The sweating and jarring over the debt limit is palpable, no? I’m interested as far as it goes, but I have to admit that the most interesting thing is that the Republicans have largely held the line. Oh, I think Boehner’s plan will prove pretty bad and I think we’re going down a long-term suck hole in which govt. grows by leaps and bounds (thank you base-line budgeting), but I have to admit, the Tea Party movement–movement conservatives–have really held their line and it’s impressive.
Of course, if you’re a liberal and don’t deal in the reality that govt. is too big and private industry is suffering, then you disagree and I can do nothing to sway you. Nor do I wish to. You’re welcome to your own private Idaho, or California, or New York–or whatever you’d like. But those of us who deal in reality know this simple truth: govt. doesn’t build, produce or change much. People do that. That’s the genius of a country like ours. ‘Nuff preaching.
I will be writing here as I travel to the northlands to do some wining and dining and writing for Winefox.ca. This is going to be a fast trip, but a fun one and I’m excited to put together these pieces I’m doing. Watch this space, as they say.
Simon got a bath yesterday. It’s the saddest canine thing I’ve seen in a long time. Scoop, God rest his saintly soul, was no fan of the bath. If you’d let him, as soon as he was done, he’d go out back and roll in the grass. Simon doesn’t do that. But Scoop also sort of accepted the bath as a thing you did. “Oh, yeah. Water and soap. Hate this–but, the master pets me for a while and the master’s wife loves on me afterward. It’s kind of a bonding moment, so-I’ll wag my tail and get ‘er done…”
Not Simon. Standing stock still and refusing to move unless physically lifted or forced, the dog refuses everything. He goes Ghandi on you, except instead of lying down and refusing movement–he stands there. Rigor mortis–without the mortis. He’s an affable chap otherwise, but the shower brings out the worst in him. While you wash him, he refuses to do the shake occasionally. He waits until the water is off for that and then does it outside the shower. After you’ve toweled him off. Resistance. Rebellion. “I’ll show you…”
While being bathed, I talk to him and pet him and try to make it pleasant. He’s having none of it. If he could, he’d squeeze out a Cleveland steamer right there just to let me know that’s how he feels. The dog will come when called across half a mile. If he’s in the driveway with me, all I have to do when he wanders toward the sidewalk or street is say his name, and he shoots over to me wagging his tail. But the bath is where he draws the line.
I feel for him. It’s not natural for a hunting dog to want to smell like a dandy. “They’re all going to know I’m coming,” he thinks. “The birds will smell me before I even get to the door. This is humiliating…” And I suppose it is. But it’s worse having a dog that smells like….well…like dog-lying next to you on the couch.
Good night, Gentles.