A Dose of Ridiculous

Don't get your hopes up, I can't bring this back on a weekly basis. But every once in awhile I hear of something that just BEGS for me to write about.

Today: made-up dog breeds.

When I got home from work tonight, B asked me if I'd ever heard of a "puggle" (a word with which I just had to fight with my spellcheck to even allow in this post). I immediately started thinking about children's toys from the 1980s. But alas, I was way off base.

A puggle, apparently, is a dog that is part beagle and part pug. While I do admit that this sounds like a pretty cute dog (I've always thought beagles were cute), the "puggle" (c'mon spellcheck, work with me here) label just sounds...dumb.

What happened to the term "mutt"? That's what people used to call dogs like "puggles" or "labradoodles" (another word my spellcheck doesn't like). According to Dictionary.com, the term "mutt" is another word for "mongrel", which is "a dog of mixed or indeterminate breed". We had a dog when I was a kid who was part beagle and part German shepherd. We didn't call him a "beapherd" or a "sheple"---we called him a mutt. That's what he was.

We had another dog who was part chau and part German shepherd. We also called her a mutt, or a chau-shepherd mix. There was no inventing of dog breeds in our house.

I get the impression that people today are breeding dogs simply to come up with fancy-sounding (and to my ear, ridiculous-sounding) names for them. As in, "Oh that's Mitzy, isn't she like the cutest little labradoodle you've ever seen?"

When will it stop? What is acceptable and what isn't? Can we cross a St. Bernard and a husky and call it a brusky? Can we have a chihcsund? Or a dachseranian? 

Or how about a shitshepherd?

Seriously, people. Stop the insanity. Call them what they are--mutts.

Guest Post! Weekly Dose of Ridiculous

If I have a guest post, does that make me an official blogger?

I'm just glad to actually have a dose of ridiculous since G fell off the wagon long ago.

Also?  My summer class started today and it's gonna be a killer.  I don't even want to face it right now.

So here we go!

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Guest Post by A-Peep

Needed to mail a package from the USPS. Wait in line...with my 2 year old. Fun times. Once I finally get to the attendant she places the correct postage and tracking stickers on my box. Hand stamps it all over - the usual drill.

I would also like a book of stamps, please.Sorry we are out of all of the ones pictured in front of you. Here are some leftovers.

I let the 2 year old choose. They're for bills mainly anyway.

I get ready to swipe my card.

Is that a debit or credit card?

{Shouldn't your machine know that?}

Credit.

I'm sorry. We cannot accept credit cards that are not signed on the back or that say "See ID".
Even with a driver's license? Or another important ID? I have two valid ID's with my signature on them.

No. Sorry.

I then told her I realize it's not her policy (don't get mad at the messenger), but that is ridiculous. She absolutely would not take my payment. Who carries cash in 2014?! So she had to take the postage off the box and void the transaction.

Are you kidding me?! Does she know the effort it takes to travel anywhere with a toddler and a large box? Now what?

I was floored. I then spoke to the employee in the lobby and asked the most direct way to issue a complaint - not that USPS cares what A-peep thinks. He was super nice. We talked for a few minutes and I told him UPS would get my business. He subtly pointed to the automatic self-serve machine behind him ----that takes CREDIT CARDS!

Booya.

The Weekly Dose of Ridiculous

This week's Dose takes a look at prescription medications.  Not the normal stuff your doctor might prescribe--I'm talking about the meds that you see commercials for on television.

Now I'm not making fun of the people who need these medications.  Some people do have serious problems (although it's REALLY hard not to laugh at the people in the twin bathtubs at the end of the Cialis commercials--have you ever laid in one of those??  They aren't that comfortable!) that require strong forms of medicine.  What I AM going to make fun of, though, are the narrations.

It's really hard not to, if you think about it.  Here's a man and his wife--we'll call them Bob and Ethel-- walking hand-in-hand down the beach while their dog runs to grab a tennis ball, while the narrator, in a very serious tone, reads off the list of possible side effects of whatever drug Bob has been taking.  While Bob smiles and throws the ball again (in slow motion, of course), the narrator talks about how Bob's spleen might explode out of his ears, or he might start growing toenails on his eyelids.  As Chester (the dog) fetches the ball and runs back towards Bob and Ethel, we learn that Bob has a chance of growing a third eyeball in the middle of his forehead, or his nose might rot off in the middle of the night.  Ethel, meanwhile, is happy as she can be because she has her ol' Bob back from whatever disease was ailing him, none the wiser that he might spontaneously combust in the middle of the night or wake up as a woman.  I always wonder, does the other person in the commercial know about the drugs side effects?

It is necessary to understand what prescription drugs can do beyond their intended usage, and kudos to the people who make these commercials that they make the narrator read off the side effects in an intelligible manner (probably because they've had the pants sued off them by someone who developed glow-in-the-dark kidney stones and wasn't warned this was a possible side effect).  But watching Bob and Chester play fetch on the beach, while hearing that Bob is at risk of ebola, is just…well…ridiculous.

Until next time, dear readers…read the fine print!

The Weekly Dose of Ridiculous

We are very fortunate to live in a country where, every few years, we can choose from a pool (albeit usually not very big) of people who we think will do the least bad job of running our county/state/country/school district/whatever.  Some people really get into this process, beyond simply showing up at the local elementary school to push a few buttons.  These people put signs up in their windows or their yards endorsing their candidate, the one whom, they believe, truly will bring balance to the Force.

They also put bumper stickers on their cars.

I'm all about the First Amendment.  We all have freedom of speech, and we are all free to choose for whom to vote, and we're all free to display our choice of political candidate on whatever we choose.  I have no problem with this.

What I DO have a problem with, though, are those people who choose to continue to broadcast their election choice well after the election in question.

Voted the Gore/Liebermann ticket?  Good for you.  Now take the sticker off your car, that election was 14 years ago.  Really wanted Kerry/Edwards to beat Bush/Cheney in 2004?  That's all well and good, but the world has moved on, my friend.

There's nothing wrong with supporting your chosen candidate, but it's pretty ridiculous to leave the stickers on after the election--and only gets more ridiculous with time.  At best, if your candidate won, you look like you're rubbing it in the face of everyone who voted for the guy (or gal) who didn't win.  At worst, if your candidate lost, you come off looking like a sore loser.

Until next week, dear readers…vote Carter/Mondale in '76!

The Weekly Dose of Ridiculous

After a brief Christmas break, the Weekly Dose is back in business.  Today, let's discuss video game movies.

As you all know, I'm a pretty avid gamer.  Most people who don't play video games don't realize that some of them--many of them, actually--have a pretty deep plot and backstory.  For me, playing some games is akin to reading a good book, except that I get to participate in the story.  In the Halo franchise, you play a super-soldier fighting an alien species bent on erasing humanity from the universe.  In Crackdown, you play a cop in a futuristic city that is overrun by multiple criminal organizations, and you have to fight to take the city back.  In The Need for Speed franchise, you race cars.

Guess which one Hollywood opted to make into a movie?

Yep.  The Need for Speed.

*sigh*

In which a protagonist has to clear his name from a death incurred during a road race.  And the only way he can do it involves racing (and destroying) lots of very expensive cars.

Hasn't this been done before?  Haven't there been SIX OTHER MOVIES recently that deal with racing fast cars for some reason or another?  Did the people behind this movie never hear of the Fast and the Furious franchise???

Way to go, Hollywood.  Because, ya know, no one would want to see a movie based on a game where you fight the influence of the Templar Knights on the course of Western civilization (the Assassin's Creed franchise), battle a subterranean menace that is trying to wipe out your species (Gears of War), or  lead an uprising of miners against an oppressive mining conglomeration on Mars (Red Faction).

Until next time, dear readers, here's hoping you don't feel the need…the need for speed.

The Weekly Dose of Ridiculous

This week's Dose:  Celebrities Who Seem to Find Religion Around the Holidays.

First, a few disclaimers:  I very much like this time of year; in fact, it's my favorite.  And I love Christmas music.  And no, I'm not perfect.

Now that we have that out of the way…

I've always been perplexed, amused, and a little horrified at some of the Christmas albums that start popping up in stores around Halloween.  Bing Crosby?  Check.  Amy Grant?  Check.  Mary J. Blige…..what??

Yep.  MJB, Christina Aguilera…and lots of others.  So I guess it's OK for the rest of the year to sing about all sorts of stuff that your grandmother wouldn't want you to hear, but at Christmas suddenly you can genuinely sing about peace on earth and goodwill to men?

I just have a bit of hard time listening to Little Drummer Boy being sung by artists who, on some of their other albums, croon about one-night stands, substance abuse, and drop the occasional f-bomb.

Sorry, folks, I ain't buyin' it.

And don't even get me started on the Justin Bieber Christmas album…

Makes me want to burn the tree down.



The Weekly Dose will be taking a break next week, but rest assured will be back the following week with more observations of our dumb world.  Until next time, deck the f'in halls, and all that.