Still smarting from my defeat of last year, I challenge you, Kevin, to another go at the Oscar selection derby.  Loser will read a book selected by the winner.  Last year I read Junior Feinstein writing about Bobby Knight.

If you want to open it up to your readers, I’ll still whip their butts.  I’ll send you my post in a few days.

/nips out to watch Space Chimps

Isn’t that just like you boiz, glorying in the destruction of beauty, urging innocent animals to wreak havoc upon you know not what wonderful worlds, separate, contained, peaceful, asking nothing but a little space and maybe a yard or two of ribbon. And to see a DOG urged into a frenzy of destruction—on balloons—was that some sort of reference?

Balloonicidal violence is NOT funny!!!!!Wait till we photoshop your Precious onto all those balloons and see if you’re laughing then!!!!!

Adorable.  Looks just like my late beloved Sparky.  Rat terriers are so delightfully OCD.

No matter how big the piece of rawhide I gave him, he would obsessively chew it until it was finished.  Once someone gave him an oversized rawhide treat and hours later, he was chewing away and literally whimpering with pain and exhaustion from all the chewing but powerless to stop.

In retrospect, he reminds me of some nameless group of people I know…

Polly and Allan, I wish my arms were long enough to hug both of you.

Dave, you know I want to hug you, but because of the awards, I can’t.  You’re on.

That looked like so much fun I’m thinking of taking it up as a hobby.

I’m pretty sure our defective Sheltie would excel at this - she goes bonkers with bubble wrap.  Remind me not to bring home a whole bunch of balloons.  She could be guilty of balloonicide.  Or latexlynching, not sure which is worse.

I’m feeling the love all the way out here in CA, Kevin.  And not in a gay way or anything like that.  OK, well maybe a little.

Allan, I’m just slopping over with warm fuzzies. My wonderful old dog, Mr. Dog, was not a balloonicidal maniac. Mr. Dog believed in energy conservation—his own. He did eat a bag of birdseed once. And a pianist friend’s lucky silk performance socks. Well, they had been lucky.

Hey Kevin, egualmente.