Call of the Wild

I blame The History Channel.

February as most of you already know is (or was) Black History Month (and if you didn't know that, now you do) and as a result The History Channel is showed a lot of programs about black history.

Macky Rae, my youngest dog, watches a lot of TV. He enjoys science (especially PBS documentary on dogs and/or wolves), science fiction, (he is a big fan of Star Trek), "1950s Era Black and White Giant Insect Films," and (thanks to Aunt Amy) Zombie Flicks.

And the History Channel.

He enjoys educational programing to some extent, which is OK. But after several weeks of documentaries of the civil rights movement, Macky came to a sudden (erroneous) realization:

Dogs were being oppressed.

MACKY: Dad, I need to talk to you.

When your dog, or child, says something like this, you know it's going to be good. Especially when his back legs are rigidly locked in the "alpha dog" stance.

ME: What can I do for you?

MACKY: I am tired of being 'sploited.

ME: Sploited?

MACKY: Yes, 'sploited.

FREEDOM: I think he means exploited.

MACKY: That's what I said, 'sploited.

Macky then explained to me how dogs were "enslaved" a jillion years ago (his words, not mine) and do you know who's to blame?

The "man."

Seriously? This was one a wolf?

FYI: The origin of the domestic dog (Canis lupus familiaris) began with the domestication of the Grey Wolf (Canis lupus) several thousand years ago, arising at the latest 15,000 years ago and possibly as early as 33,000 years ago. Domesticated dogs provided early humans with a guard animal and a beast of burden. The process continues to this day, with the intentional artificial selection and cross-breeding of dogs to create new breeds of dogs.

Cats, however were never enslaved. The just sort of moved in on us, much like that women you picked up at the bar one weekend, then wound up dating her for almost a year because she never would leave.

In his newly discovered awareness of species exploitation, he has informed me that:

• He says he will no longer answer to his "slave" name, and insists on being called Macky X
  
  ...and curiosity got the better of me, so I had to ask why:

ME: Why the "X"?

MACKY: "X" replaces the human slavemaster name of "Rae" which some devil had imposed upon me.

ME: I named you that!

SARAH: Dad is a devil?

FREEDOM: Who would have guessed?

MACKY: "X" represents the unknown name of our Canine ancestors and their heritage that has been lost to us.

SARAH: We have a lost heritage?

ME: What heritage? You're dogs!

MACKY: Before we were "dogs", we were wolves! Our true culture has been denied us because of servitude to humans.

SARAH: We are part Chihuahua. That makes us Hispanics. That's a culture.

MACKY: We're tired of being treated as second class citizens.

ME: You think you are being mistreated?

MACKY: We are being 'sploited!

ME: Who is "we?"

MACKY: "We" are the Canine-Americans!

• He decided that he does not like the word "dog" (the D-word) - it has negative connotations. He prefers the term "Canine-Americans".

ME: You mean "dogs."

MACKY: We prefer the term "Canine-Americans."

I put the question to my other two dogs Canine-Americans

ME: Do either one of you Canine Americans feel exploited as well.

SARAH: Maybe. What are we having for dinner?

ME: I was about to go to the store and get some pork chops.

FREEDOM: I don't feel exploited.

SARAH: Me neither.

MACKY: Well, I do!!

FREEDOM: Can I have his pork chop then?

MACKY: I refused to be 'sploited any longer! From now on, I will not bring you the newspaper from the front porch.

ME: We don't get the paper. I read the news on line.

MACKY: And I will not fetch your slippers.

ME: I don't wear slippers.

MACKY: It's a good thing, because if you did I would not fetch them for you!

ME: I am going to the store. Anything I should pick up while I'm out?

FREEDOM: Bacon.

ME: Anything else?

SARAH: More Bacon.

He was also wearing a black Che Guavara
-style beret, except instead of a red star, it
had a red paw print. I'm assuming that he
couldn't find fatigues in his size.

I was gone for about an hour, shopping for dinner. When I returned, he was no longer Macky X. He was Macky Lopez.

The Hispanic surname Lopez, in case you did not know, comes from the Latin word for "wolf" (lupus), and I assumed that Macky had chosen it to reflect his Wolfen roots as well as his Hispanic roots.

I was wrong.

MACKY: No, Dad. I chose it because of George Lopez. I like him. He is funny.

SARAH: Is that the guy who did Star Wars?

FREEDOM: No, That was George Lucas. George Lopez is a comedian. He had the TV Series with the "Low Rider" song at the beginning.

SARAH: Oh, yeah. I like him. He's funny.

The revolution is not an apple that falls when it is ripe. You have to make it fall.

MACKY: I am revolting!

SARAH: Yes, you are. 

MACKY: That is not funny!

FREEDOM: Then why am I laughing?

MACKY: As Canine-Americans, we need to return to our roots.

ME: Wouldn't that mean living outside?

MACKY: I guess so.

SARAH: I am not living outside.

ME: Do you remember when we went camping last summer? You were afraid to come out of the tent because you thought there were bears.

MACKY: There were bears! I heard them! They were going through the garbage cans.

@#$%!!!

ME: Those weren't bears. They were raccoons.

FREEDOM: Nature's dumpster-divers.

SARAH: Raccoons are so uncouth. And they have potty mouths.

ME: They do?

SARAH: Didn't you hear what they were saying?

ME: I don't speak raccoon.

SARAH: It's a good thing. They talk worse than Eminem! 

FREEDOM: Nature's rap stars.

The things you learn from your pets.

ME: How do you plan to eat?

MACKY: I will go hunting.

ME: For what?

MACKY: Deers.

ME: Your going to hunt deer?

SARAH: The deer would kick his ass.

MACKY: That's what wolves eat. I saw it on TV.

ME: Did you not notice that wolves hunt in packs?

MACKY: Then I will join a wolf pack.

SARAH: The wolves would kick his ass.

FREEDOM: Maybe he could dumpster dive with the raccoons.

SARAH: The raccoons would kick his ass.

MACKY: And I would eat Salmons.

ME: How are you going to catch a salmon without a fishing pole?

MACKY: You don't need a fishing pole. All you have to do is wade into the river and smack the salmons onto the river bank, just like the bears do.

FREEDOM: The bears will kick his ass.

SARAH: The salmon will kick his ass.

ME: I got an idea. Let's try an experiment and see if you can live outside

MACKY: O.K.

ME: Tonight, you can camp out in the backyard.

MACKY: O.K. and I will show you that I can be a wolf.

So, we went outside and set up the tent...

Yes, a "pup" tent.

...and we collected some of his "stuff": his comic books, his flashlight, and his radio, and set him up in the tent.

And I was nice, and I didn't mention that if he was a wolf, there wouldn't be a tents, comic books, flashlights, or radios in the wild.

And I even gave him one of the pork-chops to eat before he went out to camp, and a ziplock bag with chewy treats for an evening snack.

Around 9:45, I heard the TV in the other room, which was odd because the other two dogs were on the sofa, playing gin-rummy.

ME: Who's watching T.V.?

SARAH: Macky.

ME: I thought he was going to camp out all night?

SARAH: He came back inside because is flashlight went dead.

FREEDOM: The darkness kicked his ass.

The Jameson Story

With St Patrick's day being the 17th, I will tell an Irish (whiskey) tale:

It was a cold January night, late in the evening. I had just gotten of work, and decided on a drink before I went home.

And no, this is not a DUI story. I didn't have a car at the time, and even if I did I would not have gone over the limit. And if I had, I would have been under the limit before I got into my car. I have never driven under the influence.

Well OK, once.

Technically twice.

---

The first time was in '85. I was in the Air Force then, stationed in Kelly AFB (San Antonio, TX). There was a new dance club opening (in town, not on base), and where as I do not dance I felt compelled to attend the Grand Opening as they were advertising free drinks.

There should be a law against advertising free drinks in a military town.

Needless to say, I was not the only GI who heard the radio ads. But the drinks were free. There was a free buffet as well. And free drinks.

Did I mention free drinks?

There were people dancing (hence the term "dance-club" and others were buffeting at the buffet. Me, I just ordered my drink, and went back to the end of the line so by the time I had finished it, I was at the front again.

Did I mention the drinks were free?

So I knew I was over the limit, but I didn't want to leave my car so I drove it back. To the base. If you have never lived on, or been to, a Military base, they have gates, manned by Security Police.

For the most part, driving onto base was routine. The security police would examine the vehicle, check for the authorizing base decal, check out the driver and (if they recognize you) wave you through (this was before 9/11). And most of the SPs knew me as the Sps lived on the same floor of the dormitory as my unit, and I drank with many of them. So I just figured whoever was on gate duty would recognize me, and just wave me through.

Not this night.

The problem was my car,  formerly owned by a GI who had been transferred to Germany and didn't want to a)take his car with him or b) store his car until he returned. He opted to sell it instead. I bought it for $750 (good deal).

Except the guy I bought it from was a know drunk.

So instead of getting waved through, I got stopped. The Guard (not one of my drinking buddies) recognized the vehicle, which had up until I bought it been required to be parked just outside the main gate, in a parking lot know as the "drunk lot." GIs (such as the vehicles former owner) who got busted DUI could drive on base, and thus had to leave there cars in the "drunk lot."

So not knowing the former owner was in Germany, and that the car (now mine) was allowed on base stopped me. And I an two, maybe three sheets to the wind.

Sounds like the car is about to go back to the "drunk lot" doesn't it?

So I explain to the guard I bought the car (while trying not to look, or sound intoxicated). He wants to see the base registration. And he want me to get out of the vehicle and bring the documents to the guard shack so he can see them in the light.

I am so busted, right?

Nope!

The guard is so focused on verifying my document, he has totally missed:

• That I can't walk straight
• and I smell like a distillery

And you can imagine my surprise when, after looking over my paperwork, he hands it back to me, thanks me for my cooperation, and tells me to have a good night.

This was before 9/11. I'm sure the guards are more alert these days. 

So I was thinking maybe I'm not as drunk as I thought I was, until I started up the start to my room in the dormitory. That is until Iggy came around the corner.

This was the same Iggy mentioned in The Blizzard of '85.

Iggy informed me that I was as drunk as I thought I was (perhaps more) by exclaiming "How much did you have to drink??? I can @#$%ing smell it from here!"

I should have reported the guard for being unobservant, but then I would have had to confess to a DUI, and I didn't want to park my car in the "drunk lot."

---

The second time was around the mid 90s. At the time, I was working for the Crimson Crustacean, and by a stroke of luck I was scheduled 2 1/2 days off in a row.

I went to Portland, Oregon.

So I didn't have any idea of what I wanted to do or see. I thought Chinatown would be interesting (it was, and that in itself is another story entirely) so I parked my car, fed the meter, and wandered around in Chinatown, and then the downtown Portland area.

It was summer, and hot, so I found a few watering hole and had a beer. By the time my touring was winding down, I had a few too many beers. It was getting near 6pm, and if you have ever been to Portland you would know that the downtown area becomes a ghost town by 6pm, as all the business peoples have gone home.

Now, my first thought would have been to go to a coffee shop, and there are a plethora of coffee shops in downtown Portland, and they all close by 6. Therefor, sitting it out in a coffee shop was out, so I decided to find store that was still open ,buy a soda, and go sit in my car for a while until I was unfuzzy.

So I get in my car, put the ignition in auxiliary, tune the radio to the local Rock station, lean the seat back and jam out while I drank my soda.

That's when the cop showed up.

So as I said I am sitting in my (parked) car, jamming to some tunes on the radio when  I look in my rear view mirror, and notice that a police officer  was approaching my car.

No problem, I think to myself. I ain't doing anything.

So he comes up to my window and says "I've driven by a couple of times, and noticed that you are just sitting here. Is something wrong?"

"Yes" I responded. "I am too intoxicated to drive"

Now, in any other city, that would have got me arrested. Intoxicated, inside the vehicles, keys in the ignition (never mind it was only in the auxiliary position so I could play the radio) - that is, legally, DUI.

So the police officer, slightly caught off-guard by the comment glanced over at the meter and , seeing it still had time, told me to "feel free to sit until I was able to drive."

No arrest, no hand cuffs. Only in Portland.

So anyhow, back to the Jameson story:

It was a cold January night, late in the evening. I had just gotten of work, and decided on a drink before I went home. There was a bar and mini-casino across from the restaurant I was working at, which was convenient for me.

As I said, it was a cold night. There are several drinks I like when its cold, but the top of the list is Irish Coffee.

For those of you who aren't familiar with this drink:

Black coffee is poured into the mug. Whiskey and at least one level teaspoon of sugar is stirred in until fully dissolved. The sugar is essential for floating liquid cream on top. Thick cream is carefully poured over the back of a spoon initially held just above the surface of the coffee and gradually raised a little. The layer of cream will float on the coffee without mixing. The coffee is drunk through the layer of cream.

So I go it to the bar, and order an Irish Coffee, and the bartender tells me she can't make it. So I start to tell her how to make it, and she stops me and tells me that she knows how to make it, she can't make it - no Irish Whiskey.

So I order something else, something with brandy and coffee in it. I ask if she could get Irish Whiskey, and she didn't know, she'd have to ask the manager. When I asked, she (the manager) said they wouldn't get it, but never really said why.

I went on a campaign to get Jameson, or any Irish whiskey on stock. Around St Patrick's Day, I bought $20-30 of MDA Shamrocks, and wrote something like "This bar needs Jameson" (you were suppose to write your name. The bar was honor bound to tape them to the wall.

The Manager was not amused.

One particular evening, I was in the bar (same one) with a friend of mine, drinking, and I was complaining about the lack Jameson (or any other Irish Whiskey).

"In all fairness" my friend said "this is only a mini-casino, and they don't have a lot of room on the shelf for a large selection of alcohol. They don't have a lot of other whiskeys, like Canadian."

I looked across the bar at the liquor stock, and started naming of the assorted Canadian whiskeys I saw: Seagams, Crown Royal, Black Velvet, Canadian Club, R and R, Canadian Mist, etc. - then turned to my friend and said "Dude! There is enough Canadian on the bar to form a hockey team."

The Hockey Team

The bar eventually got Jameson on stock. To make a long story short, the owner(s) found out about the request, and asked the manager why she wasn't ordering something to please a regular. She was demoted, to assistant manager (quit shortly after that). And the job of ordering alcohol was given to the head bartender, who started stocking Jameson.

Now this was in July, when it was too hot for an Irish Coffee...