So. When I got up at 5 am this morning to take Yoda out to do his business, I intended to spend today’s time with you telling you about the amazing progress he has made. Marilyn Nichols with Happy Puppy Tutoring calls taking a pee and a dump “doing business”[.] OK, maybe it wasn’t Marilyn who said that, but it is Marilyn who is responsible for this little dog’s progress.
Which brings up an important point. My entire life—until recently—I have only had Golden Retrievers as pets. Big, smart and frisky dogs like my current beauty, Dixie. I mean I might have adopted a snake or a lizard or a skunk when I was a kid, but none of those adoptions lasted long enough for the papers to clear processing before the animal ran away, died or was shot by my grandmother.
And why doesn’t the word lizard have two Z letters? I get that lazy has the single Z, but lizard really should be lizzard. Same dealie as the word really, right. Really comes from real, with the extra L and a Y. Lizard has it’s origins in Liz, so it really needs to be lizzard.
All of my best friends have been big dogs until now. As Dixie sinks deeper into her retirement and withdrawal from my presence, my life has become infested with a menagerie of pet animals that at best must be called strange. At worst—hell, what’s the worst you can say about a man whose pets include a ten-pound half Mini-Dachshund-Chihuahua, a half Chihuahua-Terrier and also ten pounds, and a now-550-pound American Domesticated Pig and his gay lover, the 350-pound African Ostrich named Rick Perry.
Oh, yea. And a fucking cat. Can’t forget the fucking cat. Many of my blogger buddies have cats, and they are constantly writing about how their cats do this or that stupid thing. Then they say stupid shit like, “What’s up with my cat,” or “Why did she do that?”
Look, guys. I’ve only been a cat holder for a few months but I can answer every one of your cat questions using the same five words. All you cat owners write this down. Ready:
“It’s a fucking cat, dumbass!”
Should I have said six words since it’s is a contraction? Maybe I’ll print little friggie magnets and bumper stickers that say, “It’s a fucking cat, dumbass!”
OK, I’m waaaay off the reservation. When I read the newspaper this morning, a front-page story pissed me off. That’s what I’m trying to tell you about that interrupted what I originally intended to tell you about when I got up with Yoda to do his business.
You have all heard the pompous prick, Rick Perry, brag about all of the wonderful jobs he has “originated” for Texas as our governor. I will tell you that the city of Austin, my personal hometown, is the star recipient of all of Mr. Perry’s job-creating largess. We lost fewer jobs and we obtained more of the jobs that our governor stole—oopsie—I mean originated for our state.
Austin has the state’s most robust economy, strongest housing markets and supposedly best business climate. We would be the shining star of Prick Perry’s bragging on his job creationism.
However, just like Rick Perry’s preaching about Biblical Creationism as compared to Evolution, the boy’s job creationism has a few holes in it. Today’s paper printed a story with a little demographic information from the latest US Census. This information centered on populations and poverty. In Texas, the income line for poverty in a family of four is about $22,000 per year.
Last week, the paper printed a blurb that the average price in Austin to rent a two bedroom apartment is $900+ per month plus utilities. For those of you who might be math-deficient, that means that a person making less than $22,000 per year can’t afford electricity if they house their family in an average two bedroom apartment. Can’t afford to eat either. How the hell they able to watch those giant screen TV they buy with food stamps if they have no electricity?
But here’s my Rick Perry point. The recent census shows that one in every five adults in Austin is living UNDER the poverty level. That’s right, twenty-percent of the people in our state’s best economically conditioned city are paupers. Now don’t get me wrong because College Station, home to Rick Perry’s beloved Texas A & M University, has the state’s worst poverty numbers. In College Station, their numbers exceed thirty-seven percent. Thirty-seven fucking percent!
So wake the up America. Rick Perry is coming to fuck your state too.
I’m cracking a Carta Blanca beer and watching the Tivo of Dancing With The Stars. Maybe I need more than one to stomach the entire thing. I had the entire family voting for Chaz Bono, but none of us has watched it. I swore I’d watch every minute that Chaz survived the stupid fucking contest and I’m a man of my word. Manana, y’all.