Homage to Bottle Rocketonia

I recorded another hit song. I also made a video for it. Here it is:

photo 9

photo 6 or video 1: the world's first perfect song or how i learned to stop worrying about state-sponsored class warfare and love dogs

Many goings on lately: an absolutely enlightening piece on Democracy Now! about the House's initial failure to pass the inevitable corporate bailout (PS - Bruce Marks is my new homey); NHL heavyweight the NY Rangers miraculously though predictably come from behind to defeat KHL also-ran Metallurg Magnitogorsk in the inaugural Victoria Cup in beautiful Bern (PS - the best KHL teams equal the good NHL teams on big ice and it makes for spectacular hockey); and perhaps most importantly (at least in terms of escapism), a new TV on the Radio album this week (PS - it is phenomenal and not hyperbolic to be deemed the best album I've heard in a long time). Special recognition for my current favorite song of all-time, "Love Dog" ("lonely little love dog, no one knows the name of"): my experimentally clunky yet sincere ode to this ridiculously great song and an even more ridiculous dog:

pasha's log: day 13

the penultimate day here in mexico brings a cornucopia of feeling: happy to get back to the comfy home turf of the apartment, excited to see the homeys at the dogpark, sad to leave the beach and sun behind, scared to go in the kennel again, tired just thinking about the long traveling day ahead. unfortunately mother nature did not bequeath me with a tongue slick enough to fully convey the turbulent swirls of emotions wisping through my li'l doggie head and heart. rather, i'll leave you with a sample of pictures from our beautiful time here. raddy says it's not the best set he's taken, but that there are a few that's he quite proud of, nonetheless. see if you can guess which ones they are.

pasha´s log: day 7

Saddle up boys and girls, Pashi here to take you on another wild ride through the on-goings, goings-ons, and all other happnins down here in the sandy peninsula that once saw Mayans live like kings, building all kinds of crazy big, right-angled pyramid structures and sacrificing fools at the top of ‘em. Kinda like the way Raddy and me are rollin’ right now. Ok, not exactly true, there’s not too much going on down here, but Raddy let me sip some mescals (smaller portions for me, mescalitos he says), so I’m a bit more rambling and florid in my writing style than normal (kinda like how Raddy usually writes but don’t tell him I said that, he’s real sensitive about that type of criticism). Another hot one down here, and por supuesto (I been working on mi espaňol, estoy pensando “cuando estas en Rome,” so I figure I’m basically at Raddy’s level now) some more real good walks on the beach too. I dug up a sand crab, got my paws wet in the water for a bit, chewed on some sticks, etc. I can’t complain, that’s for sure. Rommy’s basically gone insane with the cooking operation; she’s been devouring Mexican cookbooks and spending most of her time “experimenting,” as she calls it, with various local chilies. One time it was so crazy in the kitchen everyone’s eyes and noses got burnt just from the smells in the kitchen. Raddy’s been reading some depressing book about a British Consul wandering around Mexico drinking and complaining about his wife leaving him – he says, in typical overdramatic, hyperbolic Raddy fashion, “it’s one of the greatest works of our time,” but I’m pretty sure he just read someone say that in a New Yorker article and now spouts it off like uncontroverted gospel. In any case, he seems to enjoy reading it as he doesn’t reach for the TV remote after every page to find a hockey game, as he does back home. The cooking onslaught continued unabated as Rommy whipped up some evidently phantasmagoric pollo con salsa verde with all the fixings. I say “evidently” because I wasn’t able to have any, but judging by the sounds they made while eating it, and their inability to move afterwards, they enjoyed it much. Following the meal I witnessed the sobering and upsetting sight of Rommy soaking her hands in a bowl of milk to soothe the burning from the stains of hot peppers on her fingers, and Raddy painfully but determinedly taking down a bowl of ice cream slovenly lathered in nutella spread, all while they both watched with half glazed-over eyes and gaping mouths The American Office on TV (with Raddy screaming loudly, “this is so much worse than The British Office, and I don’t like that show either! And another thing about the British, they suck!”) I know everyone is supposed to be embarrassed by their parents, but I submit this as evidence in the contest for first place in that one. Ahhh, I am going to assume my position on the bed – on my back with all four paws in the air. Otro mescalito, por favor.

pasha´s log: day 3

Boy, you take one quick li’l catnap on the beach and it ends up all over the internet. Doesn’t seem right. This morning started real nice with a quick li’l run on the beach and in the ocean even a bit. I think Rommy and Raddy must be tired or something because the run seemed a lot shorter than we usually go for. I did some serious digging on the beach, hunted around for some of those weird looking creatures that I sometimes find in the sand, scurrying along sideways, but no such luck today. We went back our place and relaxed for a bit. I was starting to feel much more comfortable and at home in my new surroundings, that is, until I got into a bit of a fight with the big black dog that lives around here. I’m not exactly sure what happened but she was coming near me on our porch and the next thing I know she’s on top of me trying to separate my head from body. It was no big deal, though. My mouth did feel a bit different after, almost like something was missing. And there was a sweet tasting liquid coming from somewhere, I’m not sure where, that I licked up. Afterwards, Raddy was acting real nervous, more so than usual even. I got to go for a car ride after that and stuck my head out the window when the car was going real fast. Raddy and another man took me inside to see some guy who looked at my chin and mouth for a bit, and then we left. Basically, just relaxed the rest of the day before going to the beach again later. It’s hard to sleep here because there’s so much going on all the time, so I was real sleepy by nighttime. Rommy cooked some real good food and I even got to have some of it, it was real soft and white and chewy and smelled like the ocean, mmm mmm. I’m licking my lips just thinking about it. There are rumors I’ll be having steak tomorrow, licking my lips about that too. A guy could really get used to this eating.

Editor’s Note: A lost tooth and a fair gash under the chin was the damage. He’s a hockey player now, one that is infinitely tougher and braver than his hockey playing companion. I feel much better about the whole incident now, but here’s something I wrote immediately after what had been a pretty rough couple of days for him and us: “As the extreme sadness, already preceded by fits of terror, anger, disgust, and disappointment in my self and the world, washes over a pathetic and useless body and soul, it’s a challenge to feel pleasance, and even harder to feel anything all. The alcohol helps with the latter, certainly, but the search for the former remains as elusive and hopeless as ever. No, more so.”

pasha´s log: day 2

This is number one in a series of entries written by our dog describing his reflections on our two week vacation through the Yucatan Peninsula, Mexico.

Well, I woke up today (and several times through the night) in a very strange place. It’s much warmer here than back at home, and the smells are pretty different, but in a good way I guess, too. There are also all sorts of li’l bugs that crawl around on the ground, especially by my food, and some that fly in the air too. Raddy and Rommy are here, thank god, but they slept most of the morning. I tried to get them to wake up and let me see what was going on outside for a while before Raddy finally lumbered out of bed, grumpily I might add, and let me scope out the new digs. Boy, was it worth it, there’s so much green grass everywhere and interesting plants and trees (to pee on) and flowers (to munch on). And it’s not cold out at all like back home. I definitely don’t need to wear a jacket, and I can even wander around without that silly leash around my neck. This is all a much welcomed development, especially after what happened yesterday. I had to go in my stupid kennel and be separated from the humans again, except this time it seemed a lot longer than usual, and I even had a few different people take me and put me in several small places where I was all alone and heard lots of scary sounds. I’m not very good with time so I don’t know how long it was, by the time I finally saw my parents, I was so tired and scared, and I had to pee so bad, it really wasn’t very fun. But then I saw them and they let me out of my kennel and we went for a nice, long walk, and we even got to go for a car ride, and I felt much better. I didn’t rest as much as normal, and I still feel a li’l sleepy, but it’s nice to stretch my legs and to feel the sun again. I have no clue where we are but I’m looking forward to a good time, and of course being with my loving, if slightly silly, pack, as always.

Editor’s Note: The three of us had a direct flight from JFK, NYC to Cancun Sunday morning. The flight originally purchased to be on the prior Saturday was unexpectedly and without reason given cancelled, by the good folks at American Airlines, and we were re-booked for the next day, losing a day of precious vacation time (that I am on what appears to be a permanent vacation is besides the point). While the humans arrived as scheduled in the afternoon, we were notified that Pashi, my number #1 li’l guy and raison d’etre, was not placed on our plane, but rather, was sent on a different flight (from Laguardia!) to Dallas (good lord, I’ve never even been to Dallas!) and would be coming to Cancun 6 hours later than scheduled. Between hysterical fits of crying and gnashing of teeth, we waited and did what we could to keep on. He finally arrived in our arms, at around 9pm local time, just shy of 13 hours after we said goodbye to him in his kennel in New York. If there are any plots out there to bomb the corporate offices of American Airlines, and/or the homes of all its executive officers, I will work day and night for the rest of my life to finance the entire operation. (Those of you that know me know that the last statement is patently untrue, not because of my reluctance to maniacally pursue uselessly excessive vengeance, but rather, my inability to work day and night for any cause, no matter how dear).

dont leave me, guys

This is our dog, Pasha. He’s a rascal, a fighter, a lover, a terrier, and as you can see here, quite a pouter. He sits atop the highly unofficial and equally vague, “greatest guys ever” list. He is also my best friend. I can safely say that (safely not in terms of certainty, but in terms of not expecting physical retribution) because I don’t think my girlfriend reads any of this. (Reminiscent of the line from the late, great Mitch Hedberg: "I don't have a girlfriend, I just know a girl who would get really mad if she heard me say that.") She and I are taking a quick trip to the sultry wasteland known as Los Angeles to see the nieces, catch some rays, and eat at the In-N-Out Burger. In addition to the horrifyingly execrable experience of familial dysfunction, these trips bring on the gut-wrenching decision of either leaving the li’lest guy (also known as Pashi, Mushu, or Mushi-mushu, if you're not into the whole brevity thing) here in the cold and lonely megalopolis, or sticking him under tons of steel making what I imagine are terrifying noises for hours as we’re all transported across the country, him into the tired and regretful clenches of underpaid baggage handlers who I hope are kind enough not to dognapp and sell him on the black market for the tens of thousands of dollars he's surely worth but rather see that he arrives safely and without incident into my welcoming and nervously awaiting arms. ("I know I'm paranoid, but am I, too paranoid?") We have decided that the stress and trauma of being left alone in our apartment with his sitter (which we cannot come close to estimating with any certainty) is less than the stress and trauma of accompanying us via checked baggage (which we also cannot come close to estimating with any certainty) on our fairly short trip. Probably the safest decision, but one that will nevertheless bring me immeasurable anxiety, longing, and sadness over the course of the next few days. Don’t worry li’l guy, Raddy will be home soon.