So, this will be the first and last time I share a post from this good fellow, whom I only recently discovered. Yesh, I doooo like him. This post tells me, assuming it’s true, and I don’t doubt that it is, that the Nasties are getting really skittish, and nastier by the day, and they’re trying to pretend that all this solar eclipse and so forth will cause disruption and… mayhem, ahem.
Surprisingly, I have little symphony for people like Bill Grapes, who clearly wants to kill us all. But the reason I’m sharing this is to alert you, like when I bring you a dead, muddy squirrel as a gift.
ROOOOOF.
Butt, after I post this, I donut know if I mite be going back to this fellow’s page, or at least, I mite not subscribe to it, because he won’t allow comments unless you pay. PAY to respond to his barx? Hmmmmm, wail, I donut feel like it. I yam short on bacon, and i ate all the kibble, too. Oww, wooooooo, wooooo.
While I can understand wanting to be paid, I donut demand it myselth—maybe I should. What do you fink? I DO ask to be paid for my visual art (arf!), the paintings and cartoons, even tho I yam so techickly hammerd I donut even have FOE TOES NO MO. Aw, hell, I donut want to fink about all dis, I just want to live and let live and retire, and just do art, in REEL LIFE, in PURRSON, TOUCH DIS AND YOU BUY IT, PAL. But you know, it costs a LOT to show your art in a gallery, too. I’m so sick of the whole MONAY THANG. It’s pissin’ me right arf. I wish I were a good marketer, but it is not so— I’m just a dog. Hold on, could you scratch me, right there, pleez?
Anyway, I yam learning that somewhere like Costa Rica might be a better place for somedogbody like me… I just have no money to GET THERE. Donut laff at me! I fink maybe I’ll try doing somefing like busking… and my acoustic guitar is in my parents’ house, probably being sold out from undermean. Bollocks, I need to get the fuck right outta this lame-ass town. I donut wanna live here no mo, and I’m gonna eat words and die. It’s like the anti-feces of where I used to live in Californie, with artists and writers and thinkers and cool beans. Butt DIS town is like going through the cooking glass. Who wannabe a cooked dog???
Butt, STILL, after all I’ve been through lately, and with all my efforts to stop this kind of feeling,, of trying to make things better, trying to HELP, trying to fix things, and seeing how I am failing and flailing, I am still outraged. When I’m not larfing my arse arf, I am usually, generally, outraged. I have this same response (and always have) to the many cruel and rather horrible things going on and being done to people who have no real fault for anything. Innocent people. Vulnerable people. Really old people, very young people, sick people, and so on. Who are we, who is anybody, really, to decide who is “worthy” of whatever? I donut know. Nobody, I’d say. And you know, I’ve always had this response to cruelty in all its forms— my hole life. Maybe I should try to evolve into… whatever… A bird? Tears of a clown dog.
Do I understand all the ways of the Creator? No, I donut. I donut go around telling everyone what’s what because I. Donut. Know. I have ideas, but really, I just donut know. Or maybe I donut KNOW that I know. Oh, my dog. Dat’s itchy.
There’s something sort of alluring about losing everything and just wingin’ it. There’s also something really frightening about it— I’ve got paws, not wings. Plus, I’m a girl dog, and well… you know. Maybe you donut know, either. Well, nobunny knows what’s gonna happen in the next while, but I do feel like something BIG is coming furry soon, and it’s gonna change pretty much everything— Donut make my brown eyes blue?
My teef are rotting. When the time comes, I know how to pull them— just wiggle them, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, until they’re loose enough to pull. I know Thirst Aid, I was trained as an EMT (Emergent Mutt Tailer). Nothing much has changed in that world in nearly 46 years. Maybe I could do that, re-up my license (butt NO SHOTS). Or maybe I’ll find a delivery job, I’d like that. The opposite of Fetch.
Well, I think you’ll see more ramblings like this, if you see much of anything— Are you BLIND? I yam NOT a sing-eye dog, FY EYE. I am not going to try and keep up with everything, or anything; I yam going to the Zen Dog place and I mite won’t come back. I’m nod in the moooooooooood. But I did get my walkies, yeppers, puppers, Ah Deeeeyud. And maybe I’ll get ‘em again. OK, bye.
That final meme had me chuckling....
You tickle me and make me grin. I Iove you. No charge and no strings - just like you. Sisterly love!