Sunday, January 14, 2018

Today in church they asked what a Bishop does. Apparently “move diagonally” wasn't the answer they were looking for.

Hungry?  You won't be after this...



A KINDHEARTED OLD LADY

A tour bus driver is driving with a bus load of seniors down a highway when he is tapped on his shoulder by a little old lady.
She offers him a handful of peanuts, which he gratefully munches up.

After about 15 minutes, she taps him on his shoulder again and she hands him another handful of peanuts.
She repeats this gesture about five more times.

When she is about to hand him another batch again he asks the little old lady, ‘Why don’t you eat the peanuts yourself?’
‘We can’t chew them because we’ve no teeth’, she replied.

The puzzled driver asks, ‘Why do you buy them then?’
The old lady replied, ‘We just love the chocolate around them.’

Saturday, January 13, 2018

Where does Poland keep its armies? Up its sleevies.

I don't care for Ethnic Jokes, so I don't generally put them here.  Not that the topic was anything but your basic pun. 

Basically, I have a couple hard and fast rules.  Has to be "broadcastable" on US TV even in a repressed area such as your basic republican red state.

Dad Jokes are good for me.  Your basic dumb pun works great.

Oh and it has to make me laugh, and that's not really a test.  I laugh often.



A man walks into a bar.

The barman asks "Why the long face?"
The man replies "I just found out my wife is sleeping with another man. So I have decided I'm going to drink myself to death."

The barman looks shocked and says "I'm sorry I can't help you commit suicide at all let alone in my pub!"
The man asks "Well what would you do in my situation?"

The barman leans in and says "If I found out a guy was sleeping with my wife I wouldn't sit around feeling sorry for myself, I'd kill the guy."
The man jumps up from his stool and shouts "That's a great idea! Thanks!" and runs out of the pub.

A couple hours goes by and the barman is starting to get nervous when the man walks back into the pub with a smile on his face.

"Did you kill the guy?" The barman asks nervously.
"Nope! I slept with your wife. Whiskey please.”

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Teaching Rack to Eat - A Slow Eater Gets Much Better With Water and Heat.

Rack is a fascinating character.

My dog, Rack, has some quirks.  Some of those quirks are endearing.  He greets me in the house, despite other people living there, first.

Mind you since I'm the one that tends to grab the heaviest bags from the back of the car, that's not always comfortable.  That wet nose has found itself in places it never should have been.

He sleeps in his bed, but only until I have drifted to sleep.  Many nights, in the glow of the clocks and

Dogs live by their noses, and will curl up next to their favorite people, and barring that, their clothes so
that they are comforted by the scent.
lights in the bedroom, I open an eye and see that he's moved to the bath mat I keep next to the bed and my boots.  I would have thought it is more comfortable in his bed that is chock full of foam rubber, but he'd rather curl up on a flat mat next to my shoes and my bed. 

Ok, Boy, as long as you don't chew anything.

But one of those quirks has bothered me since day one, and is something I will have to watch for the rest of his time. 

Food.  He's a terrible eater. 

Many dogs are too fast.  They eat so fast that they bloat and you end up turning the bowl over, or get a Maze bowl to force them to slow down.

Lettie was fine, although she was a bit too quick on snacks.  Just watch your fingers, she thought her snout was shorter than it actually was.

In Rack's case, Food is an Afterthought.

He has severe food allergies.  Grain and Poultry are a definite no.  We went through quite a few meals followed by projectile "Soft Serve" and diarrhea until we figured that out.

Cheap food is full of grain.  Dogs don't need grain.  They are omnivores, but more toward being a carnivore than we are.  So cut out the grain.  Chickens and Turkeys eat grains.  So whatever was in that grain gets stored in the muscle tissue, and whatever else, that is used to make the dog food and more "Soft Serve".

We found a couple of foods that he could eat safely, but the damage was done.  He gets extremely picky.

Since one of the foods was a dry kibble, he would take as much as a half hour or more to eat on a normal feeding.  Twice a day and I was spending an hour tapping and shaking the food bowl to motivate him to eat. I would get frustrated, start nagging him to eat.

Not good.  Nobody likes to be nagged.

So I hit on an idea.

Take the food in the bowl, ours is purple plastic, and add an ounce of water or so.  Just enough to puddle a little bit in the bottom of the bowl.  Coat all of the food with the water.  Shake and stir it around.

Then microwave it for 15 seconds.  Just enough to warm things.

The last dry day he had was 27 minutes of crunching.  Lettie would have had that done in short order and ask for more.

The first wet day he was done so fast that I had to do a double take.  It took three minutes.

So the rule is that he gets bored and needs variety.

The main rule is that even just an ounce of water to warm and soak things is a help.

Reading this you may say to "Give him 10 minutes then remove the food, he'll eat when he's hungry".

No.  "I mean are you stupid? No."

I have a dog with a very low prey drive, and a very low food drive.  He will starve himself.  As in "I'll lose 20% of my body weight and still ignore that food."

It simply is not a priority and removing food from a dog is unnecessarily cruel.  Better to try something positive and see if you can change things.

Of course we're also dealing with a dog who was still growing when I got him from the rescue, so he

You see, Puppies are wonderful and beautiful balls of love.  However taking a dog away from Mom means that it does not learn what is acceptable in a pack.  Feeding is one of those things that is effected and you end up with a painfully fussy dog. 

He was almost certainly taken from his mother early and not socialized properly. 

When your pup is in a pack of 8 brothers and sisters, you eat or you go hungry.  Being picky means failure to thrive.  If you aren't taught that lesson, it may linger.

In our case it did.

So a little water, and 15 minutes in the microwave may just do the trick.  It did with us.

Sunday, January 7, 2018

My Town Is So Small that our crazy cat lady only has one cat.

Yesterday two dogs.

Today, A Cat and a Dog.

Yes, you could say this is a dog of a joke.





Sniffing Dog

A man boards a plane and is seated next to an Air Marshall and his ‘sniffing dog’. Soon, the plane takes off and the Marshall says, “Sniffer, search.” The dog walks along the aisle, and stops next to a woman. He then returns to his seat and puts a paw on the Marshall’s arm.
“Good boy,” says the Marshall.

“What happened?” asks the man.
“That woman is in possession of marijuana. We’ll arrest her when we land.”

Once again, Sniffer searches the aisles. He stops beside a man, then returns to his seat, and places two paws on the Marshall’s arm.
“That man is carrying cocaine,” the Marshall explains.

The dog walks up the aisle again, then races back, jumps into his seat, and poops all over it.
“What’s going on?!” demands the man.
The Marshall nervously replies, “He just found a bomb!”

Saturday, January 6, 2018

Jokes are like puppies. If you have to pull them apart to see how they work, they’re not as fun.

Yeah I know nasty little groaner for the topic here today.  It's similar to a Groucho Marx joke:

Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.

Too bad the TV doesn't rerun those old Marx Brothers' movies here any more!



A boy is walking home with groceries and his border collie and he comes across a pool of toxic waste.
Absolutely shocked at this sight, he dropped his groceries and let go of his dog.
His dog wasn't the smartest, and it jumped into the toxic waste.
The boy's groceries also fell in.

After finally recovering, the boy called the cops to report both his dogs death and the toxic waste.
When the cleanup crew arrived, they thanked the boy for reporting the spill, and apologised because they couldn't find his dog.

However they did find that his watermelon had grown a snout and tail, and seemed to look like his dog.
Suddenly, the watermelon started barking and running around.
Somehow the watermelon he had bought and his dog had combined.
He picked up the watermelon/border collie and hugged it, and it licked him back.

He embraced the melon-collie

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

The Colder The Weather, The Tighter The Dogball

Cold is relative.

No really, it is.

You ask someone who lives in a place where they get wild swings of temperature when you don't, they may tell you you're crazy.

But if your dog gets cold, it gets cold, no matter where you are.

In my case, my dog got cold, and so did my relatives.  Rack, the McNab SuperDog (TM), handles it in style.  He simply rolls up into a dogball and parks himself in the corner.

He does it wrong, but he doesn't care.

Last night, watching an old sitcom, I saw the ritual of the nest.  I've got a mat for him to lay on to protect him from the cold slab that the house is built upon.  Yes, I know, Cold is Relative.  In this case, it's relative enough for me to be wearing a pair of Doc Martins any time I am not in bed, or a shower, or shaving in front of a mirror.

But that's normal for me.

The one time I tried to put my own Docs on my dog's feet, he looked up at me with all knowing brown eyes and basically told me I was an idiot.  Taking one foot out of each shoe, he slipped away.

Good for me, I was able to finish dressing.  Sitting on the edge of the bed means that I generally have a 46 pound, badger black and white dog weaving his frame in and out of my legs.  Like a cat.  Which I can't.  I'm allergic to cats.  That's why we have a dog.   A Good Dog indeed.

Who's a good boy?  Hmmm?  You are!

So as he's pawing on a mat that has to weigh as much as a bag of flour, not having much luck, and basically making a mess, he manages to roll it up into a ball.  Then, Plop! He's settling in next to it to sleep.

That Dog Sniffing His Tail position that McNab Dog owners are so familiar with.  The tighter the dogball, the colder the weather.

But cold is all relative.  My relatives.  One in the Philadelphia Area, My Sister Pat at least doesn't laugh
at me when I tell her it's cold out.  She does remind me that while I may be feeling cold and it's 50, I also went to Kelly Drive and would have a skate workout when there was ice on the trails in a T Shirt and Boxer shorts with a sweatshirt if it was windy.

Just a short workout, mind you, only 9 miles, but you can do it too.  Come on, it was only 25, and I wasn't crazy.  Really I wasn't.

The other one is in the middle of the great plains.  The Middle of Nebraska.  Les Nessman's dream state.  Where it was minus-freaking-25 Farenfreakingheit.  Too Freaking Cold.

So cold that it doesn't make too much sense to take the effort to convert the temp to Celsius because it is roughly the same.  And my mind may be going from all that cold anyway because I could be getting the temperature wrong, oh never mind, let me have my damn coffee, it's too cold to think about that!

Replace Freaking with whatever intensifier you wish.  I have one in mind.  Four bold letters.  Describes the situation perfectly.  Survival gear to go to the mailbox cold.

No.  Just No.  I'll take solace in that it will only get colder here, and we're expecting two degrees above freezing.  Yes, 38F or 2C.

So this is the dry season.  How I know is that it has been raining for two days in a row, and my banana tree sprouted a flower that just popped open.  Just in time for near freezing temperatures.

The storm forms in the Caribbean, where the water is still warm, relatively.  It does that pirouette dance to spin up into what my Sister will be calling a Nor'Easter, and wondering if it will get above freezing before the storm hits there.

Dunno, Pat, I remember once riding my motorcycle this time of year through the NJ Pine Barrens with just a T Shirt and Jeans because it was 70 with snow banks on the side of the road and ice patches in the shadows.

Dress for the Slide, not the Ride.

So it's all relative.  I will hide from my cold.  You hide from your cold.  Here, have some coffee.

Did I tell you that the freeze line is 8 miles north of me?  Yeah, Clint Moore Road in Boca Raton according to the National Weather Service is as far south as freezing temps get.

Take that Boca!  Hah!

Sunday, December 31, 2017

A New Year Poem

The new year poem

The horse and the mule live for 30 years, And know nothing of wines and beers;

The goat and sheep at 20 die, And never get a taste of Scotch and rye.

The cow drinks water by the tonne, And at 18 is mostly done, Without the aid of gin and rum.

The cat in milk and water soaks, And then in 12 short years it croaks.

The modest, sober, bone-dry hen, Lays eggs for others, then dies at 10.

All animals are strictly dry, They sinless live and swiftly die.

But sinful, ginful, rum-soaked men, Survive for three score years and ten,

And some of them, though very few, Stay pickled till they’re 92!

So, never shed a tear, drink a beer... Celebrate the past, toast the future and Have a Rocking Happy New Year !!!

Saturday, December 30, 2017

I went to by some camouflage trousers the other day....But I couldn’t find ‘em.

An elderly man in Louisiana had owned a large farm for several years. He had a large pond in the back. It was properly shaped for swimming, so he fixed it up nice with picnic tables, horseshoe courts, and some apple and peach trees.

One evening the old farmer decided to go down to the pond, as he hadn't been there for a while, and look it over. He grabbed a five-gallon bucket to bring back some fruit. As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee. As he came closer, he saw it was a bunch of young women skinny-dipping in his pond.

He made the women aware of his presence and they all went to the deep end. One of the women shouted to him, 'we're not coming out until you leave!'

The old man frowned, 'I didn't come down here to watch you ladies swim naked or make you get out of the pond naked.'

Holding the bucket up he said, 'I'm here to feed the alligator...'

Some old men can still think fast!

Wednesday, December 27, 2017

Four Paws and Bored? What do you want, Rack?

I putter in the yard a lot.

When you have a string of pots with 25 species of plants in an average sized suburban yard, it tends to take a
little bit of time to do a yard inspection.

I'm out there twice a day, at least, and every day regardless of the weather.

Ok, there really are exceptions.  I don't think I went out there that day that Hurricane Irma was blowing her nasty head all over the entirety of the Florida Peninsula, but cut me a little bit of slack.

We have, all over the perimeter of the yard, plantings.  They have been discovered by my dog, Rack the McNab SuperDog (TM), as well as Lettie who proceeded him and came down here with us from Philadelphia.

The plantings have also been discovered by the creatures that are trying to live in this yard.  We've got two
species of lizard here on a daily basis.  They're small enough to be entertaining and not a threat.  There have been rare snakes, opossums, raccoons, iguanas, and of course neighbor's cats that come through here.

The cats don't belong.  If you want a pet, keep them safe inside your home or on a leash.  Can't manage that, don't have one.  It keeps them alive longer.

For the most part whenever Rack explores, and I rattle around the plants, we don't see anything out there.  They hear us and move away.

With all this propagation going on, I'm kept entertained.

Monarch butterflies spot the Mexican Milkweed and eat it all to sticks.  When the sticks get long, and begin
to re-leaf, I take cuttings and stick them in pots.  If I get seeds, the park gets them scattered there to return the favor of the original milkweed plants from years back.

Orchid pots are designed to rot away so that the plants can eat the nutrients.  When they do, they need re-potting and you can split the plants into two or more.

Banana trees constantly regrow and are bursting through the pot I have them in.  I'll need a better solution but frankly unless you want to live in a banana grove that won't happen.  Pots it will be.  Bananas are growing too, so I'll have a treat further down the line.

All the while that I am doing that I am being watched.  Granted, there are flocks of feral parrots that fly overhead screeching their call to flock, and a random scrawny squirrel that dines on Palm Nuts out of the trees on the property.  Those squirrels would be laughed at up North.  They're about half the size of the ones up there.

No, I mean by my own dog Rack.

You see he goes through and does his own plant inspection and waters pots too.  Thankfully not my food
crops, but he does have his spots behind the hedges and under the Podocarpus.

Sometimes he'll want to start running around so I'll get distracted from considering the pruning of the Condo Mango tree that isn't supposed to get more than 10 feet tall but is getting close.  Usually we'll get into our dance where he'll run around like crazy to burn off steam.  When he does, he will make these sharp turns around the obstacles in the yard at a speed that a hockey player would only dream of, and with grace a ballerina would aspire to.

In a short blast of air, he vanishes into a wormhole and visits his alternate family in the alternate universe.  Coming back out of warp, he slows down to conventional speed and will run around some more.

Meanwhile, I've gone back to being boring and puttering around the yard.  Fretting over the black mold that will grow on the concrete in cold seasons, or debating whether to break apart the Lemongrass that is now over 8 feet tall and swaying in the breezes making me want to make Thai food.

This is when I will feel the weight of his eyes.  He will appear.  He will tell me that he wants something else.

Inside.

You see, instead of having a kid running around screaming at me, I have a four footed McNab Dog staring me down.  Smartest of all breeds, along with all the other smart ones, he knows how to get his point across.

If I ignore him, I do so at my own peril.

He was mistreated before I got him.  Most likely removed from his mother too early, and then the first owner tried to convince him to be a hunting dog, he was an owner surrender.  I would say that his allergies to grain and poultry based food had a lot to do with that.  He came to us with worms that had to be treated three times, and a crushing fear of everything that he still shows from time to time.

However, I am his main person.  Wherever he is, he is watching me, or at least where I am.  If I am doing something and he wants a change, I find two brown eyes staring holes through my soul.  He will sit at my feet and block me from moving on.

That is a herding behavior, modified.  As a result of his rough start, his play drive is warped as well as his herding drive.  If we are out and not going where he wants us to, he circles in front of me, looks up, and blocks my path.

Usually I give in, but that cuts my own walk short.

In this case, we're in the yard. I've bored him.  Plants are for peeing on, not for propagating to make fresh
herbs for a pizza.

Come on, lets go! I'm Bored! say the brown eyes.

Just like a kid.  "Ok, Rack, Show Me!".

He trots to the door with a smile on his face.

"Show Me" is something I have always taught dogs.  They can't talk but they surely are expressive.  They will take you to what they need or what they think you need.  It isn't always treats, it can be just the door or the leash.  This makes things simple.

It also stops the bored dog by giving him a hand in what he wants to do.

Show Me, indeed.  "Ok Boy, I'm coming, let's go in."

"Anybody want to go for a walk?

Sunday, December 24, 2017

Did you hear the one about the speed bump and the cymbal? Ba-dum, tish.

I should just use that topic for all these jokes!  I only post what I like.  Enjoy!



How did it happen?”


The doctor asked the middle-aged farmhand as he set the man’s broken leg.

“Well, doc, 25 years ago… ”
“Never mind the past! Tell me how you broke your leg this morning.”

“Like I was saying… 25 years ago, when I first started working on the farm, that night, right after I’d gone to bed, the farmer’s beautiful daughter came into my room. She asked me if there was anything I wanted.
I said, “No, everything is fine.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.
“I’m sure,” I said.

“Isn’t there anything I can do for you?” she wanted to know.
“I reckon not,” I replied.

“Excuse me,” said the doctor, “What the hell does this story have to do with your broken leg?!?!?”
“Well, this morning,” the farmhand explained, “when it dawned on me what she meant, I fell off the roof!”