Category: Absurdities

It comes out of the night. Especially the night before it’s December 10, 2015 and you’re due to buy a Christmas tree.  And you wonder. Hopefully, it’ll go okay.

Remember when scholars of the Queen’s English derided “hopefully”? As a way of vocalizing and expressing the idea of hope?  That it wasn’t good enough?  It wasn’t British?  That the proper way of speaking is, “It is to be hoped”?  Remember?  Let’s forget it then.  But “hopefully” has made huge strides in the last several decades.  It means what it says.

Nobody’s tried to contact us about this.  We’re here.  Go ahead.  It’s when ‘you’re struggling in the moment’ that clichés ‘come home to roost’.

4:25 pm.  Lord Byng’s not a bad lord.  From what we see from the “Staff Parking Lot Do Not Enter”.  We ignore that forbidding sign and drive right in.  All you teachers, we don’t much care about your rules.  We’re here to obtain a Christmas tree.  Hopefully.

I was looking up at the great edifice of Lord Byng high school.  It’s been here a long time.  A fine gentleman, a couple of them, actually, that I had the pleasure and privilege of knowing and who have died, but they were very old, attended Lord Byng in the 1930s.  Exact same school in the exact same place.Their lives are forfeit and their skins are stuffed but if that was your sailing ship and if that was your grizzly bear you might revise your opinion of taxidermy, mister.

The taxidermy shop is gone and so is the taxidermist.  For years, years ago, I remember driving past the place.  It used to be right across the street from “Central Park”.  I never knew either why they called it “Central Park”.  Central to what?  The park’s on the extreme keening edge of the western extremity of the City of Burnaby.  A lot of things make no sense.

The students attending the Christmas tree lot were friendly and helpful.  They were professional, but not professional students.  They were the real thing.  One fine young gentleman packed our preferred, usual, semi-scrawny selection to the trunk of our vehicle.  Big trunk and with one of the back seats down it disappeared right in there and we dropped the trunk-lid with a satisfying ka-thunk.

Don’t just walk away, Renée.  It’s taxidermy time.  Lost Sunday.  It’s dead.  Not interested.  Or something poignant, something out of Satie.  Mystery moments.

samoyeddogs is 100 posts old today.  I mean yesterday.  A century.  A c-note.  What’s it mean?  I’ve no idea, Jock.   ‘A mystery wrapped in an enigma…’  That sounds accurate.  About as accurate as anything else going on around here.  So little has changed I hardly know where to begin.

One thing at the site we’ve wanted to accomplish is to expose clichés for what they are.  100 per-cent gold.  We strive for cliché and I know you’ll want to join me in saying one thing.  There’s little doubt the best stuff on the site is 100 per-cent cliché.  Okay, that’s a couple of things.  Not as easy as it sounds either.  I appreciate that.

I’ve noticed a more serious tone creeping into the site.  Not sure what that’s about, and not sure anybody around here knows either, or that much of anything can be done about it.  I doubt it’ll last.  Some of us are half-thinking it might be a good time to pack things up around here.  Surely you’re joking, Mr. Folderol.  A world without samoyeddogs?  Yip yip, bark howl.  Don’t do it, buddy.  I will sit up nice.

So here comes a big muchas gracias to all the followers of samoyeddogs human, bot, spam, mistake.  All are welcome.  Lost track after 100,000 of you kind things and please keep the love flowing.  It feels good.  Love, as you know, is one of the pillars holding up this massive undertaking.

I don’t know.  I just don’t know.  It could be that I don’t want to know, but, in any event, I’m just not sure.  Not sure at all.  And between not being sure, and not knowing, well, there has to be somebody out there who can figure this out for us.  I’m always looking to make that connection.

That’s what I’m counting on.  One thing I do know.  There’s no substitute for vacuousness. And the goal remains the same.  Keep it coming.  An oasis of inanity in a sea of insanity.  Maybe we’ll just mix in here and double down on that.

More to come…  taxidermy

 

Yeah that’s right. Twenty years to break me down. I saw the 2010 movie and I thought, “No. I’m still not gonna do it. Sign up for the Facebook.”

I mean, I liked the movie. “The Social Network”? And Jessie Eisenberg?  Always so darn cute. Loved the movie.  But was I gonna do it even after that?  No way, as we used to say.  And I didn’t.  And I wouldn’t.  You often just wonder who cares?

But I’m on the “Facebook” now.  And you’ve probably digested my complete profile by now.  Everything breaks down into the eensiest, teensiest particles of complete information about everything, everywhere, all the time.  This was the future.  Even I predicted it.  Is it a good thing?  Too late for that.

Strange thing, people you’ve never heard of coming up to you on the data stream wanting to be your friend.  The list of contestants is getting longer every day.  Who are these people?

It’s good for pictures.  Odd, strange little semi-unexplained images.  Photography’s such fun.  Especially when you’re an amateur.  You don’t have to worry too much about absolute precision.  Or some putz stealing your stuff and passing it off as their own.  You can have it, loser!  That’s the spirit.

So it’s over now.  I forget the rest.  “Thought I’d something more to say.”