A Real Dog

Tiger's new home and a possible solution.

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How do you solve a problem like Maria?

How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? How do you find a word that means Maria? A flibbertijibbet! A will-o'-the wisp! A clown!

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As obvious as it may be, here is a possible solution to the troublesome, confusing new Jupiter Island, Florida home of Tiger Woods: transform it into the shape of a dog! At the Dog Bark Park Inn in Cottonwood, Idaho, the proprietors, Dennis and Frances are both chainsaw artists. Since the Woods clan has oodles of resources a healthy hobby like carving themselves a new façade might just do the trick in assuaging their neighbor's bad vibes.

Say Five Times Fast.

The Quite Bearable Lightness of Being a Jackass

His name is Victor which is kind of a sad name for a jackass. He moved to New York to attend college and never went home again. He wanted to be like all the chic people he saw. He wanted their clothes, their apartments, their lives. He cut his hair, colored it, too. Got a mid level job at a big company which he told everybody was much more important than it really was. "I'm the head of my division," he brayed to anyone who would listen, "My boss is a moron. She doesn't know half of what I do." Years went by and Victor got older. Still for all his striving, he felt had nothing and city life was getting him down. He decided to make some changes. He got some nice pills from his doctor which made him feel better about himself and he opined constantly as an expert on many subjects. Soon friends tired of him. "Look what I can do for you!" he said to empty rooms, "I'm really very important." Alas, Victor never noticed his own buffoonery and was doomed to spend the rest of his days nuzzling against the split rail fences of his own mind.

Fall Fashion: Don't.

I'm not sure which is worse; the woman clinging to the hope of eternal pregnancy or the one who wishes she had hooves.

The Baby Snuggie is tailored-made for the woman who refuses to give up the feeling that comes from being physically attached to another living being. Clearly a wish to forever remain in a self-imposed state of vulnerability and helplessness is behind this sartorial dementia.

The shoes below are from a Japanese website and only a Japanese man can explain the joys of seeing a tiny Japanese woman prance around the house in these little hoof-booties. The rest of us will have to remain blissfully in the dark until then.

Absurd despot.

Some Gamut stories write themselves.

From today's New York Times:

"CONAKRY, Guinea — At the military camp where he makes decisions — he does not care for government buildings — the captain who is president explained why he did not get to the political rally earlier this week that his soldiers turned into a bloodbath. Moussa Dadis Camara, 45, this nation’s erratic new leader, said he could not find the keys to his pickup."

The Times' story clearly showed a military leader who is too inept to attend the slaughter of innocent people that he had ordered and thereby ensured the smug superiority of their readers.

"If I had ordered the killing of dozens or perhaps hundreds of people you can be darn sure that I would have found my car keys and been there!" said Margie Hastings of Medford, NJ.

What the Times failed to explain is why so many African despots have such fantastic sun glasses. Do they take time off from their busy schedules of raping and murdering their own people to go shopping in Paris? The Gamut hereby defies anyone to find a single African junta leader who doesn't own a cool pair of frames.

Photo©AFP

Absurd Hamburg, Absurd Denmark 2009

Only in Germany (ok, maybe in Austria, too) could they nearly sell out of a breakfast pastry called Napoleonshat.

Is a translation really necessary? A spurt of sluttiness and on sale, too!

Lippy updates in the Copenhagen train station: about $1.

Seriously folks, if you don't want your children to grow up into depressed alcoholic adults get them some happy toys!

A statue of a sad giant staring out a window = Danish art.

Kinky Coral. Those Danes really know how to express their sexual passions using natural materials.

Viking children in Christiania with home made wooden implements of harm. Yes, they will use them against you and then run away giggling. I was personally attacked by an arrow from a bow, an arrow from a crossbow, a mace and a sword. The fact that I lived to tell about it kind of lets you know where the vikings are at in terms modern warfare and world domination.

It's Friday

It's Friday, it's summertime, and life is good.

Peace Through Brew

Apparently President Obama does not care for the term, "Beer Summit."

“It is not a summit. It’s an attempt to have some personal interaction when an issue has become so hyped and so symbolic that you lose sight of just the fact that these are people involved, including myself, all of whom are imperfect, and will hopefully instead of ginning up anger and hyperbole, everybody can just spend a little bit of time with some self reflection and recognizing that other people have different points of view.” 

 Nor, apparently did Obama care for the idea put forth rather hopefully by Vice President Joe Biden that they all wear Snuggies  during tonight's meeting with Professor Henry Louis Gates, and Sgt. James Crowley.

To this the President very calmly replied, "I don't think so."

Dog Hero of 1903

Though cars and dogs don't usually go together too well here's an exception: this is Bud. 106 years ago yesterday, he went along for the ride when Dr. Horatio Nelson Jackson and brilliant mechanic, Sewall K. Crocker made the first road trip across the USA from San Francisco to New York in a Winton.  It took them 63 days and they finished their journey on July 26, 1903.

Due to frequent breakdowns during the arduous trek Bud faced the distinct prospect of being eaten by his hungry cohorts. Nevertheless, the crafty Crocker somehow always managed to fix the car ensuring that he and Dr. Jackson would make it to the next town in time to stock up on food and Bud would get to live out the rest of his long life as the Jackson family dog.

Dog Days

The Dog Days are quickly approaching. But if they are anything like the first part of summer I think we can expect something rather like this adorable serious-faced puppy named Mannito now available for adoption at The North Shore Animal League. Coincidentally, he bares more than a passing resemblance to the young future Judge Sonia Sotomayor. He may just be destined for greatness.

PS: Lest you believe I am foolishly insulting a very powerful person, I am referring here to his eyes and not his soft furriness, floppy ears or waggy tail.

Waaa!!

Like the corners of his mind, Anderson Theodopolis knows far too well the tedium of helping out around the house, "I have awful memories of how my father used to make me do boring stuff on weekends all the time. He polluted my time with unfun tasks." Recounting the numerous days he was made to sweep leaves, clean out gutters and do other tasks too onerous to mention Theodopolis says, "You don't understand. Manual labor is horrifying to me." Holding up both lily-white, baby-smooth hands he continues, "These are the uncalloused hands of a man who uses his mind. They weren't meant for difficult labor." Indeed, upon closer inspection his hands do have a rather delicate quality Theodopolis says he sometimes struggles to maintain. "My wife doesn't get it. She's like my dad. She thinks I should help out around the house. I say, I can always hire someone to do all that stuff." But does he? "Oh, no. I'm too busy but I could if I wanted."

Oh, Holy Night

A strange and perhaps even miraculous phenomenon occurred last night when visions of the President's face appeared in dinners across the country. At press time, unsubstantiated stories of the same were also reported in places as far away as England, France, Germany and Tokyo. Peter Mongo of Half-Moon Bay, California discovered the President's face at around seven o'clock at night in his 3-bean burrito. Says Mongo, "I was just about to dig in when I saw it. I shouted, 'That's Obama!' and all these people gathered around me. I was, like, totally mobbed." In Texas Janet and Robert Wilkenson were at their favorite steak house in Houston when they noticed the grinning face of the President staring up from Mr. Wilkenson's porterhouse. "I told him not to eat it. We voted for McCain." "I don't know what to think" says her husband. "But there's no denying it was his face. My whole world has been turned upside down." Peter Walinsky of Bangor, Maine was cooking up some chicken and rice for himself and his two cats, Earl and Scruggs when he saw the image of the President's face in his saucepan. "I took a photo of the stew to document the event but unlike everyone else who saw the President's face in their food last night, I ate mine. Maybe I should have had it preserved in Lucite and offered it to the Smithsonian but me and the boys were hungry and there was nothing else in the house to eat." Authorities are not sure what if anything this all means and the Vatican would not publicly comment on whether or not the sightings constituted an actual miracle. Though one person who works there and who spoke on the condition of anonymity said, "Well, it sure looks like what we've seen before with the image of Jesus turning up in all sorts of items of food. But, no, I don't actually believe this signals that Mr. Obama is the Second Coming." The President's face also made appearances in a spicy toro roll, a Shepherd's pie, and fish soup amongst other delicious dishes.

Oh, Happy Day

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In a happy twist of fate, Jennifer Ladybug, nee Coccinella septempunctata, discovered late yesterday afternoon that despite stories to the contrary, her house was not on fire and her children were just fine.

"I was cheerily going about my business eating some aphids in the garden when two small human females stood over me and began reciting the most dreadful words I have ever heard. It seemed they had practiced it before because they said it in unison:

Ladybug, ladybug fly away home

your house is on fire and your children are alone.

Well, I flew home straight away and found that everyone was fine the house was not on fire and my children were still very much under the watchful eye of their auntie."

Pausing only to take a deep breath she then continued, "Can you imagine saying such things if they weren't true? Clearly these girls could do with some therapy."

Nearby, Pamela Spider had this to say,

"If you think that's bad you ought to hear their creepy song about itsy bitsy spiders."

Rage, Rage.

Dick Cheney will not go gentle into that good night.

After eight years in office and despite the fact that many Americans have long held out the hope that he would soon die, Cheney seems unwilling to leave the national stage.

"Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light." Or so goes the famous poem by Dylan Thomas. And for his part, Cheney appears to enjoy raging against the new President at every turn. Cheney's handlers have apparently warned the former VP that his words could in fact lead to nasty repercussions from the left. One of his Secret Service detail on hand for the interview was heard mumbling something under his breath: "....angry mobs...guillotines...heads on pikes."

When asked if he was at all concerned for his own safety or that of his family Cheney replied, "I'm not a bad guy. These people just need to wake up and see who the real threat is to our incredibly lucrative American way of life. Or at least to my incredibly lucrative way of life."

What about all the pundits who are claiming that Cheney's desire to express himself on issues of national importance has more to do with a desire to preserve his own legacy?

"Oh, sure," Cheney admits in a surprisingly candid fashion for one who was famous for being reclusive and rather furtive during his terms as Vice President. "Why would I lie to you? Sure, I want to be remembered for the things I did and this new president is trying to mess it all up. I mean, it's just not fair. Why should Obama be able to just come in and undo all the cool stuff we did?"

Maybe because he's the President?

"That never stopped me before." Cheney replied with a grin.

A Laugh Riot

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Eager to show the government's more madcap side and proving that Washingtonians do indeed have very short memories, Louis Caldera, director of the White House military office signed off on a photo session which took place yesterday over downtown Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty. What made it such a special event is that they used a low-flying 747 closely followed by a F-16 fighter jet, closely mimicking conditions during the attacks of 9-11. Unfortunately, someone forgot to tell Mayor Blumberg and the many people who fled their downtown offices in terror. The 747 was reportedly Air Force One, the same plane used by the President. While the comic stylings of Mr. Caldera and the rest of his crew may have been lost on many New Yorkers, he'll have another chance to work his charm on us in the coming Fall television lineup. TV executives were apparently so impressed by his ability to stir up mayhem and even cause people to break down crying on sidewalks in broad daylight, that Caldera is currently being considered for a new reality television show: The Real Politicos of Washington. The premise is very similar to the Real Housewives series and will follow Caldera and other similarly high-appointed government personnel around and document their daily hijinks for posterity.

Frankinpuppy Lives

Take 3 parts beagle mix with 1 part sea anemone and what do you get? Well, if you happen to be South Korean scientist Byeong-Chung Lee, the answer is the world's first transgenic, glow-in-the-dark puppy. The pup is named Ruppy, which is short for "ruby puppy" because he gives off a reddish hue under ultraviolet light.

Scientists say that the reason they make such creatures is because it could one day help them cure diseases in human beings. There may be some faulty reasoning here as not too many humans consider their lack of ability to glow-in-the-dark to be an actual disease.

The Mogul Pate

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The mogul pate so finey

Rich and super-shiny

If you dare rub it for good luck

You may hear, "Oh, what the fuck?"

You can say you wanted to see

If a brilliant genie would appear

As a wisp of smoke

out one o' the ears.

And if this does not appease

The irate mogul's pride

It will behoove you to appear

Believably sincere

If you promise to never

Ever

Do it again - for five or six new benjamins.

You may be arrested

And in handcuffs led away

But you will surely live to rub

The mogul pate again one day.

Go Figure

There are many mysteries in life and no one knows what becomes of socks. Not really. Some say that they're stolen by unseen beings who use them for sanitary purposes. Others believe that the pairing of two socks in a clothes dryer creates a portal into another world at a distant location - say, a drive-thru window at a McDonald's three states away - and when someone accidentally drives through that portal one of the socks goes along for the ride and allows the passenger the opportunity to return to this world should he ever so desire.

Whatever the cause, many of us have mourned the loss of a sock at some point. So, take pity on the poor soul who so carefully photoshopped this sign and posted it on the window of the now-defunct Figaro Cafe on Bleecker Street in New York. And let's hope that someone, somewhere is enjoying the good life in an alternate universe.

High Five!

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Some of the newly unemployed are finding one very distinct upside to the recent downturn in their professional outlook: their sex lives are better than ever. Sarah Finn-MacKeith, formerly of Lehman Brothers, is ecstatic about the upswing, "Granted, I haven't found a partner yet but, having so much free time has really enabled me to explore my pleasure center." Brian Lu, a former director of development for a local arts organization agrees, "When I was still employed I really didn't have the time for a full-on relationship and now that I've been laid off no one will return my calls and go out with me. Still, at least I don't have to suffer though the agony of wondering if someone I'm having dinner with will have sex with me later on that night. All the anxiety is gone. I eat alone and I go to bed alone but at least I don't have to worry about STD's."

Peeping Puppy

You would be able to buy this dog-spy item from Hammacher Schlemmer for only $29.95 if they weren't already sold out. That's right, not only do a whole bunch of folks think their dog has every right to spy on the family next door, they are willing to go to the expense and trouble of installing a device that enables Fido to exercise his own version of the Patriot Act without the risk of being poisoned or merely bitch-slapped by outraged neighbors.