Hi, folks! Long time no type at you! And I don’t have much time now—-I have to get this done before my mom finds out I’m on the computer. She’s downstairs chasing Carter the Great, my new baby brother, and she totally doesn’t know I bribed him to run outside and bark his head off, so I could get a minute on the machine. That little doggie has a great future ahead of him.
Of course, this means I’ll have to come through with my bribe, and I’m not sure I remember where I buried that last rawhide chew, except that it was somewhere in one of the front flowerbeds last fall, before it ever snowed. Might take me a while to find that.
First, I guess I better let you know that my mom is fine, just really, really busy. She’s so busy she didn’t even really walk me in the mornings this summer, and you know how she gets when she doesn’t get regular exercise. She got a new job back in May and I guess I should be thankful because it’s probably why she’s been buying all those smoked pig ears for us lately, but boy! She hardly ever gets up from in front of the computer anymore at all.
And since there’s barely been any bull riding lately, she really doesn’t have much reason to, does she? And since it’s hardly ever broadcast within about a million years of when it happened, she’s starting to wonder why she even bothers to comment on it. It’s all old news before she gets to see the action.
But she finally managed to finish off a huge job that, and I am not making this up, took five years! Five years! That’s longer than I’ve been alive! She was showing it to my dad the other night, and he said it was beautiful. I’ll have to take his word for it, since I can’t read and I don’t understand why anybody’d want to look at pictures of horses when they can go find some real ones to bark at, but she does seem a lot happier now that it’s over.
But the reason I’ve commandeered the computer is because I want you all to join me in protesting J.W. Hart’s existence. I mean, my mom would never say this, because she’s a human and all, but the man clearly is prejudiced against dogs! Seriously! Just think about all the anti-dog stuff he said in Nashville!
First, he remarked that Justin McBride was “shaking like a dog that had eaten a bunch of thumbtacks and needed to go to the bathroom” before he went onstage at the Grand Ol’ Opry. Now, my folks are big-time country music fans, and they weren’t at all impressed with McBride’s singing, guitar playing, or song-writing ability, but they would never say anything like that under any circumstances! I guess that might just prove they love dogs, because they did have some snarky things to say about Mr. McBride’s performance, but you get my drift.
My mom did say that we were lucky JDub managed to edit himself enough not to use the true version of that expression, which has something to do with peach pits. She put her hands over my ears when she said it, but I did catch that much.
And then, JDub started making fun of McKinnon Wimberly, just because the man was glad his dog came home! And he actually said HIS dog left and wasn’t coming back! That really hit my mom hard-—I don’t think she’s told you all that we lost Belle Doggie and Mattie both last winter. She still cries when she thinks about them. Sometimes I do too. I miss them terribly.
It’s a good thing for all concerned that she and my dad adopted Carter, because he’s really livened up the place, and now I don’t have to pester Tiny G to play, which she hardly ever did, anyway, and then my mom would get really mad at me for barking in Tiny’s face and getting her all riled up. I thought it was all in good fun, but when I saw mom grab the squirt bottle, I figured out I was wrong.
So on behalf of all dogs, everywhere, I demand that those who love us rise up and strike back! Of course, my mom is mad at JDub for a whole lot of other stuff that she probably thinks is more important, but I beg to differ with her on that.
Whoops, gotta go. Just have to tell you, though, that all us four-legged creatures in this household are praying for the day the World Cup is televised. Maybe then things will lighten up around here. I have to tell you, though, if I weren’t such a red-blooded American doggie, I’d have to root for somebody besides JDub. Nobody likes a dog hater.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
I'm Mad as Hell
So I waited literally for months to see some televised PBR action, and I dutifully avoided visiting the web site so I wouldn’t see or read anything about what happened in Tulsa, and I was looking forward to a fine weekend of coverage of Tulsa and San Antonio.
Then, because we are ridiculously busy here of late, so busy that one or the other or both of us is working at least part of every weekend, we managed to watch Versus on Saturday night, but then one of us was on the road by late Sunday afternoon, and the other was scrambling to finish a bunch of chores that just couldn’t wait till Monday morning.
So the short end of the story is, I (the one left holding the chore bag) finally managed to tune in to Versus just in time to see the championship round for San Antonio last night. I was just stretching out on the sofa, with three dogs trying to shove one another out of my lap, when Matt Bohon came flying out of the chute on Spit Fire, got smacked in the head with a big ol’ horn, hung up and got trampled, and ended up face down in the dirt.
Doctor’s verdict: A broken shoulder blade, broken upper jaw, broken lower jaw, facial lacerations, and a(nother) concussion.
My verdict: Enough is enough. I am so mad I’m just about to stroke out.
So now hear this: It’s time for the PBR to make it mandatory for competitors to wear helmets.
And furthermore: It’s time for fools like J.W. Hart to quit opining that if you wear a helmet, you’re a pussy. Okay, so he hasn’t come right out and said that on the air, but I’d bet good money he’s said that, or worse, in unrecorded conversations.
Certainly I recall that in Beyond the Bull, J.W. remarked after a particularly lackluster performance that he might as well just sell his bull-riding equipment and buy himself a purse and some make-up. That kind of crap has no place in any professional sport, and taking a position that puts people’s lives at risk, like lobbying (yes, I'm saying he's lobbying) for riders to go helmet-less, is unconscionable.
And one more thing: Here’s why it’s time: Sooner or later, some helmet-less bull rider is going to take a horn or a hoof to the head, and that will be all she wrote.
Somebody (somebody’s son, husband, father) is going to die, right there in the arena or in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, or in the hospital after his family has had to decide to pull the plug, because the folks in charge at the PBR don’t have the guts to stand up and do the right thing.
When that happens, those folks at the PBR who declined to fix this will have the blood of that young man on their hands.
It’s just a matter of time.
Then, because we are ridiculously busy here of late, so busy that one or the other or both of us is working at least part of every weekend, we managed to watch Versus on Saturday night, but then one of us was on the road by late Sunday afternoon, and the other was scrambling to finish a bunch of chores that just couldn’t wait till Monday morning.
So the short end of the story is, I (the one left holding the chore bag) finally managed to tune in to Versus just in time to see the championship round for San Antonio last night. I was just stretching out on the sofa, with three dogs trying to shove one another out of my lap, when Matt Bohon came flying out of the chute on Spit Fire, got smacked in the head with a big ol’ horn, hung up and got trampled, and ended up face down in the dirt.
Doctor’s verdict: A broken shoulder blade, broken upper jaw, broken lower jaw, facial lacerations, and a(nother) concussion.
My verdict: Enough is enough. I am so mad I’m just about to stroke out.
So now hear this: It’s time for the PBR to make it mandatory for competitors to wear helmets.
And furthermore: It’s time for fools like J.W. Hart to quit opining that if you wear a helmet, you’re a pussy. Okay, so he hasn’t come right out and said that on the air, but I’d bet good money he’s said that, or worse, in unrecorded conversations.
Certainly I recall that in Beyond the Bull, J.W. remarked after a particularly lackluster performance that he might as well just sell his bull-riding equipment and buy himself a purse and some make-up. That kind of crap has no place in any professional sport, and taking a position that puts people’s lives at risk, like lobbying (yes, I'm saying he's lobbying) for riders to go helmet-less, is unconscionable.
And one more thing: Here’s why it’s time: Sooner or later, some helmet-less bull rider is going to take a horn or a hoof to the head, and that will be all she wrote.
Somebody (somebody’s son, husband, father) is going to die, right there in the arena or in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, or in the hospital after his family has had to decide to pull the plug, because the folks in charge at the PBR don’t have the guts to stand up and do the right thing.
When that happens, those folks at the PBR who declined to fix this will have the blood of that young man on their hands.
It’s just a matter of time.
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