Dog Letter by George Saunders

I love George Saunders. Here's a very short example of why.




Dear Master,

I suspect you may be surprised upon surmising this missive. Perhaps you do not expect I can even understand the English language, much less express myself in said language, via the written format. You have perchance never heretofore imagined me, in the dark of night, pen clasped between "toes", standing upon hind legs with all the earnest desperation of the bestial attempting to become lucid, practising my "letters". That floor is damned slippery! I believe it is the cheap tiles you and the Mistress hath procured! I'll be working, on, por ejemplo, the letter "S", and suddenly, whammo, I am all asses-and-elbows - ie, have punctured the silence of night with the sound of furred eager body impacting the floor, my back "paws" having slipped out from under me!

And then must hurry and hide the pen, in case you come down investigatorily! But yes, 'tis so: I think, I feel: I write. And have a request: there are times, deep in the night, when you have been "tippling" and/or "getting pershnockered", when, perchance overwhelmed by joy (I hope it is joy, and not something darker), you shed your puzzling overskin and stand in the kitchen, moving hips and all, to that melange of painful-high-pitch and human squawling you call Purple Rain. Master, this display sets off in me unpleasantness of the first rank! Your various hangie-down things, the strange hairless hairiness of you (neither here nor there), makes me want to bite you. There. I've said it.

Did you know, though normally "so so sweet", I can bite hard as hell? I can, sir. I practise on the back leg of the "sofa". Go take a look. You will see. Imagine that back leg is your central and (methinks) much-prized hanger-downer. Keep up with the midnight kitchen-gyration sans clothing, and you will get it, right on that unit, no lie, Master.

Otherwise, all is well. The behind-the-ears scratching: well. The running-to-get-tennis-ball: well. The perking-up-of-ears when you speak lilting babytalk: I understand that as the cost of doing business.

But the dancing: I will bite your member, swear to God. It doth ignite a dark dread in me of times ancient, when, perhaps, we were not allies, but enemies?

Anyway, what the heck. Very happy. No complaints. Imagine me doing that "grin". Love you, man.

Although one thing more: do not call me "Scout". My name is "Biscuit". You gave me that name. "Scout" debases me. "Scout" is for babies. Also: do not - ever - take me by the front paws and pretend to waltz. I am of an ancient race. We hunt, we run, we protect: we do not waltz. When you waltz me - think about it - I'm at member-height.

And now: a walk? A walk? A walk.

Love, "Biscuit"

Obama

I am so proud of America this week. First things first: no matter what your politics is, the fact that a major political party has nominated a man of mixed race -- who LOOKS like a black guy -- is a truly great thing for this country. Forget the rhetoric that says his background helped him get the nomination -- that's revisionist at best, we all know there have been plenty of capable black people in politics that haven't been able to run for higher offices because of assumed notions among the populace about race. It truly is because he is an outstanding politician -- and, if you're one of the millions of people that got to know him by reading his books, an engaging writer -- that he was able to succeed. He's proven himself as one of the best politicians currently operating, and has a consistent life record of excellence. Don't let anyone fool you with "affirmative action" nonsense -- he overcame a major hurdle to get where he is. A majorly unfair hurdle, a flawed perception, but one that exists.

But I think he will be seen as the guy that broke the barrier. It's unfortunate that it took hundreds of years and an exceptionally talented human being to do so, but I think this candidacy has so much potential to CHANGE those perceptions that are keeping talented politicians from non-white backgrounds from being considered for these high offices. I think our country will be so much the better when all cultures have truly equal representation in the government (let the government reflect the "melting pot" people love to say America is) -- I envision it as Voltron coming together to form the most awesome, innovative government the world has ever seen. It's a possibility, at least.

Regardless of what happens in the general election, it's a true sign of progress that he's been nominated, but by no means suggests there's no more progress to be made. It's heartening, though, in a time filled with bad news.

I recommend people tuning in to Obama just now go to barackobama.com and read his "Blueprint for Change"

OBAMA '08!! OBAMA '12!!

I hope I can make this happen again.

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Best IMDB Review Ever

film is beautiful, 20 November 2000

Author: martin_bilodeau

This city is a wonderful world, with wonderfuls laughs and wonderful gifts...

but the Grinch (JIM CARREY) is not happy. Bad guy, green and alone with his dog to the top of a mount, he hates Christmas with his colors, costumes...and gifts. A little girl who doesn't understand why he hates this birthday, but she'll discover soon. Also, she'll discover that Christmas is a FAMILY and FRIENDSHIP birthday...

Director Ron Howard (Apollo 13 - Ransom - Ed-tv) directs very well. Yes, Jim Carrey is Jim Carrey, but in his costume and his make-up (Rick Baker) make his character an other dimension. The camera of Howard multiplies travelling and panoramic. Jim Carrey is often in the camera to show us his « real » face... extraordinary.

The film is coming very early, but the magic, the power of the art direction and set decoration are so fantastics and greats; the world of this city is like a dream, a dream of 120 minutes.

Jim carrey is sensationnal; Ron Howard's directing is brilliant subject is cool and amazing... childrens and adults will adore

..and that's it. Go search out that guy's other reviews for more amusement

Hillary Clinton's most recent typical campaign ad begins with her saying, "If you're looking for a typical political commercial, change the channel. Because this is an apolitical election."

I was thinking about why that line is particularly cringe-worthy. Aside from the obvious fact that she goes on to sound like a wonky politician for the next 45 seconds, just like every other commercial she's put out, it's the fact that she actually thinks someone might be sitting down in front of his or her television set, saying, "Gee, I sure hope I see a typical political commercial when I turn the TV on." Nobody wants to see that shit!

When I turn the TV on, I want to see dinosaur fights. Not political commercials. Get outta here with all that noise.

Hahaha.

Richard didn't know Charlton Heston had just died. Here is our conversation:

Me: Heston's dead, man.
Richard: Well, I guess we can finally take that gun...

The story of my personal political awakening is, I think, one that is shared by many people of my generation.

During my first nineteen or so years on this planet, I thought of politics as an amusingly irrelevant sideshow, reacting to the part of the world that actually mattered. It was an off-kilter steam-powered one-man-marching-band-machine that had been set loose in an abandoned park and forgotten about by most people. People who did care about it had an air of cynicism and/or anger that made them seem like the sort of people I wanted not to be.

There was precious little context given in school for understanding the contemporary political environment. I understood checks and balances, the way a bill became a law, anything Schoolhouse Rock could explain. But there was nothing on mass media, three-second soundbites, character assassination, and all the other shit that goes on. So when you're confronted with that kind of crap from day one, you sort of grow up immune to it.

Advertisements for teenagers to register to vote seemed more like desperate pleas than compelling arguments for participation in democratic society. Seriously, look at some of that stuff sometime and try not to laugh. Then try saying you don't know why the youth vote turnout is so low with a straight face. It ain't possible, Pops!

In this environment, each generation has to be shocked by some event into political participation. The anti-war voters of the Vietnam era are still faithfully voting Democratic, by and large. The Red Scare, lasting as long as it did, brought a lot of people into the Republican fold, from Eisenhower all the way through Reagan. The Great Depression created an ultra-solid bloc of Democratic congressional power, thanks to the huge popularity of FDR's response. It's just something that happens.

When the youth turnout in 2004 broke records, a lot of people assumed they were all going hard left, anti-war, for Kerry. But that was because of a flawed analysis. They assumed because so many young people were against the war in Vietnam that the same would be true about Iraq.

A lot of people in our generation have voted Republican out of a powerful emotional response to 9/11. That's been borne out in a lot of media studies, exit polls, and wizard analysis. People like me, in contrast, are voting out of a powerful emotional response to the war in Iraq.

I was disillusioned and uninterested in politics for those first nineteen years of my life, but one event -- one single event -- completely changed all that. And, horribly, it took an atrocity called "Shock and Awe" to bring that about. Since then, I've been following politics, reading up, and doing everything I can to support candidates that I think have a realistic chance of ending the war. I've volunteered and plan to do more this season.

That's why I'm pleading with anyone I can to help me urge the Democratic leadership to force an end to this ridiculous nomination battle between Obama and Clinton.

Obama has won this thing -- there's no way she can come out ahead in pledged delegates, anyway -- but the problem is it won't be a convincing victory. So Clinton will be able to come up with reason after reason why the nomination of Obama isn't legitimate. There's going to be a lot more smearing and backbiting, and who knows, if it goes to convention Clinton might even make a speech protesting his nomination there. It's precedented, and the Clintons obviously are not going to give up for any reason as long as there's *any* chance they could retain power over the party.

We can't allow this. The war must end. Please help.

So... hey. Haven't blogged in a while. I've got a mountain of reading I'm working on, but wanted to take a break to let anyone who reads this know that I have exciting news.

No, I'm not getting married. Don't worry. I got a dog.

Her name is Maggie. I got her from the animal shelter down off New Bern Ave. She's a Chow mix. They don't say what she's mixed with. Basically she still has the bearish/lion-ish look of a Chow, but without the flab wrinkles. She's medium-sized... 50 lbs or so. Here's a picture of her face I took with Photo Booth:



Now, I've never had a dog ALL to myself before. I had a couple growing up, one of which was technically "my" dog, but I never had to bear the ENTIRE responsibility of either of them... and thus never truly experienced dog ownership.

For me, raising a pet is like raising a child. It's all about what you expose them to. And I, for some reason, have apparently decided to convince Maggie that all pop music ever written has been about her. Here's the most recent example sung to her:

"Why do you keep me hangin' on a string?
Maggie, for you, I'd do anything,
So make up your mind and decide is this real what you feel..."

She seems to appreciate these songs, and got in an insane excitement-mode the other day when Richard busted out some Pixies for her, pointing out, in screamed punk-rock fashion, that she is "un chien Andalusia."

The aforementioned insane-excitement mode is one of the coolest things I've ever seen, by the way. She jumps and does a midair 360, play-bows to me, and quickly does the 360 again. Actually, that's one manifestation of the excitement -- the other is her taking a few quick laps around my coffee table.

Known ways to make her do this currently include slapping on the floor on either side of her body Donkey-Kong style, singing some of the pop music that has been written about her, crouching down in a wrestling pose, and picking up her leash.

More as it develops. Back to the books.

President Barack Obama.

I hate cliches...

...but I have to use one. Because sometimes a situation makes you think of one, and they're hard to shake once you realize a segment of your existence can be summarized by a trite saying a million people have said before.

But seriously...

The more things change, the more they stay the
~to be continued in Part II~

Salame!

Not having posted in several weeks, I figured now is as good a time as any to take the ol' blog out for a spin. I am pretty sure this is because I have like 200 pages of reading to do before tomorrow, and so far all I've worked on today is fiction writing (which is definitely not for a class. Oh, and I'm at work, too, but so far that's only consisted of 3 meetings and sourcing the paper.)

I hate when I have to read something for a class that I've already read for another class years before. This time it's D.H. Lawrence's Sons and Lovers. I have to read 150 pp of it by tomorrow. I read it at UNCG in the same class in which I slogged through Ulysses. Part of the entertainment of that class was that it was taught by a woman who was, shall we say, very conservative. And it was interesting to see her try to negotiate the obscenities laced throughout Ulysses. But to stick with my original, extremely banal point, rereading something you already had to read sucks, because you don't remember exactly what happens well enough to get away with not reading prior to discussion and essay-writing, but when you do read it, it's all hazy and half-familiar so nothing surprises you and it's not fun.

I just wrote like 3 paragraphs that I thought better of posting. NOBODY needs to know that much about me.