Sherlock’s Doppelganger

I was sent an email from my good writing friend Deb Woehr.
The email had some truly amazing pictures.
I sent it to many people.
If you didn’t get a copy, leave a comment and I’ll send it on to you.
What amazed me ( and my wife) was the picture above.
I swear to God, it looks exactly like my male cat, Sherlock!
Maybe it’s his identical twin; a feline doppelganger of sorts.
Too cool.
I’m off next week and plan on reading, writing, drinking some beer, smoking some good cigars, watching some movies, raking some leaves and cooking alot.
(a pot of Guinness Chili is already on my mind)
Sarah has been bugging me for Chicken Parm. (on its way, for sure)
I’m off starting Sunday but on Monday I truly start my “vacation” with a massage from my good friend and fellow blogger Yvonne.
Good God, I can’t wait. {and she knows that :0)}
Not sure what’s up for the blog but chances are I’ll be around in some capacity.
Have a great weekend, folks.
Go Sox! Go Pats! Go Celts! Go Bruins!
It’s great to be from New England these days . . .

~m

Sherlock's Doppelganger

I was sent an email from my good writing friend Deb Woehr.
The email had some truly amazing pictures.
I sent it to many people.
If you didn’t get a copy, leave a comment and I’ll send it on to you.
What amazed me ( and my wife) was the picture above.
I swear to God, it looks exactly like my male cat, Sherlock!
Maybe it’s his identical twin; a feline doppelganger of sorts.
Too cool.
I’m off next week and plan on reading, writing, drinking some beer, smoking some good cigars, watching some movies, raking some leaves and cooking alot.
(a pot of Guinness Chili is already on my mind)
Sarah has been bugging me for Chicken Parm. (on its way, for sure)
I’m off starting Sunday but on Monday I truly start my “vacation” with a massage from my good friend and fellow blogger Yvonne.
Good God, I can’t wait. {and she knows that :0)}
Not sure what’s up for the blog but chances are I’ll be around in some capacity.
Have a great weekend, folks.
Go Sox! Go Pats! Go Celts! Go Bruins!
It’s great to be from New England these days . . .

~m

Deep thoughts of the everyday K9

boodog

Got this from my buddy, Gerry . . . like 6 months ago.
The following is a list of things that dogs just don’t like about us humans.
I’ve taken the liberty of editing a few of them.
Enjoy.
~m

  1. Blaming your farts on me….not funny…not funny at all !!!
  2. Yelling at me for barking. I’M A FRIGGIN’ DOG, YOU ASSCLOWN!
  3. Taking me for a walk, then not letting me check stuff out. Exactly whose walk is this anyway?
  4. Any trick that involves balancing food on my nose. Just stop it!
  5. Any haircut that involves bows or ribbons. That’s for snobbyass French poodles. Now you know why we chew your stuff up when you’re not home.
  6. The sleight of hand, fake fetch throw. You fooled a dog! Hooooooooweeee, what a proud moment for the top of the food chain.
  7. Taking me to the vet for “the big snip”, then acting surprised when I freak out every time we go back!
  8. Getting upset when I sniff the crotches of your guests. Sorry, but I haven’t quite mastered that handshake thing yet. I got paws, remember?
  9. Dog sweaters. Hello ??? Haven’t you noticed the fur?
  10. How you act disgusted when I lick my junk. Look, we both know the truth. You’re just jealous.

Letting Go

I find myself once again at a crucial and necessary point in my life where a situation leaves me with no turning back and no time left for second chances.
If this post comes across as somewhat cryptic, it should,
I’m in camouflage mode right now.
There’s a part of me that wants to run away if only to spare myself the inevitable emotional turbulence most likely to be encountered . . . but I can’t run away anymore.

It took a conversation with a very special friend to help me see the proverbial ‘forest through the trees’ and there will be no turning back, no gazing in the rear view mirror.
The time has come for me to sit one on one with my dad and tell him it’s alright to let go.

He’s holding on for reasons that only he knows.

I’ll take his aged and creased hands in mine and tell him as lovingly as possible that my sister and I are fine, that my mother waits patiently on the other side, that he can finally rest his weary head.
There’s a selfish part of me that never wanted to experience a scenario such as this, a part of me that wanted some silly miracle, an impossibility and medically improbable wish upon a non-existent star.

The little boy in me just doesn’t want to give his father the blessing he truly deserves, and though I understand it I’m having a very difficult time with the goodbye part.

I just can’t let go.

In my heart, I see my mother as I did that day long ago, on
Mayflower Beach but this time she’s not walking away she’s holding out her hand to my father.
They’ve both been alone for far too long and I know my father’s heart can’t take much more.

I have to tell my dad, ‘you can let go now‘.

I want him to touch the stars, and be that long forgotten prayer I’ve held inside me since they both got sick; I want them to once again be together . . .
Maybe I just needed time to understand that.

There will be a crystal winter night in the not too distant future that will find me gazing at the mysterious night sky.
A star will sparkle in such a way that it catches my eye.
As I look a bit closer I’ll notice that it’s not one star, but two.
Maybe then I’ll be able to let them go.
Though I doubt it . . .

~m

Asshole

A death row inmate in Ohio feels lethal injection is unconstitutional cruel and unusual punishment.
Cry me a river, asshole.
Let me make sure I am crystal fucking clear on this; he raped and stabbed to death a 14 year old girl in cold blood and is complaining about the way he will die.

It’s cruel and unusual punishment?

Really? Come on, you disgusting cretin.

You are so low in the human decency scale that you’d have to climb a ladder to blow a snake, for God’s sake, you assclown.
You have no voice in this, as far as I’m concerned.
Shut the hell up and just die.
It frosts my stones to no end that we actually entertain the thought, all at the risk of political effin’correctness.
Please excuse my really bad French.

My wife served jury duty last week.
The case she was (almost) selected to serve on was fairly clean cut; a defendant was caught red-handed with handguns and drugs and was supposedly associated with a murder.
22 some odd State Troopers were standing nearby to give their testimony against this slimy piece of shit.
Everyone awaiting a jury appointment was asked a series of questions to rule out bias and impartiality.

“Is there anyone here that has already formed an opinion regarding this case?”

My wife {God love her} raises her hand and is called to the judge’s bench.

The conversation went something like this:

“Mrs. Murphy, you’ve already formed an opinion on this case?”

“Yeah. Guilty.”

“Mrs. Murphy? You’re excused.”

There may have been a bit more conversation but that’s all the ammo I needed to write this post.

What am I missing here?
Our judicial system is on way more drugs than Jimi Hendrix was when he was playing Woodstock.
Really, what am I missing here?
As far as Romell Broom goes, screw him.
I say fry his pussy death row ass . . .
And that’s almost too good for the likes of him.
As a taxpayer, I’m so sick and tired of paying for 3 squares a day, a bed with blankets and a roof over the head of slimebags like this guy.
I rant, therefore, I am.
Pissed? Ayup.
Can you tell stories like this bother me a bit?
Please excuse me while I go and vomit.
~m