The Snarling Dog

the Snarling Dog. I have broken into his computer and am now blogging on his site because, DAMMIT, I want a new post!!!

So, what shall I blog about? Tormenting children? Idiot people who should never fuck, let alone breed? The horrors of wars and the tom foolery of the politicians who run them? The sound that a butterfly makes when it is being devoured by a spider? The utter bitchery of certain people when dealing with others? Or, I know. Grocery shopping at Thanksgiving.

First. If the sign says 15 items or less, they MEAN 15 ITEMS OF LESS. If you have more than 15 items get your ass out of the fast lane and go to the slow lane. And we don’t want to hear some bullshit sob story about how you have a pie in the oven and 15 in laws who are not house broken locked inside with no way to get out and you are in a hurry. If you were in that big of a hurry you should not have THREE CARTS OF GROCERIES.

Second. You might be the Lord or Lady of your Household when you are AT your house, but in public you are just another stranger to be considered either a threat, an idiot, or not worth noticing, so shut the fuck up, hang up the cell phone, and stop blocking the entire fucking aisle with your wide girth and/or your shopping cart.

Third. If you are one of these people who like to compare prices on EVERY item, or who likes to look for the items you have coupons on, or who likes to read EVERY. SINGLE. INGREDIENT. or who likes to look for the dented can for to have the dented can discount, then do NOT stand in the middle of the aisle. Stand closer in and to one side so the rest of us who do not care about saving money, or discounts, or the amount of calcium stearoyl lactylate in our whipped topping, or about the dented can discount can get out stuff and get the hell home.

Bottom line, NO ONE wants to be at the grocery store the day of a holiday. Hell, no one wants to be at the grocery store in general, but we are all there because we forgot something, or because we burned something, or because we didn’t think to go shopping sooner, or because or mothers/spouses/aunts/grandmothers sent us out to get “one more can” of something vital to their recipe. Knowing that NO ONE wants to be there, lets all be fucking polite, deal with each other, and get done so we can go the fuck home where it is warm and the smell of goods things is wafting out of the kitchen.

That is all-

mexalapotis

…I’m the Snarling Dog and I approve this message.

That is a question.  Whether I should simply leave this weblog in a dark unkempt corner of the blgosphere, or try to establish and maintain a list of links to other pages?

In other words, should this page be Caecum or Cloaca?

That obviously resents doing any actual work.  The organization for which I work has seven major locations (each location is fifteen minutes from another), and coordinating a meeting among representatives from those seven locations, especially when such meeting is mandatory, should not be exceedingly difficult, right?

Wrong.

Even after picking a central location, only three out of seven showed.  Not even enough to constitute a quorum.  And people wonder why so little in our department has changed in 30 years.   And I know that if we actually report any of the change proposals to our program, I shall hear multiple complaints from the bastards who didn’t even bother to show up.
“One can say this generally of men: that they are fickle, ungrateful  hypocrites and dissemblers–and while you do them good they are wholly yours, offering you blood, and goods, and sons, when need is far off.  But when it approaches you, then they revolt.”  –Old Nick.

After much persuasion, the cave of the snarling dog is now visible.

My hope:  not a diary, and not more bandwidth wasted on inane amateur political punditry.  I have another weblog around here somewhere, but as it is far too formal, academic, and so does not serve the same purpose as this one.

Cave Canem.