concerned with the impractical. Revealing his "bawdy, scurrilous side," Franklin responded with an essay suggesting that research and practical reasoning be undertaken into methods of improving the odor of human flatulence.

A Letter To A Royal Academy

 

Gentlemen,

I Have perused your late mathematical Prize Question, proposed in lieu of one in Natural Philosophy, for the ensuing year, viz. "Une figure quelconque donnée, on demande d'y inscrire le plus grand nombre de fois possible une autre figure plus-petite quelconque, qui est aussi donnée". I was glad to find by these following Words, "l'Académie a jugee que cette découverte, en étendant les bornes de nos connoissances, ne seroit pas sans UTILITE", that you esteem Utility an essential Point in your Enquiries, which has not always been the case with all Academies; and I conclude therefore that you have given this Question instead of a philosophical, or as the Learned express it, a physical one, because you could not at the time think of a physical one that promis'd greater Utility.

Permit me then humbly to propose one of that sort for your consideration, and through you, if you approve it, for the serious Enquiry of learned Physicians, Chemists, &c. of this enlightened Age. It is universally well known, That in digesting our common Food, there is created or produced in the Bowels of human Creatures, a great Quantity of Wind.

That the permitting this Air to escape and mix with the Atmosphere, is usually offensive to the Company, from the fetid Smell that accompanies it.

That all well-bred People therefore, to avoid giving such Offence, forcibly restrain the Efforts of Nature to discharge that Wind.

That so retain'd contrary to Nature, it not only gives frequently great present Pain, but occasions future Diseases, such as habitual Cholics, Ruptures, Tympanies, &c. often destructive of the Constitution, & sometimes of Life itself.

Were it not for the odiously offensive Smell accompanying such Escapes, polite People would probably be under no more Restraint in discharging such Wind in Company, than they are in spitting, or in blowing their Noses.

My Prize Question therefore should be, To discover some Drug wholesome & not disagreable, to be mix'd with our common Food, or Sauces, that shall render the natural Discharges of Wind from our Bodies, not only inoffensive, but agreable as Perfumes.

That this is not a chimerical Project, and altogether impossible, may appear from these Considerations. That we already have some Knowledge of Means capable of Varying that Smell. He that dines on stale Flesh, especially with much Addition of Onions, shall be able to afford a Stink that no Company can tolerate; while he that has lived for some Time on Vegetables only, shall have that Breath so pure as to be insensible to the most delicate Noses; and if he can manage so as to avoid the Report, he may any where give Vent to his Griefs, unnoticed. But as there are many to whom an entire Vegetable Diet would be inconvenient, and as a little Quick-Lime thrown into a Jakes will correct the amazing Quantity of fetid Air arising from the vast Mass of putrid Matter contain'd in such Places, and render it rather pleasing to the Smell, who knows but that a little Powder of Lime (or some other thing equivalent) taken in our Food, or perhaps a Glass of Limewater drank at Dinner, may have the same Effect on the Air produc'd in and issuing from our Bowels? This is worth the Experiment. Certain it is also that we have the Power of changing by slight Means the Smell of another Discharge, that of our Water. A few Stems of Asparagus eaten, shall give our Urine a disagreable Odour; and a Pill of Turpentine no bigger than a Pea, shall bestow on it the pleasing Smell of Violets. And why should it be thought more impossible in Nature, to find Means of making a Perfume of our Wind than of our Water?

For the Encouragement of this Enquiry, (from the immortal Honour to be reasonably expected by the Inventor) let it be considered of how small Importance to Mankind, or to how small a Part of Mankind have been useful those Discoveries in Science that have heretofore made Philosophers famous. Are there twenty Men in Europe at this Day, the happier, or even the easier, for any Knowledge they have pick'd out of Aristotle? What Comfort can the Vortices of Descartes give to a Man who has Whirlwinds in his Bowels! The Knowledge of Newton's mutual Attraction of the Particles of Matter, can it afford Ease to him who is rack'd by their mutual Repulsion, and the cruel Distensions it occasions? The Pleasure arising to a few Philosophers, from seeing, a few Times in their Life, the Threads of Light untwisted, and separated by the Newtonian Prism into seven Colours, can it be compared with the Ease and Comfort every Man living might feel seven times a Day, by discharging freely the Wind from his Bowels? Especially if it be converted into a Perfume: For the Pleasures of one Sense being little inferior to those of another, instead of pleasing the Sight he might delight the Smell of those about him, & make Numbers happy, which to a benevolent Mind must afford infinite Satisfaction. The generous Soul, who now endeavours to find out whether the Friends he entertains like best Claret or Burgundy, Champagne or Madeira, would then enquire also whether they chose Musk or Lilly, Rose or Bergamot, and provide accordingly. And surely such a Liberty of Expressing one's Scent-iments, and pleasing one another, is of infinitely more Importance to human Happiness than that Liberty of the Press, or of abusing one another, which the English are so ready to fight & die for. — In short, this Invention, if compleated, would be, as Bacon expresses it, bringing Philosophy home to Mens Business and Bosoms. And I cannot but conclude, that in Comparison therewith, for universal and continual UTILITY, the Science of the Philosophers abovementioned, even with the Addition, Gentlemen, of your "Figure quelconque" and the Figures inscrib'd in it, are, all together, scarcely worth a FART-HING.

Lottery Tickets, Giant Redwoods, and Pirates

Ever now and then, when I have an extra dollar in my pocket, I buy a lottery ticket. My three dogs help me, each one picks two numbers, and I pick one.

Hold on, you are probably saying. 3 dogs times 2 numbers plus 1 more equals 7. There are only six lottery numbers.

This is true. But Macky Rae, my youngest dog, is fond of the number 4, so this is always his first pick. It is also his second pick as well. He is somewhat unclear on the concept of picking to different numbers, especially since 4 is such a good number. Thus I have to pick a seventh number to complete our ticket.

The odds of us winning are not really good, roughly 7,000,000 to 1. Statistically speaking, one is more likely to be struck by lightning (which would make an interesting news story: a man wins the lottery, collects his winnings, and gets struck by lightning). So why do we buy lottery tickets?

Well, for one the odds of winning without buying a ticket are a lot worse. For another, we enjoy planning what we will do if we actually do win a big jackpot. Our big plan is to buy an RV and travel around the country and see cool places and things. Our first stop is the Redwood National Park in California. This may not seem all that exciting, but for a dog the opportunity to pee on a giant Sequoia is a fantasy come true. Considering the size of these trees, it will be an all day event, and I will need to bring extra bottles of water so everyone is fully charged for the event.

Now an interesting fact regarding lotteries is the overall payout. In Washington State, the payout is 60%, which means for every dollar taken in, 60¢ is payed out. It was 50% when the lottery first started out. In the casinos, the payout is much greater. In Vegas, the worst game (Keno) pays 75%, most all the other games payout over 90%! The government pays 60%, the mob pays 95%?

But I digress.

The other morning, while drinking coffee, Macky Rae came up to me and said "Hey, Dad! I know what we can do if we win the lottery. We can be pirates!!"

We will go and buy a ship - a real pirate ship, made out of wood with canvas sails and cannons. We will load the cargo hold with food and doggie treats, set sail and roam the Caribbean. When we spy and unsuspecting merchant vessel, we will slip up beside them, lean over the railing, and bark at them.

"Just bark at them? Aren't we suppose to board them and steal there cargo"

"No, Dad. That would be mean, and we are not mean dogs"

"Then why the cannons?"

"Decorations."

"Then how are we suppose to make a living?"

"Dad, we won the lottery, remember?"

"And what do we do between merchant vessels?"

"We watch TV."

Apparently, we are going to install a satellite dish on the ship. Not traditional for pirates, but we must adapt to modern times. I assume we will also have an internet connection, so we can check our email and our Facebook accounts.

"So we just sail around the Caribbean?" I asked him.

"Until our food runs out, them we go to our homeport and restock our cargo holds."

"We have a homeport?"

"Of course we do, Dad. All pirates have a homeport."

"Where is ours?"

"St Martin. I looked it up on wikipedia, and picked it because I knew you would like it."

"And why is that?"

"Because of the nude beaches"

I love that little dog.

Introduction to Dances With Dogs

For those who don't know me, my name is Doug. For those that do, my name is still Doug.

This blog is about humor, usually off the wall, possibly bizarre, and more often than not "outside the box." Sort of a mixture of Monty Python, Kurt Vonnegut, George Carlin, and Douglas Adams written by myself with the help of my little dogs.

This blog was started when me, and my dogs were homeless and living on the street. It was a great way to keep my sanity whilst in a unpleasant situation.

And in case you are concerned: We are now no longer living on the street, thanks to the V.A.. We have a place to live, food, and there is even a nurse who comes and checks on me once a month. So we're all doing good

For those who don't know, I have three Chipoms (Chihuahua-Pomeranian mix).

• Freedom (my oldest) is laid back and casual, preferring to sit back and observe the world. He is intellectual, well read, and is currently working on his first novel.
• Sarah (my female) is somewhat sarcastic, but she prefers to see herself as a realist. Often blunt, she believe that one should "call a cat a cat."
• Macky Rae (my youngest) is my computer guru and research assistant. He enjoys science, and is a big fan of Star Trek (and Science Fiction in General. He is also fond of Dog Movies, "1950s Era Black and White Giant Insect Films," and Zombie Flicks.

There are types of posts on my blog: True posts, mostly true posts, partially true posts, and untrue posts. And complete silliness. It will be up to you to to determine what type of blog post each one is (the last one should be easy to determine).

Some of the reoccuring themes are:

• Dog say the Darnedest Things. Conversations with, and between my dogs.
• G.I.Stories. Funny things that happened while I was on active duty in the Air Force.
• The Bible as Comedy. See below

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In addition to the variety of subjects I covered in this blog, I have on occasion covered a subject I call The Bible as Comedy. These are not intended to be disrespectful to God, Jesus, Holy Spirit, or any biblical person (living or dead).

If you are offended, I'm sorry.

Me and my dogs like God. We believe God has a sense of humor. He'd have to, if he puts up with us humans.

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Currently, a new entry is published on the 4th, 14th, and the 24th. Roughly.

Sometimes I am a day, or two late.

And who knows, this blog might get picked up by a publisher and get syndicated, and I might get paid for it.

It could happen.