The Doomsday Clock, Simon Cowell is the Only One Who Cares, and My Demon Dog.

Last week, in a nutshell, wasn’t too bad.

First there was news of the
Doomsday Clock moving
5 minutes before midnight. Now at first I was a little concerned, I mean this
clock is counting down to the end of the world – shouldn’t we all be stockpiling
food and water? This has to be as bad as Y2K, right? Well isn’t it? Oh wait; I
have no idea what the hell the Doomsday Clock is! Apparently I live under a rock
because this is a very important turn of events. After a quick search on the
information superhighway all is revealed. I found out that I don’t know anything
about this clock because I missed every issue of the Bulletin of the Atomic
Scientists, since 1947. Whew! I was really worried. Somehow that information was
missing among
global warming
,

WMD’s
and

Britney Spears
not wearing underwear while out partying. Which makes me
wonder why in the world are a bunch of geeks changing time on a clip-art clock
every time they decide some nuclear threat has changed (did I mention it is an
arbitrary decision). Oh I know! They are

"experts."
Need I say more……?

Then there is the start of
American Idol. Now I
must admit I do not care for the actual competition, I like to see the
auditions. I mean come on; can you believe there are people who don’t realize
they suck as bad as they do? I love the contestants that go up there, sing like
goats being tortured, and cry when Simon tells them the truth. How is it
possible that people can go through life actually thinking they have the best
voice on the planet? Do all of their friends and families actually think they
are good? Aren’t they supposed to love ya, or at least want to protect the
family name? It is mind-boggling. From what I can tell the only person who
actually loves these people (or humanity) is Simon. Hell, he will actually look
you in the face and tell you the truth. There should be less bashing of Simon
and more bashing of the uncaring family members who would rather you be
publicly humiliated then tell you, in private, that you can’t sing.

To round off my week I successfully took my demon dog to the vet. Now you
have to experience my demon dog to truly understand the success of this event.
My demon will bite just about anyone, at anytime, because you only thought about
touching her (I have scars to prove it). Now since her demonic behavior did not
appear until I had her for over 2 years, I couldn’t get rid of her because,
well, she was my demon dog. So, after extensive training and Prozac (for me and
the dog), I have been able to control most of her anger issues. This last one
was a stress free trip to the vet (for me not her). Face it, what dog wants
needles and fingers stuck in their butt? Usually this trip consists of a few
sedatives and three to four vet assistances holding her still. This time, after
five minutes and only three angry snaps at my hands, I was able to get a muzzle
on her. This was then followed by a calm, quiet, sober dog taking a shot in her
butt, and allowing fingers up her butt, without so much as a whimper. Could this
mean the exorcism worked? Only time will tell.

See Ya!
Trash

  • Dave

    Finally someone sees that Simon is saving us from crappy singers.