Last week, knowing that Mom would be busy tending to her wounded beau, I sent a message to my standing group text with my friends looking for someone to accompany me to tonight's 7PM football game between #2 UGA and #9 Mississippi. They ignored me.

To add insult to injury, my so-called "friends" were unsympathetic the following day when I complained about people who put up and decorate Christmas trees the first week in November. Are they really my friends if they hate live football and think Christmas should be celebrated before Thanksgiving? I say no.

So I did what any sane person would do: I deleted the group text chain from my phone and went to the game by myself.

Sure, it was cold and drizzly, but I still had a great time (and a hand warmer), mostly because the Bulldogs were totally dominant (and because Mom wasn't there to talk me out of bringing a hand warmer to the game). The seniors were celebrated; the veterans were celebrated; the SEC Champion soccer team was celebrated.... After halftime, it was pretty much all celebration inside the 9th largest football stadium in the world. These are good times to be a Bulldogs fan.

There are still two games remaining on the season, but this was the last home game of the year, an unusually early ending to a (mostly lousy) home schedule. Looking back at the four I attended, Kentucky was the most fun, but this was an easy second place. The question is whether I will be back next year.

It is getting very hard to find people to go to the games with me, especially since I have fewer friends than I thought I did. (Christmas tree-hugging bastards!) So spending thousands on a couple of tickets I can't (and don't want to) always use is starting to seem like a bad use of my money.

I'll see how I feel when the bill comes due in February.

In the meantime, do as Miss Manners advises and "finish your turkey before putting up Christmas." Assholes.

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Dad had Rambo put down today. Rambo was almost 14 years old, and in the past year he was diagnosed with laryngeal paralysis, which made it harder and harder for him to breathe. Apparently the hot August air was the last straw.

Rambo in better times.

I always lead these dog obituary posts with the cause of death, but that's not how I remember any of them. What I'll remember Rambo for is his single-minded determination to do whatever it was that he wanted to do.

Rambo was appropriately named. He bit his dad on several occasions, and bit me once or twice when he didn't want to do what we wanted him to do (or as fast as we wanted him to do it). While living on a ranch in Florida, he went toe-to-toe with bulls who were standing in the wrong places. I wouldn't say that Rambo won any of those encounters, but he might have said so.

Yeah, he could be sweet. He liked to sit beside me on the sofa while we watched football games, and he was a total bed hog. But what I'll remember is his orneriness. I think he'd be happy with that, too.

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I had a dream last night in which I was in a romantic relationship with a human woman, and it was kind of nice. Was that the point of the dream? I don't know. Do dreams have points? In any event, it made me consider whether I should look into being in a romantic relationship again.

Of course, any potential candidates would have to meet a few basic qualifications first. Obviously she'd have to like dogs, laugh at my good jokes, and at least tolerate football and video games. I'd prefer a girl better looking and smarter than I am, but I'll settle for average looks and significantly-better-than-average intelligence. Brightly-colored dyed hair is a plus.

If I found someone like that, before we went on a date, she'd have to answer the following brief questionnaire:

1. When is the right time of year to wear open-toed shoes?
2. Which of Alfred Hitchcock's movies is the best?
3. How early is too early for stores to start selling Halloween decorations in advance of Halloween?
4. Marvel or DC?
5. What's the proper response to "We don't have Coke. Is Pepsi Okay?"

If there is a woman alive who can pass those criteria, honestly, she probably deserves better than me. Live long and prosper, awesome lady!

For the record, correct answers are 1. Never; 2. My personal preference is Rope but I'll accept anything but Vertigo; 3. September 23; 4. DC; and 5. Burn the place down and salt the ashes.

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54/2220. Stray Dog (1949)
I intentionally followed my viewing of Cats with this Akira Kurosawa writen/directed police procedural, which is a much better movie. Its only real flaw is a lack of actual dogs. The true subject is the directionless state of young men in post-WWII Tokyo, hence the allegorical title.

55/2221. The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh (1979)
Unlike Strange Dogs, I bumped into this by pure happenstance. I'm glad I did. The premise of a basketball team built on astrology is inherently silly, but that's the sort of film this is, and it dives in head-first (see: Jonathan Winters as a goofball team owner and his own evil twin brother.) Like most home aquariums, it's fun but not deep.

Coca-Cola is a performance-enhancing drug

56/2222. Carle Laemmle (2019)
The descendants of Universal Studios founder Carle Laemmle who participated in this documentary would have you believe that the man was a saint. Maybe he was, but it's hard to imagine that he united his competitors and defeated the Edison Motion Picture trust without at least having a iron-rod backbone.

60/2226. Burden of Dreams (1982)
The numbering on this one is out of order because I logged it late. Oops. But also pretty fitting considering the subject. In hindsight, I now know that this documentary was the explicit basis for the very silly 2-part 2022 Documentary Now episode "Soldier of Illusion." The lengths that Werner Herzog went through to make his Amazon River movie are terrifying.

57/2223. The Apple (1980)
The Apple is, without a doubt, the single greatest movie musical ever made about Adam and Eve as rockstars in a world dominated by the recording executive devil. The makers of Cats could learn a few lessons on how to do "bonkers" right.

There's a ton of Coke in this film, very little of which is bottled.

More to come.

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I gave Henry three baths today. Now I'm sitting here too exhausted to blog... and he's outside running around the yard with Louis. If he comes inside dirty this time, he's spending the night in his kennel.

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I swear, you turn your back for half a minute....

I thought I saw something on the camera, so that's why I wandered out of frame for a second. You'll note that I was savvy enough to ensure the door was safely closed before I did. I'm so smart. But my poodles are smarter.

For the record, the boxes contained new couch covers to replace the ones they had destroyed earlier in the week. In hindsight, that was obviously part of their cunning escape plan. Poodles play the long con!

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From this week's Newnan Times-Herald:

Quote:

The Coweta County Sheriff's Office has been hosting the conference since 1993, offering free training for law enforcement and first responders in areas such as long range precision rifle (above photo) K-9 handling, DUI detection, use of force, State Opioid Adapted Response and the legalities of various aspects of policing.

Personally, I had my fill of "long range precision rifle K-9 handling" the one time I watched Old Yeller.

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Happy 2nd Birthday, Henry!

Henry's great-aunt Kelley (that's her hand) brought hats, and Henry, Louis, Audrey, and Kelley's newest dog, Topper, were all treated to Waffle House leftovers.

Audrey likes her hash browns scattered and covered — and she tolerated the hat only long enough to get some.

Henry, on the other hand, was happy to wear his hat the whole time. He's always happy just to be included.

Good dogs! Here's to many more birthdays to come.

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I am having the worst time finding a replacement for my Georgia cap.

You will not be surprised to learn that I'm kind of particular. I prefer pictures of bulldogs to the traditional, elliptical Georgia "G." Elastic hat bands are passible; adjustable straps are not. Most importantly, the cap has had to be red.

For most of the past two decades, I've been able to buy a new cap for most football seasons despite my laundry list of requirements. That stopped in 2020, in part because I didn't need a hat that season. Since then, it's been hard to find any hats that fit my criteria, much less ones with art I like. The stores in my town seem don't seem to want to sell anything to me. (Does no one wear ball caps anymore?)

Last week, I threw in the towel and decided that my best bet for a non-adjustable 2023 might be an actual Nike UGA baseball hat — even though they aren't all red. So I found one in my size on the Internet and ordered it, and of course, when it arrived, it didn't fit. Too big. Apparently they run a little large.

I gave that hat to someone who still has hair, and it fits him fine. Meanwhile, my search continues. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll find something before kickoff this September.

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