Do Dogs Go To Heaven?

Horace - 1982-1999

Yes, I believe they do.

Do I believe in Heaven?  I don't know.  My common sense says there is no such thing as Heaven.  I tend to believe that when you die there is nothing.  A great void.  Black, dark.  Total unawareness.

However, and a big HOWEVER....some years ago I saw a Robin Williams movie called "What Dreams May Come."  The Robin Williams character died in an auto crash in the Holland Tunnel (what a way to go).  He died but he didn't know he died until he "woke up" in a colorful field of flowers in an oil painting.  At first he didn't know where he was.  As he slowly came to consciousness, he heard a dog barking in the distance.  He recognized the bark.  The dog barking was his long deceased dog "Katy".  "I must be in dog Heaven!" says the Robin Williams character.


Katy rushes to him in the field where Robin Williams is lying among the colorful flowers.  Very emotional scene and I get choked up every time I see it.

They embrace one another.  Katy licks his face.  They both walk off towards the beautiful waterfalls in the distance.  That's when Robin Williams realizes that he is in the REAL HEAVEN, not just "doggie Heaven."

Folks, Bill and I have had five dogs (all Pomeranians) during our time together.  Our last dog died in 1998. His name was Horace.  His death was so devastating to us, we haven't had a dog since.  I would get one but Bill couldn't take another loss of one of our pets.

Horace was special to me.  Horace was my "buddy."  Growing up our family had dogs.  Sure they liked me but they were always my father's dogs.  Of the five dogs we've had, four of them took up with Bill.  Sure, they liked me but when push came to shove, Bill was the one they went too.  Horace was the only dog in my life that CHOSE ME.

I don't know exactly why.  Maybe because I rescued him from a pet shop window during my lunch hour one day when he was being overwhelmed by the bigger dogs in the window.  I had no intention of buying a $300 dog from a pet shop in center city Philadelphia on that August day in 1982, believe you me.

The mistake I made was going in the store to inquire about the price of "that doggie in the window."  Of course you know what the pet shop owner did (the sly salesman he was).  He said "Here, I'll get him for you and you can hold him."  Oh oh!  What was I going to say?  What could it harm?

I swathe salesman pick up the little orange fluff that was Horace as a puppy and hold Horace away from him while he sprayed him with something (which I later found out to be a deodorant because Horace stunk when I got him home - puppy mill and all that which I didn't know at the time, naive me).

He hands Horace to me and I hold him to my chest.  He didn't stink when I held him (or at least I didn't smell the stink, that came later when I took him home).

As I cradled Horace to my chest (he fit real good by the way), Horace looks up at me as if to say "Please take me away from here."  Well, it doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened next.  I bought him on the spot!  Oh yeah, I BOUGHT HIM.

Now here was a problem. I had to go back to work and now I have this stinking, three pound orange fur ball in a cardboard box with handles to take back to work with me for the afternoon.  What was I going to do with him?  Good thing my bank operations manager position provided me with a desk back in the corner of the third floor of the Morris Building on Chestnut Street.

I returned to work and put the Box With A Dog In It behind my desk.  Of course several people in my unit asked "What's in the box?"  I forget exactly what I said but I don't remember telling them it was a dog.  I didn't want everyone back there "oohing" and "aching" and creating a distraction.  Just get through the afternoon Ron.

Horace was quiet.  Them there was a whimper.  I put my hand in the box on top of his greasy orange fur.  He stopped whimpering.  I did that every time that afternoon when he whimpered.

Next stop, the commuter train home.  I didn't know if they had a rule about pets on a train but I wasn't going to take any chances.  I wasn't going to go to the train with a dog on a leash.  Horace stays in the box.  So there I go to the train station with my briefcase (the Big Deal Businessman from the Big City) and a cardboard box with handles and three pounds of stink in a box.

I get on the train amongst my fellow commuters.  I find a seat in the back away from most of the other commuters.  An occasional whimper emits from The Box.  My hand automatically goes in the box and the whimpers stop.

After we're on our way for the seventy minute commute to my home in Downingtown, the train conductor ambles by to punch my commuter ticket.  He pauses and looks at me and casts a casual glance at The Box. I'm holding my breath praying that Horace doesn't whimper because I don't want to HAVE TO EXPLAIN WHY I BROUGHT A DOG ON THE TRAIN.  In retrospect me having a dog on the train probably wouldn't have been a problem but I just didn't want to GO THERE.  I had visions of being thrown off the train somewhere near Paoli and having to call Bill to pick me up and then explain to Bill why I was thrown off the train.  Oh no, I still had to think of what I was going to tell Bill when he picked me up at the train station in Downingtown.  He didn't know I BOUGHT A DOG.

The crises pasts with the train conductor and me moves on.  Another thirty minutes or so left on my commute.  I kept my hand in the box the whole time remaining.

Horace a few days after his arrival at our home

We arrive in Downingtown.  I disembark from the train, looking to see where Bill parked his Jeep Wrangler.  I see him.  He sees me.  He sees I have a package.  I knows I'm a shopaholic.  With some bemusement he asks "Well, what did you buy this time?" 

As I'm placing the Box With a Dog in the back seat I nonchalantly tell him "A puppy."  Hey, I'm not one for beating around the bush.  Just get out the news and deal with it.

Bill says "What did you say?"  I said "A puppy."  He turns around and looks at me to see if I'm serious and says "You have GOT TO BE KIDDING?"  That's when I turned around and took the Box With a Dog off the back seat and put it on my lap.  I pull out the Stinkball that is Horace.

Bill's eye just about popped out like the Roadrunner's when he sees the "BEEP-BEEP" bird.  Bill couldn't believe it.

The rest of the ride home Bill bemoaned and groaned and said "You'll have to take him back!" I knew that wasn't going to happen once I let Bill hold him.


Bill was a goner.  We had a new dog in the house.

Now as I said before, we've had dogs before.  In fact, we had just lost another dog (also orange like Horace) a few months before.  Bill at that time said "Never again!"  As I said before, Bill just can't take the loss.

Well, once he held Baby Horace (which is what he called him at that time - the name "Horace" is a subject for another whole blog posting), he (Bill that is) was a goner.  Horace now had a new home.  '

Horace - at home

Bill with one of our other dogs - Sparky - they always choose him

Now here is the interesting part.  Horace had "picked me."  Horace had bonded with me.  All dogs we had before always bonded with Bill.  We got two dogs since Horace and they also bonded with Bill.  But Horace "picked me."  I was Horace's sun, moon and reason for being.  I think what did it was me putting my hand in the box that afternoon and on the train.

From that first day in the house Horace wouldn't let me out of his sight.  When I went to work Horace had stay in my bedroom (Bill and I sleep in different bedrooms) and spent the day lying on the clothes I wore when I was home.  He wanted to be near my scent.

For the next sixteen years (which is a long life for a Pomeranian toy dog), Horace was my "buddy."  He loved to go for rides with me.

You never saw a more pitiful expression on a dog's face if I left for someplace in a car and didn't take Horace with me.  He LOVED riding with me.  I would often visit my Mom.  Horace would have to go.  At my Mom's I would open the car door and Horace would jump out.  I never had to use a leash with Horace, he always kept me in his sight.  Here is Horace with my brother Isaac and my Mother.  Notice how he is keeping me in his line of vision.




From 1982 to 1998, friends and family rarely saw me without Horace.  It was always "Ron and Horace."  We were inseparable.

Me and the older Horace during one of his last rides

Then Horace got hold. He muzzle turned white.  He started to lose his mental facilities.  He started to wet the floor overnight.  He always acted so ashamed when I came down in the morning and saw the wet floor.  I didn't mind, I cleaned it up.

Horace's favorite spot - my lap

Even though his bodily functions both mental and physical were beginning to fail him he still knew who I was.  He still looked to the door in anticipation of "a ride" whenever I headed towards the door.  He knew.

Then came the day (and it's hard to write about this even now, so many years later) that he couldn't get up. I came down to take him out.  He was still in his basket.  His eyes were open and he was breathing.  I waited for him to get out of his basket.  He couldn't move.  He had a blank star in his eyes.

I lifted him up. He was as limp as a rag doll. His head dangled down from my arms instead of resting in them like they had for the last sixteen years.  It was Time.

Me and Horace, Christmas 1984 - totally bonded - inseparable we two

I made the hard decision then and there that I had to end his suffering.  The last few months I noticed that he was rapidly going downhill but that morning his body finally gave out.  Horace had spent the last sixteen years as my devoted friend.  Now was the time for me to do the right thing.

Old Horace - closer to the End

I called my vet and told him what happened.  He told me to come down right away.  I took Horace for his last ride.  He rode in my lap instead of having his front paws on the driver's window like he always did.  He seemed to know that this ride was different (so hard for me to write this now).

Horace about a year before he died - 1997 - old but still with it

I took him into the vet's office and was ushered in right away to a side room.  Dr. Pollack (the vet) came out of a side room with his equipment.  He asked me "Do you want to be with him?"  Of course I said "Yes."  I got Horace when he was just a young pup and I would be with him now, at the end of his life.  That was the least I could do.  I would not leave him now. (So hard folks, these memories, tears in my eyes).

The end was quick and painless.  I left with Horace's limp now dead body wrapped in his afghan blanket that he always slept on.  Bill was waiting for me in the car.  He was crying (Bill can't handle these situations).

Bill drove home, I had Horace in my lap.  At home we placed Horace's body in a freezer chest (we bury all out dogs in an air tight freezer chest).  Bill dug a hole out in the flower garden where our other two dogs were buried.  Horace had outlived them all.  One was "T" who was a blonde Pom and Bill's devoted dog.  The other was their puppy "Babydoll", the offspring of "T" and "Horace".  Horace and T only had two pups.  One we sold (which we always regretted, that's why we never raised any more Pom pups).

All right, I've been through five tissues so far in writing this blog.  I don't know what's the matter with me but I get more emotional over a loss of a pet than I do people.

The pain of the loss of Horace, the only animal friend who "chose" me, was almost unbearable.  When I went to work the next week every time I would think about Horace I would choke up and the tears would flow.  Thank goodness I wasn't crying out loud.  I don't think I've ever had a loud cry in my life, I usually just tear up real bad and choke up.  I'm telling you folks, it took me MONTHS to get to the point where I could even think about Horace without choking up.

These days when I'm looking at The End for myself I often think, will I wake up in a field of flowers (I love fields of flowers) in Heaven one day and hear Horace barking and running towards me?  Now folks, that truly would be Heaven.

Me and my Buddy for Life (and in the Hereafter) - Horace

Thoughts on Death and Dying

Sal DeRosa's birthday celebration - Service Club, Ft. George F. Meade, MD 1961

When I was young, in my twenties and thirties, I rarely thought about dying and death.  Now that I am seventy years old I often think about dying and death.

I've written about this subject before only to be chastised by a blogger friend (for whom I have much respect) who advised me not to dwell on dying and death.  However, he recently turned fifty (a mear child compared to my advanced years) and recently wrote his own blog post about death and dying.  That's what happens folks if you're fortunate enough to live long enough to reflect on death and dying.

I've also been thinking about this subject a lot lately because of two books I've been reading.  One is about prisoners of war during World War II in the Phillipines, specifically the Bataan Death March.  A survivor wrote the book.  It is amazing that so many underwent those hellish conditions because of their strong will to survive.

I also recently read a book about a Jewish woman from Poland who was a slave laborer for the Nazi's during World War II.  She also survived hellish conditions to write about her ordeal.  The overriding subject was her strong will to survive.

Right now a good friend of mine two parents, 94 and 92 years old respectively are in facilities near death.  He is dealing with that stressful situation as I write this.

The past few years man of my friends, former co-workers and relatives have died.  Quite a few younger than me.  A few weeks ago a very popular young gay man who I knew slightly was hit by a drunk driver in Rehoboth and his life ended in a flash.  Yes, I am quite aware of the fragility of life and the nearness of death especially at my age which is seventy.

At the top of this blog is a photo of a happy group of young people.  It was taken at Ft. George G. Meade, Maryland in 1961 (I think, I may be a year off).  It was at the Service Club for enlisted men.  The occasion was my friend Sal DeRosa's 26th birthday.



The man holding the knife to Sal's throat is John D. Bicking, Jr.

The laughing man seated to the far right was my good friend Ronald Hampton.

The man seated to Sal's right, behind the red-headed woman, was our friend Peter Puphsis.

In the back, second from the left, the tall guy with his eyes closed....that's me.  Still alive.

Oh the stories behind the folks in this picture.  That would be subject for many future blog postings but I'll stick with one subject on this blog posting, death.  All those people I mentioned are now dead.

All gone now

Ron and Sal were my two gay friends while I was in the Army.  They were the first gay people I met.  John Bicking and Peter Pupshis were straight but they didn't give a shit that we were gay.  We were all friends.  In fact, most of us "played the game" and had girl friends at the Service Club dances, thus the presence of women in this photo.

John Bicking knew that Sal and Ron were hot after him.  Of course none of us did anything about it in those days.  This was the Sixties remember?  The point I want to make was all the life and camaraderie that we had in spite of our differences.  Now those friends of mine are gone.

I don't know about most of the other people in the photo.  I assume they're gone too.  I seem to be the lone survivor.  Maybe I should feel guilty about that but I don't.  I feel that I have been chosen, for what I do not know.  All I know is that my time isn't over yet.

This photo and these names are but a very small representation of friends that are now gone.  I could fill many pages of photos of friends who I am also standing with in photos, who are now gone.  Yet I am left.

George Hadfield, my maternal grandfather - the only grandparent I ever knew

I remember something my grandfather told me when he was 86 years old, one year before he died.  He said  "Ronnie, the bad thing about getting old is that you lose all your friends.  I have no friends left." That statement has always stuck with me because I remember how sad I was for my grandfather when he said that.  He was a very gregarious and social man and towards the end he felt like the odd man out.  Sure, he had children and grandchildren and great grandchildren but his friends....gone.

The older I get the more I feel like the odd man out.  I still have some friends who are my age (mostly from school days) that I stay in contact with.  However, they seem to be dying with increasing frequency lately.  Each year I have to stock up on sympathy cards.

I feel like I'm rambling here, but I did want to write about this subject that has been on my mind a lot lately.

I do not fear death.  I think once we die there is a big void of which we are unaware.  Of course I realize I'm offending all those of you who subscribe to various religious theories.  I don't, they never made sense to me, no offense.

What I do fear is being alone when I die.  That is a real fear.  Secondly I fear being helpless and dependent on others while I'm hanging on to the last vestiges of my life.  I do not want anyone caring for me.  I do not want to end up wearing diapers when I die.  I don't want to die confused, in discomfort and pain.  I do not want to go that way.

Every day I take an afternoon nap.  Lately those naps have been longer and deeper.  I think, is that what death is like?  When I go will I see my friends again?

Remember that last scene from "Longtime Companion"?  It was one of those early AIDS films.  At the end all the friends who died of AIDS related diseases met again on the beach.  Oh how I hope that is what happens when I die.  That to me would be Heaven.

This is one of my rambling blog posts.  Stream of conscience babble.  No excuses.  I'm writing from my heart.

Do not feel sad for me.  I know I will die. We all will die someday.  We just don't know when.  But I do know I have lived the majority of my life already.  I'm on the downward slide.  I'm not getting any prettier. Less people are interested in me than ever before in my life because I am no longer attractive.  Now that I'm a SENIOR CITIZEN I am irrevocably in that class of doddering old fools.  I am rarely taken seriously by younger folk.  Bill keeps telling me to color my beard (it's white) so I don't look so old.  Hey, you can only hang on to the appearances of youth so long. At some point you have to give it up and accept that you're an OLD MAN.

I have my burial plot all picked out.  I'm on the side of a hill in Downingtown, Pennsylvania.  The small town in southeastern Pennsylvania where I grew up and have many fond memories.  The cemetery is called the Northwood Cemetery.  This year I'll buy my headstone.  I'm very organized that way.  Plus that is my gay gene coming out, I want just the right headstone.  At that cemetery is also buried John Bicking, the young guy who used to tease me and my friends Ron and Sal so much when we were young and gay (pun intended) in the Army.

The view of Downingtown my from my burial lot in Northwood Cemetery - nice view.

I don't know, did I make my point in this rambling blog?  Just some random thoughts on death and dying that have been invading my head this past year or so.

Cat Lady Arrested for Dumpster Diving

We have a little kerfuffle here in the neighborhood.  A lady who rescues feral cats and finds homes for them was arrested for Dumpster Diving.  She was looking for food for feral cats she rescues.

Here is the article that appeared in the Cape Gazette today:

MILTON — Linda Compton is hoping the charges lodged against her for trespassing in a supermarket Dumpster are thrown out.

The 63-year-old Lincoln woman was arrested June 13 after she was observed and photographed searching through a Dumpster behind Food Lion in Milton. She was falsely portrayed as a local restaurant employee searching for food for human consumption when the photo went viral on Facebook.

Compton says she was collecting bits of discarded lunch meat, expired food or whatever else she could get her hands on to feed several feral cat colonies in the area, just as she's done for the last eight to nine years.

She was charged with third-degree trespassing by Milton police and will appear in court Monday, July 16, where she plans to plead not guilty.

“I understand why a store doesn't want people going in there,” said Compton's husband, Willie. “Their concern is automatically if you take something out of there, eat it and get sick, you're going to sue. She in the past has gone in and talked to managers and, for the most part, once she explains what she's doing, they'll say to go ahead.”

The photo of Compton, where she is wearing gloves and standing on a milk crate outside of the Dumpster, was posted on Facebook with a message claiming she was the owner or an employee at the China Wok restaurant in Milton. Compton said she was contacted by Milton police a few days later and taken into custody at her home outside Lincoln.

Willie Compton said he doesn't believe the charges will hold up in court because a no trespassing sign was not posted on or near the Dumpster, and no one told her to stop. A Milton Police press release of the incident claims a Food Lion employee told her to get out of the Dumpster and provided police vehicle information.

“If you put something in your trash can and put it out to the curb to be thrown away, I can go to your curb and go through your trash,” Willie Compton said. “The same thing occurs here. It doesn't matter who owns it.”

Compton has searched for food for feral cats in refuse bins for nearly a decade throughout Sussex County because it helps defray the cost of feeding the cats out of her own pocket. While traveling for work with the Visiting Nurses Association, she said, she would often stop at supermarkets and other stores to feed feral cats that congregate behind them. She has since retired, but occasionally she still makes trips to feed the cats.

The food she pulls from the dumpsters is often expired or unusable bits and pieces from the deli, she said. In many cases, Compton said, she explains her intent to the store manager and many are supportive of her efforts. However, the turnover rate of store managers is high and, she said, she often catches a new manager unaware.

“Some of the managers are really nice,” she said. “Once they see me and what I'm doing, they know that I'm telling the truth. A manager always comes out with an employee to put the stuff in the trash and some of the managers tell [their employees] to give me the stuff instead of throwing it away.”

But feeding feral cats from local bins is only part of her work. She also provides food to more than 30 feral cats around her home and cares for newborn kittens in her guest house when the situation arises. She also take traps out to colonies in order to have them spayed or neutered. In the case of kittens, she tries to take them in quickly so they can be domesticated.

“In Sussex County, we're just overrun with them,” Willie Compton said. “SPCA has a no-kill policy, which is a good thing. You admire them for that, but also as a consequence, they have no room to take in more cats.”

If Compton is able to take in kittens within the first four to six weeks of their lives, she is able to care for them before sending them off to be adopted at a Pet Smart store. She is currently caring for 16 kittens, which hasn't been an easy task.

“In some cases they're not weened yet, so she ends up bottle feeding and hand-feeding them,” Willie Compton said. “In some cases, if you take them away from their mother they don't want to eat.”

Kittens born in the wild also tend to have medical issues, such as eye infections. While Compton receives some help with the cost of the veterinarian bills, she pays for a lot medicine and procedures out of her own pocket. She spent more than $750 last month. She also buys cat food to feed kittens rather than feed them food she's picked from the trash.

“I don't mind because it needs to be done,” Compton said.

She also receives some financial help from area feral cat and animal-control organizations. Willie Compton describes his wife as a soft-hearted woman who has a passion for caring for the many feral cats in the community.

“We feel like it's a community service,” he said. “It's very important to Linda.”

The Comptons' efforts haven't gone unnoticed. Compton said on several occasions she's found a box of unwanted kittens in her driveway because people know that they will be cared for. Ultimately, she said, it comes down to providing the feral population with a better life.

“When I go out there, I see that they are so thin and not healthy looking,” she said. “It's a hard life out there.”

I wish Bill didn't hate cats.  I would definitely take those two orange kittens.  


It just breaks my heart to hear and read about feral cats and kittens having to fend for themselves in this harsh world.  


I'm not a religious person but I do feel that there should be a special place in Heaven for people like this lady and all those who help our critter friends who all they want to do is survive in this world.  


A blogger friend of mine recently wrote a blog about how he is overwhelmed with taking care of about a dozen feral cats that his former neighbor used to take care of now they look to him for survival.


Survival is on my mind recently because I am now reading a book about the Bataan Death March and prisoners of war of the Japanese.  I read of the horrific conditions that these prisoners had to endure just to survive.  I recently finished a book about a Jewish woman who was a slave laborer for the Nazis in Poland during World War II.  Same story of survival that just broke my heart.  


Most of us have an easy life and don't have to do much to survive a good, comfortable long life.  The least we can do is to help those who are less fortunate than we are, especially animals like feral cats.  


Sometimes I get depressed about the selfishness of human nature.  I think a lot of this has to do with Mitt Romeny (The Liar) who is running for president.  Such a selfish man and so many like him (the Tea Baggers in this Republican Party which isn't your father's Republican party).  


I try so hard to not get depressed when constantly barraged with the evilness that "businessman" like Romney do to get their millions while the hell with everyone else.  And they still don't have enough,they want more.  And this is the man who put his dog on the roof of his car for a 12 hour vacation trip.  


I know, I know.  I'm all over the place here but I think the readers of this blog who are more serious about life will understand what I'm trying to convey.  Reading this news about this woman is the perfect antidote for all the bad news today.  Isn't it ironic that even though she is doing the right and good thing, she's in trouble?  That's the problem with this world today.  Do the right thing and someone will try and take you down.  

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Snake in a Box

Peek-a-boo!

No, "Snake in a Box" isn't a Saturday Night Live song by Justin Timberlake.  This is what Bill encountered while we were in Ashville, North Carolina in May during our annual vacation trek to my father's roots in the mountains of western North Carolina.

I was at the church cemetery in Asheville where my great-great grandmother Martha "Patty" Bailey Tipton Cooper was buried.  I was there to take a photo of her headstone as well as fulfilling other Find a Grave.com requests.  While I'm taking photos of gravestones, Bill usually wanders around the cemetery, looking at headstones and patiently waiting for me to finish taking my photos.  By the way, do you know of anybody else who would be that patient with me?  Me neither.

Bill found a bluebird house, much like the ones we have in our backyard.  He took a peek in the bluebird house and was surprised to find a big black snake looking right back at him!  So the myths about snakes eating bluebird eggs (or even live baby bluebirds, God forbid) is probably true.

Bill made it his mission to get that snake out of the bluebird box.  Scary stuff.  I took a short video which I posted in an earlier blog which you may or may not have seen.  I missed taking the video when Bill flung the snake out of the box.  Did I ever!  That was some BIG SNAKE!  And it happened so fast.  So I missed the video.  However, I thought I had taken some photos also.  This morning while searching my photo files I came across these photos of Bill's encounter with THE SNAKE.  Scary stuff huh?

And just for the record, Bill didn't kill the snake.  He just got it out of the box.  It slithered (fast) on the ground near the bird box to the woods nearby.  I never saw a snake move so fast.

Mission accomplished Bill!

Bill gets the snake out

Oh No They Didn't!

Have you heard?  The uniforms for U.S. Olympic athletes were made in China?

WHAT?

Finally the Democrats and Republicans have something they agree on.  Both agree that the U.S. Olympic Committee derision to dress the U.S. team in Chinese manufactured berets, blazers and pants while the American textile industry struggles economically with many U.S. workers desperate for jobs.

WHAT?

Is Mitt "The Liar" Romney still heading the U.S. Olympic Committee and still outsourcing jobs to China.  Even if Mittsy was heading up the U.S. Olympic Committee, he's so secretive he would never tell us or lie about it.  He's good at lying but I digress.  I'll get on Mittsy's lying ways in another post.

So who came up with this brain dead idea that CHINA should make the U.S. Olympic athletes uniforms?

I heard on the news this morning that Ralph Lauren (real name "Ralph Lifshitz", no wonder he changed his name) DOESN'T HAVE MANUFACTURING PLANTS IN THE U.S.! Well folks, GET SOMEONE ELSE!  Ralph Lifshitz Lauren makes enough money anyway with his obscenely overpriced jeans.  Hey, it's not like he needs the money.  He's already worth 7.5 billion dollars, largely as a result of cheap Chinese labor.  God forbid he should use the U. S. labor force to make his overpriced duds.  He probably has accounts in the Cayman Islands and a few Swiss bank accounts too.  Seems that the self important mucky mucks who are entangled with the U.S. Olympics always come out ahead money wise.  Mittsy (Mitt "The Liar" Romney) seems to have done very well but I digress.

WHAT?

And what's with the berets?  I HATE BERETS!  No, it's not because they're SO FRENCH but they're just stupid looking.  Thank God when I was in the Army there were NO BERETS.  And I'm gay! To me wearing a beret looks like you're wearing your sister's panties on your head at an angle.

WHAT?

Here is what Harry Reid, the Senate Majority Leader said in response to the news that our Olympic team will be wearing Ralph Lifshitz Lauren duds are the opening ceremonies:


"I am so upset. I think the Olympic committee should be ashamed of themselves. I think they should be embarrassed. I think they should take all the uniforms, put them in a big pile and burn them and start all over again," 

Hey Harry!  I agree with you!  Burn the rags.  Charge it all to the personal accounts of the mucky mucks on the U.S. Olympic Committee and Ralph Lifshitz Lauren.

Nancy Pelosi told reporters at a her weekly news conferencethat she's proud of the nation's Olympic athletes, but "they should be wearing uniforms that are made in America."


And fasten your seat belts folks, even House Speaker John Boehner said simply of the USOC 
"You'd think they'd know better."

Precisely!

Of course the U.S. Olympic Committee circled the wagons and defended the choice of designer Ralph Lifshitz Lauren and responded in indigent outrage:

"Unlike most Olympic teams around the world, the U.S. Olympic Team is privately funded and we're grateful for the support of our sponsors," USOC spokesman Patrick Sandusky said in a statement. "We're proud of our partnership with Ralph Lauren, an iconic American company, and excited to watch America's finest athletes compete at the upcoming Games in London."


What other response would we expect from the folks in power?  Of course they DID NOTHING WRONG.  Think they would take responsibility for making a BIG MISTAKE?  Oh no.  Well, big shots on the U.S. Olympic Committee, you're going to lose on this one.  


By the way, I couldn't care less out the U.S. Olympics.  All those pampered athletes.  Who wants to see our professional basketball players win another  gold medal?  


BORING!


Who wants to see Michael Phelps, the swimmer with the LONG torso and short legs (built for swimming folks) and the twisted mouth win more gold medals?


BORING!


And who wants to see all those commercials on the television coverage?  


BORING!


Years ago I used to love watching the Olympics but the Olympics lost their luster and interest with me when they went professional.


BORING!


But even if I don't watch the Olympics I do think that AT LEAST the uniforms that our "team" should wear U.S. made uniforms to the Olympics.


What do you think?

Ralph Lifshitz Lauren fouls the Olympics with his name

P.S.


I just say a news report that Ralph Lifshitz Lauren will be paid almost a million bucks by the U.S. Olympic Committee for his Made in China uniforms.  Are you kidding me?  He's not DONATING the uniforms to the athletes?  This man who is worth 7.5 billion dollars?  What's wrong with this picture?

Too Darn Hot!

The temps have lightened up a bit but it is still TOO DARN HOT!  This is Texas weather mother!

Fall, where are thy cool breezes to caress my wrinkled visage?

Last night, during a break in our current heat wave, Bill mowed the lawn and I did the trimming.  I was a couple weeks behind the trimming, the long grass was starting to go to seed.  Bill and I have discussed about letting the backyard go "au naturale" but I don't think the neighbors would like it.  We don't want to be one of THOSE neighbors.

Today I go to work.  We had a problem last week cooling down the VIP suite because of the 100 degree plus heat.  Had to comp the room.  I hated to do it but we have to keep the guest happy and they don't spend that kind of money for a hot room.  I agreed to check in the guest early.  My mistake.  That won't happen again.  Apparently I was supposed to know to turn on the air conditioning the night  before.  Something I didn't know but I do now.  No more hot rooms for hotel guests.  No more checking in early either.  Lesson learned.

Thank goodness our electricity is on and air conditioning working.  We keep the temperature at 78 degrees in Casa Tipton-Kelly.  Sounds warm but when we come in from the sauna outside, it feels like we stepped into a walk-in freezer.

I can't do too much outside unless I want to have two and three shower days.  Last week I had a couple of three shower days.  Every peel off a T-shirt that is soaked?  Lovely.

Alright Repugs, how come I don't hear you all whining about the hoax of global warming?  All I hear is silence (crickets chirping).  Same as with I don't hear anything about blaming Obama for the high gas prices.  Oh wait, the gas prices have fallen.  Crickets chirping.  I guess the Repugs are too busy voting again to repeal Obama Care....for the 31st time.

How did I degenerate into a political rant?  Sometimes I just can't help myself because it is:

TOO DARN HOT!

Madmen Cast Review - Part 2

Joan in the office of "Madmen"

Part duex of my "Madmen" cast/character review.  I'm expecting my new DVD's from Netflix to arrive in the mail today.  Oh man am I ever addicted to this show.  I'm in year 2010, halfway through the series.  I haven't met Don Draper's new wife yet.  Gee, I wonder who it could be with all the babes he's porking and yet he calls his wife "a whore" because she LOOKS at another guy.  Oh so sure with the horn dog guys in our culture.

Here is the balance of my review of the cast of characters and actors on "Madmen."

Peter Campbell - smug and arrogant and pushy.  Any of us who have worked in the business world know this type.  Unfortunately he has some talent so he gets away with his selfishness and arrogance.  Oh wait a minute, Mitt Romney?

Ken Cosgrove - earnest, straight laced and also talented but without the selfishness and meanness of Pete Campbell.  A good man, the type that I befriended when I was in the business world.

Harry Crane - the Office Nerd.  Who hasn't worked in the business world that didn't have a "Harry Crane" in the office?  Harry is talented but oh so reluctant to take a risk.  Haven't we all known a "Harry Crane"?

Lane Pryce - the executive from the company that brought out the ad agency.  Originally he eliminated jobs and then discovered that his job would be eliminated.  Been there, done that.  Lane decides to screw corporate headquarters and side with those eliminated and start a new company.  Not sure if his British accent is legit.

Henry Francis - Betty Draper's new husband.  First of all, I think this actor is way more sexy than Jon Hamm who plays Don Draper.  I think he's a better actor too.  Plus, I also like that the characters in "Madmen" have real names like "Henry" instead of those phony soap opera names like "Chase" or "Liam".  I like this character and actor.  

Sally Crane - the daughter of Don and Betty Draper.  Yet another child actor who can't act.  Watching this "actress" act is actually painful.  She must be the daughter of one of the creators of the show.  

Megan Draper - Don Draper's new wife.  I'm not far enough along in watching the DVD's of "Madmen" to know where she comes in so I don't have an opinion of her except that she looks a like like half the other women Don Draper has been plugging.  

There you go folks.  There are a lot of other characters but I won't review them here. I will say though that the most despicable character is "Glenn".  Is is the "little boy" next door who is an adult pervert in the making.  He makes my skin crawl.  Don't only for his lizard like appearance but that the actor who portrays him is so God awful.

Joan the Office Manager in "Madmen" - talk about an office distraction