Puppy love

Believe it or not, I'm disgusted... again. I just realized that come tomorrow, the "new Congress" will have been in control for the past 60 days, and they have yet to enact any laws defining puppy love as "the natural attraction between a dog and another dog." As things stand now, puppy love is recklessly used to describe feelings of infatuation between two adolescent humans... or as a term often used in a derogatory fashion describing emotions which are shallow and transient (i.e., Stew's crush on Jennifer Love Hewitt). Worse yet, I've heard blasphemous assertions that puppy love could be used to describe the allure of a kitten to a puppy. A puppy's only interest in a kitten is as a potential food source. Any puppy with an attraction to a kitten is purely sick and in need of closetification: a term used to describe when a sick puppy must sweep his kitty attraction under the “shame rug.” It is a natural survival tactic due to societal malcontent over the issue of marginalized sectors (see also "the defaggification of Rev. Ted Haggard"). Within no time we'd have dogs and cats living together resulting in total hysteria. Dogs and cats are not meant to propagate (as stated in Chapter 5 of The Dog Bible: RAISING A GOOD PUPPY - http://www.thedogbible.com). Now, it's been said that my cat attacks are spiteful. True. I admit it, and I'll sincerely try to temper my tirades in the future. However, I must stand firm on my belief that puppy love remains as intended - between two dogs.

One thing Congress (or at least the House) was able to accomplish so far was passing a non-binding resolution stating that Congress supports the troops but does not support Dubya's "surge" plan. Wow... way to guy, Dems! You're really sending a message to Dubya, Dick and the boys... Unfortunately, something got lost in translation 'cause they're about to bomb the Shiite out of Iran (or is it Sunni?). I can never keep 'em straight. Isn't this resolution a lot like me telling Hershey's that while I love the classic Reese's and it's perfect combination of creamy peanut butter goodness inside a rich milk chocolate cup, I cannot support Hershey's decision to create a crunchy version of this treat (http://www.hersheys.com/crunchy/ecards/ecard.aspx?HF03CRD=QCOQOUB1D3R5K8Q0). I suspect Hershey's will ignore my decree much the same way the Executive Branch ignores Congress... and the American people for that matter. And now the Democrats are considering repealing the 2002 legislation approving the war in Iraq... so Hillary doesn't have to apologize for voting for the war and the rest of them can save face for having used poor judgement in voting for it in the first place. It's back to business as usual in Washington... and they don't seem to have any problem continuing to play the game.

Anyway, I've been very busy following the babblings of Minnesota Congresswoman Michele Bachmann (http://dumpbachmann.blogspot.com/). As if Jesse Ventura wasn't humiliating enough for our state, now we have an intolerant nutcase in Washington representing us (not my district, but still...) At least her hubby performs the aforementioned "defaggification" process for his church, so he can't be all bad. Anyway, here's a cute picture of Claire to remind you why I'm raving mad about the state of the world these days... we need to stop the madness for the sake of Claire and all her little buddies!

Nobody calls me Lebowski... I'm the Dude, man!

[For you The Big Lebowski fans]

Way out in Wisconsin there was this fella I wanna tell ya' about. He's a hound dog who belongs to a guy who goes by the name of Jason Schindler. See, this hound, he called himself "The Dude". Now, Dude, there's a name no dog would self-apply where I come from. But then there was a lot about the Dude that didn't make a whole lot of sense. And a lot about where he lived, likewise. But then again, maybe that's why I found the place so darned interestin'. See, they call Wisconsin The Cheesy State, but I didn't find it to be that, exactly. But I'll allow it as there are some strange folks there. 'Course, I ain't never been to London, and I ain't never seen France. And I ain't never seen no queen in her damned undies, so the fella says. But I'll tell you what, after seeing Wisconsin, and this here story I'm about to unfold, well, I guess I seen somethin' every bit as stupefyin' as you'd seen in any of them other places. And in English, too. Now this here story I'm about to unfold took place Monday. I only mention it because sometimes there's a dog, I wont say a hero, 'cause what's a hero? Sometimes, there's a dog. And I'm talkin' about the Dude here - The dude from Wisconsin. Sometimes, there's a dog, well, he's the dog for his time and place. He fits right in there. And that's the Dude. The Dude, from Wisconsin. And even if he's a lazy hound - and the Dude was most certainly that - quite possibly the laziest in all of Monroe County. Which would place him high in the runnin' for laziest worldwide. Sometimes there's a dog, sometimes, there's a dog. Well, I lost my train of thought here. But... aw, hell. I've done introduced it enough. Now I'm too tired to tell the story, so why don't ya just read about it here:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17352099/?GT1=9033

One thing I can say about the Dude... that hound really tied the room together.

The Claire Stewart Experience

Grandma and Grandpa are coming from the farm for a visit, so Stew's got me doing the usual routine - running around the house picking up crap and stuffing it into any available closet and/or drawer. He wants to give the impression that he can keep a clean house. Let's just hope neither Helen nor Bob decides to open the guest room closet... they're liable to have a mound of "stuff" spill on top of them.

So, since I don't have a lot of time today, I thought I'd just post these pictures of Claire doing her best Jimi Hendrix impersonation with Stew's strumstick. The strumstick is supposed to be the easiest instrument in the world to play, which explains why Stew's sits in his closet... right next to his set of bongo drums and his harmonica (http://www.strumstick.com). Anyway, due to it's location in Claire's nursery, Stew has transferred ownership of his closet to Claire. So, when Claire saw all the instruments, she decided to take up the strumstick first... you can already bet on seeing future bongo pictures. Claire seems very excited about the strumstick, especially the prospect of becoming a guitar virtuoso like her hero, Jimi. She's mostly worried about her ability to grow an afro comparable to Jimi's. But, as you can see, she's already mastered the ability to play the instrument with her mouth. And, we have an agreement that she won't actually start the strumstick on fire (like Jimi used to do in his act) until she's at least 4 yrs old. Lastly, Claire and I have already had the talk about the dangers of illicit drugs, and Claire tells me that she's "high on life just groovin' to my tunes, man... can you dig it, dog?" So, I assured Claire that I, in fact, CAN dig it... and that I often do. Speaking of dogs, somebody is barking in my ear to get crackin' on my chores. Have a fantabulous weekend, especially you crazy cats.

I'm too sexy for my cat

If you're like me, then you're a huge fan of the 1990's super-group Right Said Fred (http://www.rightsaidfred.com) and their song, "I'm Too Sexy." And, if you're like me, you have four legs and can lick yourself. So, I'm going to go out on a limb and just assume there's only a handful of dogs (and possibly a couple contortionists) who "subscribe" to my blog. The rest of you regular humans likely don't appreciate the lyrical prowess of this powerhouse group. Fifteen years after the release of their worldwide smash, “I’m Too Sexy”, Right Said Fred has transformed itself into one of the most exciting pop bands of the new millennium. Their music features more hooks per square inch than a fisherman’s tackle box. Band mates and brothers, Richard and Fred Fairbrass, inhabit their own musical world, creating little slices of pop heaven filled with delicious melodies, gorgeous harmonies and uplifting grooves. There's also a third guy in the band, but nobody really gives a rip about him or his squirrel's nest hairdo. The band broke up for a little while after they hit a lull in record sales (from 1993 through 2003), but they eventually found success in Germany. You've gotta love those crazy Germans. I thank them everyday for making David Hasselhoff a rich man. Nobody deserves to be a millionaire more than the ultra-talented "Hoff," except for maybe William Hung (http://www.williamhung.net/movie.cfm?movie=shebangshi.wmv). But I have to blame America for Mr. Hung's success. The American dream has turned into a joke, especially since the advent of reality television. The fact that I know who Lauren Conrad is makes me ill (she play's herself on MTV scripted-reality shows, Laguna Beach and The Hills). Momma and Stew are MTV reality show addicts. I'm not sure why they watch the shows because all they do is scream "you're a [bleeping] idiot!" at every character that appears on the screen. Ms. Conrad even has her own website now (http://www.laurenconrad.com), which both amazes and disgusts me because her and her "co-stars" are all a bunch of 18+ year old spoiled rich kids with low self-esteem and extremely inflated egos. How does that happen? So, apparently, in order to become famous in America, you don't need talent. Instead, you need to know how to market yourself in a way that gives the appearance that you have talent. And then you have to be overly-confident in your pretend talent so that the media is tricked into thinking you have real talent so that they promote your pretend talent as being real. Then, the general public becomes brainwashed into thinking "wow, he must be real talented to be getting this much media attention" because they see your face and name everywhere they look. Take Britney Spears, for example. She was fairly talented as a child. She could sing and dance. But let's face it, some of those Mickey Mouse Club kids weren't any more talented than most kids the same age... it's just that they were nerdy enough to actually want to sing and dance instead of go to the mall to play video games, or experiment with cigarettes in the alley behind the neighborhood grocerette. But compare Britney to either Christina Aguilera (Stew's girlfriend) or Justin Timberlake today. There is no comparison because Christina and Justin have real talent, and Britney was exposed for the fraud she is. Her singing voice reminds me of a wounded rabbit or a pesky insect. There is no logical reason she should be selling millions of records, and her decline in sales in the last few years proves this. Obviously, Britney has had a run of bad luck lately and is in a tailspin. Let's all hope she gets the help she needs, but let's also all hope she finally retires afterwards. She has enough money, and if there's one thing we've all learned these past few weeks it's that hillbillies and money do not mix.

Now, back to Right Said Fred... I brought them up because I caught Claire and papa Stew singing "I'm too sexy for my bath" the other day. I thought it was simply adorable, so I asked Claire to pose for a photo. She likes to make motorboat sounds quite often, so there's a chance she'll grow up to be a singer... we'll just have to wait and see. If she has Stew's dancing talents, then she'll grow up to be quite a break-dancer.

Nice try, Sammy the Cat

If anyone read the comment from Sammy the Cat in yesterday's blog, then I'm sure you'll agree that it was a weak attempt at feline vindication. Sammy, if that is your real name, claims that cats are a more sophisticated animal species than canines. It appears the foundation of this groundless claim is the mere fact that cats "confine (their) mess to litter boxes..." while us dogs use the backyard as our outhouse. This would be a justifiable assertion if the cat actually cleaned the litter box after using it. Instead, like the selfish animal it is, the cat relies on humans to do the dirty work. And what about the smell (and don't give me that crap about odorless litter boxes... pun intended... ask any non-cat owner their thoughts on a house containing an "odorless" litter box). On the other hand, by dogs doing our thing outdoors, the human simply needs to scoop the turds and toss 'em over the fence into the neighbor's yard. It takes all of three seconds. Therefore, I submit that dogs are the true friend of mankind.

Now, to address the deceptive claim that cats actually saved a man's life (http://www.rockmom.com/discuss/msgReader$379). Pussy, please! I've read this story, and it's clear to me the life-saving deed was simply the unintentional outcome of the actions of self-centered cats. I don't see where the cats ran into a burning building to save children - like dogs do daily. I don't see where the cats climbed a mountain in a blizzard to save stranded climbers - like dogs do seasonally. I don't see where the cats took on a 2,000 lb bull to save a bull fighter - like dogs apparently do if they've had too much tequila. No, instead I read how a dying man was forced to get out of the comfort of his bed because Tabby needed attention. Furthermore, the man had to keep pushing them off his death bed BECAUSE HE DIDN'T WANT THEM THERE! These cats are so vain that they will pee on a dying man's bed just because they want -- or, rather NEED -- attention. If this isn't a clear indication of the cat's haughtiness, then I don't know what is. What a pitiful animal. And the writer of the sad story goes on to say she named her two new kitties, Attilla and Hun (obviously named after Atilla the Hun, the epitome of cruelty and rapacity). Case closed.

Claire is so upset with Sammy's comment that she asked that I post a photo of her with just a few of her favorite animal friends. Notice how she didn't select any cats or kitties to join her in the photo. The explanation is simple: even at her young age, Claire is a great judge of character.

Save your life - get a dog

The evidence just keeps piling up. Once again, I've stumbled upon more proof that dogs can add years to your life. I don't make these things up, people. Basically, a dog will save your life while a cat will slowly suck the life out of you. Ever hear the story telling how a cat will sit on a baby's chest and steal the baby's breath? Well, I believe it. Cat's are pure evil. Merriam-Webster's dictionary provides the following definitions of "cat":

CAT: [noun]
1) A walking ego with fur.
2) A small furry beast resembling a meatloaf.
3) A vile, malevolent creature that leaches off the kindness of humans.
4) A four-legged baby assassin.

Enough about cats. Following is evidence linking dogs to increased lifespan, as well as a greater quality of life for babies...

This link will take you to an amazing video of a stray dog saving the life of a bull fighter (no, I did not write this incorrectly):
http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=f1e4b_4607

This link will take you to a story about how the latest stranded climbers on Mt. Hood were saved by a black lab mix (note: Stew says stranded climbers should be left on the mountain to teach them a lesson, but you can't stop a rescue dog from completing his mission):
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17237251/

This link will take you to a video showing a huge dog tickling a little toddler (note: I hope that doggie bed is fresh out of the washing machine... but I doubt it):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=005f0GFAjJk

Finally, below is photographic proof of how dogs bring joy and happiness to the lives of babies.

Whatchoo talkin' about, Willis?

I know it's unlikely for me to present a conspiracy theory on Presidents' Day. Well, rest easy because my theory does NOT involve Dubya (or his daddy's small, powerful group of elitists who use the mass media to condition and persuade passive audiences into conforming to their wishes). No, my conspiracy theory is much more sinister. So sinister in fact that, after presenting my supposition to Claire, she gave me the look you see in this photo (ala Arnold from Different Strokes fame). If my speculation is accurate, then it proves Linda is more diabolical than she is sweet and innocent. You might recall Stew and Linda are undergoing a 16-week weightloss challenge, which Claire has so eloquently dubbed The Chubby Challenge. Each participant has 16 weeks to lose 10% of their body weight. In just the first week of the contest, Linda has shown the gloves are off. Allow me to set the stage, if you will...

About a week and a half ago, an honorable Stew stopped buying brownies and/or cookies from the grocery store in a good faith effort to lose weight while - at the same time - supporting his loving wife in her goal to do the same. Having massive amounts of baked sweets around the house proves to be too much temptation for Stew or Linda. But on Friday night, in what appeared to be a sweet gesture, Momma proposed that she bake some brownies for "one last weekend of sweets" because "...we deserve it!" Stew agreed with a reluctant cartwheel while shouting, "oh, heck yes!" So, Linda baked some fabulously delicious brownies... "the best brownies you've ever made" Stew was overheard telling Linda. So, after enjoying a couple brownies, the couple headed off to bed. And here's where the story turns ugly. The next morning, Stew awoke to find a brownie sliver missing from a row (see photo at right). Due to an obsessive compulsive condition, Stew is unable to walk past the brownies without first "cleaning up" the row by devouring the out of place brownies so that the row is perfectly straight again (see photo at left). Almost every time Stew was in the kitchen, he found an uneven brownie row requiring his attention, and this little dance went on all weekend... until a fateful moment on Sunday afternoon when he walked into the kitchen to find Linda cutting out a tiny sliver of brownie from a recently cleaned up row. The gig was up, and a bloated Stew was not happy. Linda's devilishly clever ruse was finally exposed. Incidentally, Stew gained two pounds this past week, and it's likely the extra pounds were all added this weekend. Stew has vowed that this little set back will not deter him from his new found mission of crushing Linda in The Chubby Challenge (no pun intended). Stay tuned...

Birthday wishes...

It's a tradition at our house to intentionally refrain from sending birthday well-wishes to family and friends until at least seven days after the actual date of the occasion. Stew's theory is that all the glitz and glamour of the event will have subsided, and our loved-one won't be expecting any more surprises. Well, Uncle StewCat... SURPRISE and Happy 45th Birthday! The photo to the left is the most recent picture I have of StewCat (Stew's brother, who is called "Doug" by other family members). He's the one in the driver's seat. Some might also be wondering why I refer to him as "StewCat", so here's the link to a past posting that includes an explanation (http://stay-at-home-dog.blogspot.com/2006/11/these-paws-are-made-for-walkin.html). I also realize you can't see him in this photo, so let me paint you a picture. He looks a lot like a bearded George Clooney without Clooney's perfectly straight teeth, piercing eyes, excellent physique, or ruggedly good looks. StewCat's also not as well-groomed as Clooney. Other than that, the two studs could be mistaken for identical twins!

Uncle StewCat is also often times mistaken for Pipe Major Doug Stewart, a bagpiper from southeastern Wisconsin - available for weddings, funerals, Bat Mitzvahs and other events (http://www.bagpiperonline.com). However, to the best of my knowledge, StewCat does not own a kilt, tuxedo jacket, or a bagpipe... although Stew claims to have once seen StewCat dressed in high heels and a dress announcing, "Call me 'Loretta'." Fortunately, no pictures exist of Stew's claim, so I'm going to assume he's making it up.

Speaking of Stew, following is a link to "Brett Stewart" on wikipedia.org (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brett_Stewart). It's funny and scary at the same time. Check it out because there's a semi-nude photo of Brett Stewart on the site that's a spitting image of Stew from 2-3 years ago. It's eery...

Finally, in honor of her Uncle Doug's birthday - as well as her own 4-month birthday today - Claire decided to take some shots this morning. She did four shots in all, and they were administered by Nurse Olga since Claire has yet to learn to dispense them herself. Stew warned Claire that shots "can really hit you later", but she insisted on doing all four in rapid succession. She took them like the little trooper she is, but she soon needed some Tylenol and a long nap (just like her daddy after a night out at a Timberwolves' basketball game). Just before passing out, I overheard Claire telling her papa "I won't do that again until I'm at least 6 months old..."

Happy Valentine's (yester)Day

Sorry for the tardiness of my Valentine's Day well wishes, folks. Yesterday was quite full of activities. While Stew spent half the day cleaning the house and the other half shopping with Claire, I stood guard looking out the windows waiting for somebody to show up to burn a cross in our yard (in response to my latest rant). Everyone has a right to believe whatever they want, but you need to have sense to know that not everyone believes the same as you... and, therefore, might be offended by your message. People can choose not to read my blog if they disagree... which means there's just three of us left now... but I don't force my views upon anyone via email or snail mail (frankly, postal carriers cannot be trusted). There appears to be a multitude of religions in the world, as well as many different interpretations of the Bible, so the notion that "my beliefs are right and yours are wrong" is simply counterproductive to me (along the lines of "my god can beat up your god"). But, I'm just a dog so what do I know? Just remember that "dog" is "god" spelled backwards... that's all I'm going to say on the matter... let's hope.

Otherwise, we had a good time yesterday. Claire and I made a Valentine's Day card for Momma with Stew's new Photoshop software (that he still has no clue how to use). Stew's supposed to be working on The Stewart Family Barker newsletter (Christmas 2006 edition) that he wanted to send out in February, but it's not going well. Meaning, he hasn't started it yet. He thought the Photoshop software would come in handy for publishing the newsletter, but he's quickly learning that if you don't use it, then it's not much use to you. I think this was the rationale for removing my man seeds, but I don't remember anyone even giving me a chance to use them before I heard snip! I truly appreciate the efforts of the dog rescue folks, but I would have liked to at least had a vote in the decision to remove my giblets. But, no use crying over spilled milk... or lost seeds.

Stew's quite pleased with his bounty after an afternoon of hunting for bargains. I think he went out for the following three items: 1) a floor cabinet for the basement bathroom, 2) bottled water for mixing with Claire's formula, and 3) storage boxes (for boxing up all Momma's junk in the basement... she's somewhat of a pack rat, but I strongly suggest you never call her this unless you actually want to find her foot shoved halfway up your rectum). What Stew actually came home with is a whole other story. At least he remembered the original three items. You see, Linda found out a while ago that Stew "performs" better with a shopping list. Otherwise, he gets going too fast and can "forget" certain items. So yesterday, Stew had a shopping list. His newest favorite store is Bed, Bath and Beyond. He was just supposed to pick up a floor cabinet but also left the store with a French press coffee maker (he doesn't know how to use), an egg poacher, an omelet maker, moisturizing socks (socks with aloe inside the fabric... don't ask me), and some sort of electrostatic hair brush that's suppose to be good for picking up my loose hairs. Then, he headed over to Cub Foods because they sell RC Cola, his favorite. As a little girl growing up in Herreid, SD, Linda would take a can of RC Cola to school with her sack lunch. Her friends would all tease her and say "Linda's drinking retarded cola," but she never let it affect her. She's very stable and loving to this day (and you can tell her I said so... please tell her I said so... please).

And since it's Thursday, Claire is all a buzz about watching The Office tonite. It's her favorite TV show, next to The View (it's a chick show, so I let her watch it). Claire's favorite character on The Office is Dwight Schrute. In fact, Claire likes Dwight so much that she won't let Linda take her (Linda's) Dwight bobblehead doll to work. Claire needs to have it here at home.

Here are some of Claire's favorite Dwight Schrute quotes:

Dwight Schrute: In the wild, there is no health care. In the wild, health care is, 'Ow, I hurt my leg. I can't run. A lion eats me. I'm dead.' Well, I'm not dead. I'm the lion. You're dead.

Dwight Schrute: Yes, I have acted before. I was in a production of "Oklahoma!" in the 7th grade. I played the part of Mutey the Mailman. They had too many kids so they made up roles like that. I was good.

Dwight Schrute: I think one of the greatest things about modern America is the computerization of medical records. As a volunteer sheriff I can look up anyone's psychiatric records or surgical histories. Yeast infections...there are a huge number of yeast infections in this county. Probably because we're downriver from that old bread factory...

Dwight Schrute: I was the youngest pilot in Pan Am history. When I was four, the pilot let me ride in the cockpit and fly the plane with him. And I was four, and I was great and I would have landed it, but my dad wanted us to go back to our seats.

Dwight Schrute: As a volunteer Sheriff's Deputy I've been doing surveillance for years. One time I suspected an ex-girlfriend of mine of cheating on me, so I tailed her for six nights straight. Turns out.. she was. With a couple of guys, actually... so. Mystery solved.

Dwight Schrute: (After he didn't tip the sub shop guy) Why tip someone for a job I'm capable of doing myself? I can deliver food. I can drive a taxi. I can, and do, cut my own hair. I did however, tip my urologist, because I am unable to pulverize my own kidney stones.

Dwight Schrute: Actually, I do own property. My grandfather left me a 60-acre working beet farm. I run it with my cousin, Mose. We sell beets to the local stores and restaurants. It’s a nice little farm...sometimes teenagers use it for sex.

For more of Dwight and the crew, check out http://www.quotesfromtheoffice.com/

Ignorance is bliss... but will destroy the world

This morning, Stew received a disturbing chain mail email. He's struggling between whether or not today's message is actually more ridiculous than the one received a while back. Last summer, Stew opened an email - also a forwarded chain letter - that contained the story of an American soldier trying to explain to his son why America is fighting in Iraq. Basically, the soldier-father provides his son with an analogy that Saddam Hussein is like a neighbor who lives across the street and who beats and tortures his own family. In the story, it's too late for the little boy to call the police to arrest his neighbor AND the other neighbors don't want to help, so the little boy needs to decide how to save his neighborhood from the evil daddy across the street. But if the boy delays, then it's likely he'll open his front door one day to find the evil neighbor standing their ready to kill the boy and his family. If only Bush had made his case for war as clear as this story, then maybe our household would've been more supportive at the time... but I doubt it.

Anyway, I'm including today's email below in italics, with my own responses shown within the text in bold type.

Have you ever thought -- Is Muslim-American really an oxymoron? Can a devout Muslim be an American patriot and a loyal citizen? I forwarded that question to a friend who worked in Saudi Arabia for 20 years. [Oh good... this guy is obviously going to be an expert on Islam having worked in Saudi Arabia for 20 years. Who needs an actual authority on Islam when you can get a guy who worked in a Muslim country? If you ever need an expert on redneck beliefs, I know a guy who worked in Alabama and drove a big pick-up truck.] The following is his forwarded reply:

"Theologically, no. Because his allegiance is to Allah, the moon god of Arabia. [And any great American patriot's allegiance is to Bush, the big-eared god of making stuff up. If you don't support the government, then you're obviously a left-wing, terrorist sympathizer who is emboldening the enemy.]

Religiously, no. Because no other religion is accepted by his Allah except Islam. Scriptually, no. Because his allegiance is to the five pillars of Islam and the Quran. [And, since America is obviously and soley a Christian nation, you must only worship the Bible in order to be a great American patriot. All the mosques, synagogues and temples you see throughout the U.S. are irrelevant because the people inside those buildings are godless, thus potential dangers to our way of life (and who cares about Freedom of Religion... we're at war people!). So, in addition to the Muslim-Americans, let's add Jews, Hindus and Buddhists to the list of people we need to watch. I say we round 'em all up and ship 'em back to where they came from. Atheists and Agnostics can stay because Christians still need someone to minister to once all the other evil-doers are sent back to their respective homelands.]

Geographically, no. Because his allegiance is to Mecca, to which he turns in prayer five times a day. [While, as Great American patriots, we are loyal only to Washington, D.C., where we send our hard-earned tax dollars once per year so that Congress can spend them on pet projects for special interest groups.]

Socially, no. Because his allegiance to Islam forbids him to make friends with Christians or Jews. [And what Muslim wouldn't want a Christian friend like the author of this email or the people who perpetuate hatred by forwarding it on?]

Politically, no. Because he must submit to the mullah (spiritual leaders), who teach annihilation of Israel and destruction of America, the great Satan. [Whereas in America, we have so many great spiritual leaders we can turn to for guidance. They teach us to look heavenward and pray - but only so our eyes can't see them committing adultery and/or snorting coke off a male prostitutes tight butt. To name just a few sanctimonious hypocrits: Ted Haggard, Jimmy Swaggart, Jim Bakker... and there are even those who look to hate-monger Fred Phelps for spiritual guidance. I submit that we have our own demons contributing to the destruction of America through teaching intolerance from the pulpit. And what's with Benny Hinn? He almost looks Muslim, so he must be evil. Here's a funny website... funny to me anyway: http://www.tedhaggard.com Hallelujah Ted's been cured of his gayness! Somebody tell Fred Phelps before Fred and his flock come to burn Ted at the stake.]

Domestically, no. Because he is instructed to marry four women and beat and scourge his wife when she disobeys him. [This is just plain ridiculous. Isn't this why we have Utah? Surely there's enough room for both Polygamists and Muslims in the Beehive State. Stew has been trying to get Linda to move to Utah for years, but he has some reservations because he's not sure he can find one more woman that finds him attractive enough to marry, let alone three or four more wives. Plus, Linda would kick the snot out of him if he even joked about beating her.]

Intellectually, no. Because he cannot accept the American Constitution since it is based on Biblical principles and he believes the Bible to be corrupt. [Um, if the Constitution is based on Biblical principles, then we should conclude the Constitution is a Christian document rather than a secular one. But there is no obvious and unequivocal statement in the Constitution which specifies the importance of Christian principles or morals. Plus, Article IV of the Constitution stipulates that "no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States," yet somebody (the religious right perhaps?) still makes a huge deal out of whether a candidate is Christian, Muslim or worships tree frogs. If the authors of the Constitution wanted to create a document designed to favor Christianity, why would religious tests be specifically forbidden in its text? Yes, I might have Googled for this one...]

Philosophically, no. Because Islam, Muhammad, and the Quran do not allow freedom of religion and expression. Democracy and Islam cannot co-exist. Every Muslim government is either dictatorial or autocratic. [So, I guess Muslim-Americans just won't fly an American flag on President's Day? And, if Democracy and Islam cannot co-exist, then why is Georgie Boy trying to spread Democracy throughout the Middle East? Somebody better tell Dubya before it's too late. Oops, that's right...]

Spiritually, no. Because when we declare "one nation under God," the Christian's God is loving and kind, while Allah is NEVER referred to as heavenly father, nor is he ever called love in the Quran's 99 excellent names." [Using this logic, we now have proof that Jennifer Love Hewitt is heavenly, as I've suspected all along. And there you go again implying "one nation under (the Christian's) God." The Constitution does not specify a particular religion's god.]

Therefore, after much study and deliberation, perhaps we should be very suspicious of ALL MUSLIMS in this country. [And after much study of this email, I've decided that I'm way more suspicious of the religious right and the power it wields in our government than I am of the Muslim dude who lives down the street.] They obviously cannot be both "good" Muslims and good Americans. Call it what you wish, it's still the truth. [Okay then, I wish to call it "ignorant", "scary" and "racist". And if I only get to use one word, then I'll go with "scary."] If you find yourself intellectually in agreement with the above statements, perhaps you will share this with your friends [...at your next Klan meeting.] The more who understand this, the better it will be for our country and our future. The religious war is bigger and more complex than most Americans currently know or understand. [A "religious war?" And all this time I thought the war was about stopping Saddam from nuking us back to the Stone Age with WMD's... or it was about linking Al-Qaeda to Iraq... or was it liberating the Iraqis from Saddam? Oh, I remember, it was about spreading Democracy to the region and making the world safer. But, that's right, Islam and Democracy cannot co-exist. Therefore, it must be a religious war. A holy war or jihad if you will. Somebody better tell George and Dick (and Karl Rove, the spin-meister) about this new revelation. But then again, I have a suspicion they've known it all along, and the author of this email - and those forwarding it - are reacting as anticipated. Well played, boys... your minions are doing your dirty work yet again by spreading your propaganda of fear to take the heat off you - the true creators of the unsafe world we find ourselves living in.]

I'm so glad Stew received this email today. It obviously does a lot to enrich our lives. And if any terrorists happen to be reading this blog, I don't like you. I don't want you to think I'm emboldening you or anything.

Hippity, Hoppity... Easter's on its way

... and Claire has a new hippity-hopping machine. She's joining the household in our "get fit" efforts. Speaking of which, this weekend Linda threw down the gauntlet and challenged Stew to a weightloss contest. The official contest weigh-in occurred on Sunday morning, and both participants are to lose a minimum of 10% of their body weight over a 16-week period. Stew's a little angered by the fact that this means he has to lose more than his original 20 lbs goal, plus his weightloss target under the new rules is much higher than Linda's. Irregardless (I love this non-word), Stew is up to the challenge and has already started talking smack... which means he has no chance whatsoever of prevailing. He might have had half a chance if he'd just kept his trap shut, but no such luck...

Well, Claire's yelling "feed me you silly mutt," so I'll close for now.

Through Daddy's eyes

Claire reminds me more of Stew each day. Not only does she have his big, blackish-blue eyes, but she's also fond of the bottle. I just hope she outgrows the bottle phase and doesn't morph into a nearly 40 year old "adult" with no job who sits at a computer all day wearing nothing but his... er, I mean HER underwear pretending to be a dog. But, we all think there's still hope for Claire. Momma and Stew have plans to teach Claire that she can be anything she wants to be when she grows up. They'll teach her about setting goals, working hard, being kind and fair to others (like that will help her in the real world), and staying focused to be the best she can be. She won't be limited to stereotypical female roles (i.e., meter maid), and she'll be taught that she can grow up to be a doctor, lawyer or -- god forbid -- a female astronaut. Claire already has the wearing diapers thing down. Plus, Stew has a ton of experience he can pass along to Claire about psychotic relationships (experience Stew obtained prior to his meeting Linda, of course). Many a night Stew spent throwing on a wig and trenchcoat before jumping in his car to go stalk a former girlfriend he suspected of cheating on him. Oh, to be young and in love with trashy girlfriends. Luckily for Stew, Linda took great pity on him and taught him about trust, friendship and how stalking is a bad thing... especially when you're carrying a steel mallet.

Anyway, Momma comes home from Tucson today, so Stew has us all doing chores. So, I gotta go scrub the toilet. In the meantime, it's been a while since I've posted the results of Stew's weight-loss program. Here's the latest, complete with a breakdown of what he actually plans to accomplish:

Day #10: net loss of 4.5 lbs
Starting weight: 215 lbs
Current weight: 210.5 lbs
Goal weight: 195 lbs
Timeframe to accomplish: Stew will set no such timetable...

Excuse me, but do you have the time?

Well, today started out splendidly for my folks. Momma has a leadership conference in Tucson, so she set the alarm clock for five o'clock in order to make it to the airport on time. At 6:30am, she shot out of bed while uttering some sort of profanity (she didn't really curse, but it adds flavor to the story). It turns out the alarm WAS set for 5:00...PM. A "new alarm clock" is on momma and Stew's list of stuff to buy, but they've just not gotten around to it. Perhaps this will spur them on to get movin' on a new clock. The good part is that Stew & Claire got momma to the airport in time for her flight. I was not allowed to go along because I apparently shed too much, and Stew didn't want to get the car messy. Following this logic, Stew shouldn't be allowed to sit on any of our furniture because of his disgusting eczema problem. The guy's a leper, and he has some nerve discriminating against me because I happen to lose my hair from time to time.

In other news, more photos were uploaded to both Claire's and my photo albums (click the My Pictures link to the right to view 'em). Plus, I added a short video of Claire drinking prune juice. And by drinking, I mean juice spills out of her mouth as she looks like she's about to vomit. Jimmy Buffett music can be heard playing in the background, but Stew is not an official Parrothead (one who follows the musings of Jimmy Buffett). Nonetheless, he still walks around the house all day wearing flip-flops and cut-off shorts.

As stated in previous posts, we had visitors this past weekend. Not only did Veronica, Matt, Theo and Tucker come to visit, but Michelle, Pete and Naiya stopped by on Sunday. Here's a picture of Peter Karl (the man with two first names) holding Claire. Plus, we had a birthday brunch for Aunt Karen on Sunday. The humans dined on huevos rancheros and other Mexican cuisine, while us canines were stuck scavenging for scraps that fell from the counter during food prep. Note to self: Do not eat any green items being chopped by Stew that fall to the kitchen floor -- those jalapeno peppers were hot! On Saturday night, the humans headed over to Susan & Kermit's place for homemade soup prepared by Matt. Susan was released from the medical center on Friday, plus it was her birthday weekend, so everyone went over to her house to welcome her home and wish her a happy birthday. Speaking of happy, here's a picture of Matt fondling Linda. She has a pinched nerve or something in her neck (or so she claims), and she doesn't especially like how Stew whines while he massages her. So, in her own hurtful way, she deliberately asked Uncle Matt for a neck rub right in front of Stew... adding insult to injury by telling Stew (and the entire room) "...I don't like how you do it." We all assumed she meant his neck-rubbing technique, and we'll just leave it at that. The photo was purposely distorted with a reddish hue to signify Stew's rage as he looked through the camera lense. He's always calling Uncle Matt a "Nancy Boy" or just plain "Nancy", while Matt refers to Stew as "Alice." In my estimation, Nancy kicked Alice's ass on this day. Personally, I'm quite fond of Uncle Matt (or Aunt Nancy), so I'm posting a photo of him and Claire relaxing on the sofa. I was feeling a bit neglected, so I decided to jump into the shot. I hope you don't mind. Anyway, I'm missing Oprah, so I'll bark at you later.

Super Bored Sunday

It was a crazy weekend, but I was finally able to get some peace and quiet Sunday afternoon. We had lots of good friends visit, so I'm a bit tuckered out so to speak... but more on that later. In the meantime, did you catch Puppy Bowl III on the Animal Channel Sunday afternoon (http://animal.discovery.com/convergence/puppybowl/puppybowl.html)? It aired during the not-so-exciting Super Bowl. My favorite player was Jackson, a bad-ass 10-week old Golden Retriever. He reminded me of myself when I was that age as he put some serious hurt on Jacky, the Pomeranian. I loved it... mainly because I have a hard time liking a dog (Jacky) that looks more like a fur-ball than an actual dog. Plus, those little showdogs tend to yip! yip! yip! all the time, which I can do without. In my humble opinion, these types of dogs are just a couple steps above cats on the evolution ladder (and below cats if the little dogs actually travel inside a Louis Vuitton handbag). Unfortunately, I didn't get to watch too much of Puppy Bowl III because Stew was more interested in the Ghost Hunters marathon on the SciFi Channel (http://www.scifi.com/ghosthunters/). Stew's been obsessed with ghosts ever since - when he was in the 7th grade - he saw a ghost on Halloween night. He was walking home from a friend's house after a night of trick-or-treating (and throwing tomatoes at cars). When he was about a 1/2 block from his house, Stew saw a figure walking toward him on the sidewalk. The figure appeared to be dressed as a shepherd, which struck Stew as an odd choice for a Halloween costume. Anyway, based on Stew's walking speed, he expected to meet the figure as they passed under the lone street light just south of Stew's house. As he does to this day, Stew looked downward for just a few seconds while he walked, looking up when he got to the street light so he could say "nice shaft" to the shepherd as they passed each other. But, the shepherd was nowhere in sight, and there was no place he could have gone without Stew seeing him. So, after peeing in his pants a little, Stew ran home like a little girl. And if running like a little girl means that Stew ran like Linda, then I can only assume Stew was running with his arms flailing from side-to-side and that he fell down while running up the steps to the door (you see, Linda's somewhat clumsy and is the only person we know who can break an ankle walking into a movie theatre). Actually, to be honest, Linda's running form is normal... this was just something we in the bloggesphere industry call "fill" when you don't really have a good ending to a story. You just fill in with nonsense and move on to the next topic...

Anyway, other than Sunday afternoon and evening, we had an action-packed weekend. It was a party train of sorts... and everybody climbed aboard! First off, I got to meet my new cousin from Fargo, Tucker, a little Dachshund. All my life I assumed wiener dogs are called "wiener dogs" because they look a lot like furry wieners. But, after this weekend, I know the true meaning. I've seen enough of Tucker's little red rocket to last me a lifetime. And the picture to the right gives a new (disturbing) meaning to the phrase "biting the pillow." The image, which is seared into my memory, shows Tucker expressing his brotherly love upon Theo (thankfully, they are not biological brothers). If you choose to look closely, you can see that there's no hiding Tucker's aforementioned rocket. And, the picture to the left shows how I spent 99% of my weekend. Apparently, I'm irresistable to the wiener dog. The other 1% of my weekend was spent batting Tucker around the house with my paw while Theo barked at me, threatening to bite off my nose if I harmed his little brother. Regardless of how it sounds, I rather enjoyed my time with my little Fargo cousins. A lot more happened than I can write about now. It's time to feed Claire, so I'll close for now. But, stay tuned for more photos of Claire tomorrow...