Pathetic Bob's English Lessons

Pathetic Bob wandered into my office this morning, flopped down on the tile floor, and said, “You know Mike, I’ve been bitching about the economy lately, but I’ve been doing some research, and I put things in a little perspective.”

“Yeah,” I said, “and just what did you perspect?”

“Well,” he began in a somber tone, “although things are getting pretty tough here, I don’t think it will ever get as bad as in Eeng Land.”

“Really? I like England, and I thought they were doing okay over there.”

“There you go thinking again, and you though wrong. Did you know the average person has to pay about $17 million to buy a house?”

“Wow,” I exclaimed, “that’s about 32 million pounds.”

“Yeah,” said Bob, “those houses weigh a lot over there. Also, did you know their mathematics is based on the Dewey decimal system? I mean it’s no wonder their economy is screwed up; who ever heard of doing math with by a library coding system? And another thing, Eeng-Land’s money is based on sterling silver. You can actually buy goods and services with knives, forks, and spoons.”

I honestly don’t know where he comes up with this stuff. I shook my head in bewilderment and asked, “Bob, where do you come up with this stuff?”

“Internet blogs,” he answered. “You can find out anything on blogs.”

“What else did you find out about England?”

“They have too many people named Oliver, Nigel, and Ian. They have urchins in the cities, not just the sea. They have class, both upper and lower. When they go to the theater, they shake spears at actors. They have a King whose name is Big Ben. They still watch Telly even though he died shortly after Kojak was canceled. There was a beetle infestation in the ‘60s that caused young women to wear very short skirts. I have to tell you Mike, that country has some really weird history”

I shook my head again in amazement. “Bob, I don’t think you’ve really been focusing on what you’ve been reading. You’ve just spouted a bunch of half-truths and distortions about a great country. I’ve been to England, and I loved it; I think you’d love it to if you went.”

“Well, why don’t you take me?”

“I can’t afford it right now. The exchange rate is terrible. The American economy is much worse than the British economy.”

Bob thought for a moment. “What if I change my name to Oliver; can we get a discount?”

Read more!

Rain Dogs

The sky over San Antonio is as gray as Gizmo’s muzzle today, and it is dumping its excess moisture on thirsty lawns. I’ve been at the computer most of the day, when I haven’t been mopping up dog urine. Most members of my pack dislike peeing in the rain. In fact, most of them believe water—unless it is in a bowl—is something to be avoided at all costs.

As the rain picked up velocity and the thunder ricocheted off the roof tops, I noticed Sophie, Gizmo, Zipper, Judy and Beyonce (the Yorkie that is staying with us for the week) laying on my office floor with their heads stuck out the sliding-glass door. It appeared they were in deep contemplation. Pathetic Bob, Lily, and Paco were not so sanguine about the weather; they huddled close together underneath my desk making out their last wills and testaments.

“Why don’t you guys go out and play in the rain?” I asked. Silence was the answer I received.

I then decided to try an experiment. I got up and went to the kitchen, followed by eight canines that truly believe every time I go into the kitchen, food magically falls out of my pants. However, I didn’t stop in the kitchen; I passed through it to the laundry room and opened the door to the garage. After pushing the button on the garage-door opener, the large, metal door began to roll up, revealing a semi-river flowing down the street in front of my house. The downpour was ferocious.

Opening the door connecting the laundry room to the garage wider, I said, “Do you guys want to go outside?”

This time, a stampede of fur and tails flew by me towards the freedom of the neighborhood. The sprint for the outside lasted only a second as the dogs slammed on the brakes just as they passed the edge of the eave on the roof. Their course was reversed, and dashed back to dry ground. “Hey, it’s raining out there,” said Bob.

“Duh,” said I.

I sat on the stoop in the garage for a while as the dogs wandered around smelling my tools and peeing on five-gallon buckets of paint. Then, I noticed Sophie tentatively step out of the garage and on to the lawn. Immediately she was soaked, but the lure of my neighbors’ yards proved to enticing for her to worry about her sogginess and she bolted. Lily followed suit, then Pathetic Bob, and finally Judy trotted out in the rain. Zipper, Gizmo, Paco and the Yorkie watched the others go and shook their heads. They remained within the comfort of the garage.

A few minutes later, Lily returned, followed by Sophie and Judy. Pathetic Bob was nowhere in sight. I got a towel to dry off the three dogs, sure that Bob would return shortly. He didn’t. I called his name several times, but he chose to ignore me. I sure wasn’t going to chase him down in the rain. I let the other dogs back in the house, but I remained in the garage to wait out Bob’s return. A few minutes later, an intense boom of thunder crashed overhead. I looked down the street and spotted a miniature Greyhound hauling ass up the road at hyper-speed. As he skidded to a stop inside the garage, Bob’s eyes were wide and he was quivering like a piano wire. “Holy crap, what was that”” he asked.

“That, Bob, was the result of you leaving the yard. I installed a device in your collar that will raise the ire of Thor, the god of thunder, every time you go more than a hundred feet away from the house.”

I closed the garage door, and as we went back into the house, Bob said, “Take that damn thing out of my collar.”

“No,” I said.

“Well, take my collar off then.”

“I’m going to do that right now; you need a bath.”

“Uh-uh. No way. You know I hate water.

Read more!

The Declaration of Pathetic Bob

This morning, after vacuuming and mopping in preparation for the horde known as “My Wife's Family” descending upon our house and swimming pool, my wife said I could take a break, so I came into my office to make my daily rounds on the Internet. My executive dog, Pathetic Bob, followed me.

“Hey Mike,” he said once the door was closed, “What’s with all this July 4th hoopla? Why do Americans get so worked up and eat hot dogs and hamburgers and blow stuff up on this day?”

“It’s Independence Day Bob,” I answered. “It’s the day we celebrate our independence.”

“Independence from what?

“Independence from the yoke of tyranny that was placed upon us by King George of England. Way back in 1776, Americans got tired of being yoked so Thomas Jefferson wrote a document called the Declaration of Independence, and the American politicians signed it. Basically it said, ‘We’re mad as hell, and we’re not gonna take it anymore.’”

“So, that’s where Paddy Chayefsky got that line,” mused Bob “Is that when Americans started drinking coffee?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well,” said Bob, “I heard people were upset because the English were making the Americans buy English tea and they were putting a very hefty tax on it. With tea around $5 a spoonful and lemons $12 each, didn’t all the Americans—well, except the real Americans, you know, the Native Americans—go to Boston and dump on the tea?”

“No Bob, I think you’re a little mixed up. I’m not sure what tea cost back then, but it was more than the people wanted to pay, so some people in Boston threw all the tea from English merchant ships into Boston harbor. They dumped in the ocean, they didn’t dump on the tea.”

“Oh, I see. Ok, when did we develop our dependence on coffee, and did we write a document about it?”

“Bob, I think you’re getting a little off track.”

“What about oil,” Bob went on. “How come we don’t celebrate our dependence on oil? And entertainment, what about that?” And, don’t forget fast-food restaurants and computers and toaster ovens and tanning salons and those pills that make men get an erection? It seems to me Mike, you are much more dependent on all kinds of crap now than people were in 1776. And Jesus Mike, what about taxes? If the people were upset about paying taxes a couple hundred years ago, just think how angry they’d be today.”

“Well, you do have a point Bob,” I agreed. “But back then, the people didn’t have hot dogs and hamburgers and really cool fireworks.”

“Hey, now you’re talking. Let’s go eat.”

Read more!