Category: Absurdities

This is better than Lesley Stowe.  What’s become of you, Lesley?  Lesley Stowe  There you are.  Crinkles come in these long, slender packages 25 to a box.  You know.  The forest green box with the cellophane cover so you can look in there and see what’s going on with these round, cracker-looking things.

They’re like crackers but they’re not crackers.  They’re “Crinkles”.  Christmas crinkles.  Mostly they’re pretty good but occasionally they’ll snap back and make you wonder why you ever dreamed of buying another package of these darn things. You always do.

December 20.  “I don’t know what it reminds me of, but it reminds me of something.  Do you have it?  Its green.”

December 21.  News Item.  “I didn’t want to talk to him and he didn’t want to talk to me.  Fair enough.  Both busy as all.  Putin’s like a child that you just can’t hate.  Is he a bad fit for his electorate?  Of course, but he’s your child and you have to take care.  So that’s a good thing.  Here’s the flashlight.  And here’s the batteries, Mr. Putin.”

Going strong into the Christmas crinkles and you realize.  Still a guilty pleasure if you have the patience.  Understanding.  Patience.  Resolve.  Staying power.  Patience.  You can do it.  How long has Charlie Sheen been wearing a wig?  It’s re-runs.  Here it is again for another year.

I never thought of this before.  One of my dearest friends was born on the shortest day of the year.  Suddenly, like about two minutes ago, this hits me like a hammer-blow.  It must explain everything.  But it doesn’t unlock the mystery of friendship.  We can live with that.

I love these cards.  It’s like when you’re a kid.  We got this one Friday.  Getting cards isn’t what it used to be.  It looks like people are sending them less.  They’ve moved on now to using social media as a substitute for communication, so there’s been that change.

“I found everything I wanted,” I said to the sales associate at the point-of-sale this afternoon.  I didn’t have to say anything, but this just blurted out.  If you have the time to take your time it can put a smile on the face of the person processing your method of payment.

I haven’t shopped here for a while but the selection is better than ever.  I was impressed by that last week which is why I came back.

 

 

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