Dogg on My Blog

 

Tonight I talked to Light Bright for the first time in ages, but we lost twenty minutes from Boethius having trouble opening WebEx, so we had to use Zoom. Sigh. Maybe it is time to consider getting a newer computer... Light Bright is doing a new diet called Hard 30 or something like that, where you can only eat meat, fruit, and vegetables. My doctor suggested I try the South Beach diet, but neither Light Bright nor I know what that is. I guess you have to buy the book...? What I keep hearing is that the Mediterranean Diet is the best one, which would be fine with me. I could eat falafel every day. It sounds way more delicious than Light Bright's new diet.

Today a package came for Travalon, and he said it was one of my Christmas presents. He thought it was supposed to arrive weeks ago, but apparently it had to come from China. Here it is:

Can you guess what it is? Give up? It's a Snoop Dogg Elf on the Shelf. Which is kind of hilarious, because it takes something that's supposed to be child-friendly but is really creepy (Elf on the Shelf) and combines it with something not child-friendly at all but way less creepy, if way more likely to say "motherf--ker." Is Snoop Dogg always watching me? Is he reporting back to Travalon on whether or not I behave? Guess I'll find out next Christmas... He's Snoop in the Loop! He's the Dogg on my blog!

DuoLingo gave me this cheery sticker.

I complete the challenge every month (and DuoLingo helpfully says I do it faster than 95% of users), but this is the first time I remember getting a sticker. I like this one because it's fireworks. What is the challenge, you may ask? It's doing 100 XP worth of exercises. What does XP stand for? I really don't know, but it sounds like a rating for Snoop Dogg. "Yo, that new joint is lit, but don't let yo mama hear it cuz it's crazy XP! It isn't just mothers that are f--king on this record!"

I have now done a little internet sleuthing, and the actual name of my new toy is Snoop on a Stoop. And guess what? It's not officially endorsed by the real Snoop Dogg. How could I not have known any of this before? Apparently it was the hottest toy of Christmas 2021, which, as you may remember, happened like three weeks ago. Where was I, in a coma? How did I just learn about this now?

Famous Hat  

Janesville and Beloit and a Rainbow

Today was very hot, so Travalon and I took a walk at Pheasant Branch, since it is mostly shaded on the path, and it runs along a creek. There were lots of children playing in the creek, so that was fun to see. We kind of wanted to join them, but instead we drove to Janesville and checked out a couple of antiques shops. I didn't find any rosaries, but at one I did find a January birthday Beanie Baby bear, and Travalon found plenty of stuff. For example, he loves the Flinstones, so he got a sign that says: "The original man cave!" with a picture of Fred Flinstone on it. Then we drove down to South Beloit just over the border of Illinois, because they told us there was an even bigger antiques store there, but it didn't have any rosaries. There was another one across the street - no rosaries, but I found a cute stuffed parrot, and Travalon found a great Hamms Bear sign. Then we went to a park we had passed on the way, along the banks of the Rock River, and we took a walk out onto Turtle Island. We passed some geese eating grass, so I started singing, "I wish I were a goose just eating grass," to the tune of "Arkansas Traveler," and that somehow morphed into gangsta rap songs about various waterfowl.Travalon was at least as good at this game as I was. I said, "It never rained, so I'll have to water my garden plot when we get back," but then I checked my phone's weather app, and right then it was storming in Madison. By the time we got back it was more of a gentle rain, and then as we sat on our porch, the sun came out so I ran outside to see if there was a rainbow. Indeed there was!

Here are some recent photos. First, a stargazer lily and a sunflower in our neighborhood.

Here are some shots of Devil's Lake: the Baraboo quartzite on the hillside, and two shots of the lake itself, including looking toward the crowded beach on the North Shore.

And here are some pictures of the rainbow!

I took these two shots several minutes apart. You can see all the colors in the first one, but as the sun was setting, the reds and yellows are more emphasized in the second one.

And this is a panoramic shot of the rainbow. It worked a little better than the one where a headless Travalon was about to be swallowed by a tsunami on Lake Wisconsin, but the rainbow is a little janky, and the ground is very weird.

Travalon took some good shots with his camera, using different settings.

How about a sepia-toned rainbow? It looks like it's from the nineteenth century!

And I have no idea what this effect is, but it's interesting.

So there you have it - enough rainbow pictures to tide you over until the next storm.

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Bad Catholics

Last night while Travalon and I were out on our dock, we saw a young duck (or goose) swimming around by itself. It was not a tiny baby, but it was still fuzzy, and I felt so bad for it. Where was the rest of its family? Waterfowl are usually so protective of their offspring. This bird looked big enough to survive on its own, but I wondered if it was scared and lonely. It just seemed so sad.

As I have said before, I am a Bad Catholic, with my interest in astrology, penchant for hip hop music full of naughty words, and belief in reincarnation that I can’t seem to shake. Lately, however, I don’t feel so guilty about it. It seems like there are a number of people who think they are The Very Best Catholics who, for example, don’t see any problem with putting immigrant children in cages. This seems to go directly against the preaching of Jesus, like when he tells a story about the goats and they say, “When did we see you a stranger and not welcome you?” As someone online wondered, “How many of these children are named Jesus?” and others responded, “All of them!” I am afraid of being a goat myself (as I am a Capricorn), but Jesus didn’t actually have any statements on bad music or even reincarnation. However, he really hammered on how we are supposed to treat those who are at our mercy because of poverty, handicaps, or maybe just being an immigrant child separated from her parents. So really, who isn’t a Bad Catholic when the Very Best Catholics actually seem to be worst of all?

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Why Are Creepy Places Creepy?

Here are a couple of things from this past weekend that I neglected to mention in my previous post:

On Saturday when we were in Milwaukee, we lost the satellite radio station (“Soul Town”), so I switched to the local hip hop station. Travalon noted with some surprise that the music, while still not his taste, was much better than the music our local “hip hop” station plays. I said that was because the Milwaukee station plays true hip hop, while our local station plays a lot of terrible pop music masquerading as hip hop, such as Post Malone. Maybe this is because in Milwaukee they figure there is a big enough fan base for true hip hop, while here in Madison the main market for their station is a bunch of wealthy white teens.

On Sunday Travalon stumbled across a documentary featuring Michael Palin of Monty Python fame traveling to North Korea. I was very curious, so I watched it with him. The people seemed very normal, just people going about their day, but the place seemed really creepy. The thing that weirded me out most of all was how in Pyongyang music started playing downtown at 5 am and played for several hours. You could hear it out Palin’s hotel window, and it was loud. I was trying to describe this last night to Rich and Luxuli before choir practice, and it was hard to say what exactly was so creepy. The music was aesthetically pleasing, a very Oriental-sounding tune that was instrumental but apparently had words about how great the Dear Leader is. I said the only other places that had creeped me out so much were the Temple Square in Salt Lake City, and the whole city of Seattle. So… I am going out on a limb here, but maybe what creeps me out so much is anything where someone other than God is being worshiped. In North Korea, it’s the memory of the Dear Leader. I am not sure what to say it is in Salt Lake City, but I will note that I had the opposite reaction to mosques in Istanbul, for what that’s worth. And in Seattle, it could be that they worship the individual. It seems like a place lacking in any concept of the transcendent.

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Cocktail Plan

Sorry that I didn’t blog yesterday – I was going to post some pictures but never got around to it. Monday evening Travalon and I took Rodney for a walk along the Yahara, seeing lots of what Prairie Man tells us is wild indigo. The river was really beautiful in the waning light. Then we went to the Nau-Ti-Gal because Travalon wants to try all their cocktails, and he has a plan: one cocktail each Monday night. There are exactly as many on the menu as there are Mondays left in the summer. We sat on their back patio with Rodney, but it was loud because apparently there was a private party going on, with a keg, and they were playing rap music that was even too hardcore for me. Or maybe it just wasn’t good hardcore rap; I don’t like Tupac Shakur because of all his swearing, but in spite of it because he’s got such mad rhyming skills.

Last night Travalon and I went to Liliana’s for their special menu: the theme was strawberries this week. Actually, Travalon got the catfish, which is his favorite thing on the menu. I made the mistake of getting the matching flight of wine too, which was way more wine than I needed. The first course was a pecan and strawberry salad with a pinot grigio. The second course was tilapia with grilled asparagus, herb mashed potatoes, and strawberry chutney, paired with a merlot. The dessert (which I split with Travalon, since I was stuffed by then) was grilled pound cake with whipped cream and strawberries, paired with a brut champagne. Good thing Travalon was driving, because I was pretty tipsy after that, even though the waiter had assured me that the wine servings were very small, not standard size. Anyway, everything was really good.

Today as I was taking my usual rosary walk at lunchtime, I went a different route and felt weirdly unwelcome. It started with a chained-up dog who barked ferociously at me as I passed by, then a squirrel practically ran into me, and then when I passed some bushes, several birds chirped loudly and then flew out at me. It was the strangest thing – I don’t usually disturb animals with my mere presence. Why today?  

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Going Grammando

Last night I went to a very interesting talk on “language pet peeves” given by a professor of Linguistics from another school. She did not mention one of my big pet peeves, which is people using i.e. when they really should use e.g., but “ironically” and “literally” being used “wrong” came up, as well as the singular use of “they/their” and the incorrect use of “its/it’s.” To my surprise, these usages (linguists do not call them “mistakes” like English teachers do) are actually quite old and not something that the Millennials invented. The speaker suggested not going “grammando” on people who use “literally” when they mean “figuratively,” but just giggling to ourselves at the mental image of their heads “literally exploding” or whatever wonderful image we get from their statements. I do have to admit that I am guilty of asking people, “What’s ironic about that?” when they use “ironically” to mean “coincidentally” or even just as conversational filler. From now on I will try to refrain from going grammando on people. After all, if we understand what they are saying, there is no need to comment on their linguistic choices. Leave it to the English teachers of the world to attempt to teach people “proper” English, if there even is such a thing.

Speaking of language, today as I was listening to my Irish CD, the lesson was sports, and it got me thinking about how I used to be such a tennis fan. I used to play tennis a lot, although – and I can’t emphasize this enough – I was terrible at it, and I used to watch it on TV. In some of my novels, my characters played it. What happened? I kept losing tennis partners, it is true, and I still enjoy watching people who are good, like when Tiffy and I stayed with a couple from my choir in Estes Park, and we watched them playing with their friends. Maybe it finally dawned on me that I will really never be any good at tennis, and so I moved on to other pursuits. I’m not even 100% sure where my racket is, but it dates from the late 80’s so I’d probably get laughed off the courts if I showed up with that old thing. Just to show you how much tennis has dropped off my radar, there are only five posts on this blog that mention it (besides this one), and two are just about how Travalon’s phone changed my name to “Famous Table Tennis” while one is about tennis shoes. Hmm… maybe I should add tennis to my life in my pursuit of fitness. It couldn’t hurt! First I’d have to find a partner… Travalon always laughs about how I said in high school I used to play with one friend so much that I “almost didn’t suck.” Perhaps I could reach those heights once again.

And continuing on the language topic, today I am listening to my Pandora station that is supposed to play R&B, but it has morphed into a classic hip hop station. I didn’t really mind, since I love Tupak Shakur and the Notorious B.I.G., but suddenly it occurred to me that I was listening to music full of very bad words at work. Oops! Fortunately, nobody seems to have noticed.

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Hoetry

Today my besty Tiffy and I went to a mead-tasting event to raise money for the local early music festival, and of course early music always make me think of hip hop so I was quoting Ludacris and Usher and Pitbull. I said that was some of their poetry, but Tiffy thought I said "hoetry," which inspired us to create the following hip hop song. The video stars Siddhartha, the Turtle of Enlightenment, who really has nothing to do with the song. Here are the lyrics:

She got ten-inch heels and a twelve-inch skirt,

All the G's in the place was lookin' at her.

She got legs that don't quit and morals that don't start,

And I think Shorty went and stole my heart.

Hoetry! Hoetry! That's what she's got!

She got the love potion,

She's hoetry in motion,

When she walks, her booty rock like the ocean.

Hoetry! Hoetry! That's what she's got!

She ain't no hoe, she's so much moe,

She's hoetry in motion.

Hoetry! Hoetry! That's what she's got!

Since this song is clearly from a male's perspective, we recorded our voices on the low setting. Also, we didn't know that the urban definition of the word "hoetry" was "the art of pimping" until we had already wasted two hours creating our song and video.

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MC Hat: Word to Yoe Brim

At long last, here is my hip hop song "Word to Yoe Brim," recorded on Garage Band. The video was recorded on iMovie and Photo Booth, and I really did steal the bass line from Buxtehude - it's the first few notes of his Christmas cantata "Das Neugeborne Kindelein." Here are the words:

To the H, to the A, to the T, that's me:

I'm fresh MC, and my flow is free!

All these haters wish I'd blow away,

But I'm here to stay, and this is what I say:

No way, no way, no way (x3)

Oh no, can't stop my flow!

I ain't frontin', got a brim so wide,

All you haters better step aside!

You can't keep the sun off anyone's face,

So don't step up to me or I'll put you in your place!

I own my own penthouse and you can't pay yoe rent.

I'm just intonation and yoe equal temperament.

I'm hotter than Venus, more enlightened than Buddha,

And I stole this bass line from Buxtehude!

(chorus)

I bathe in champagne 'cuz I'm such a hottie.

I drove my monster truck over my spare Bugatti.

Yo! Word to yoe brim, 'cuz this hat's so fly,

That my flow ain't never gonna die!

(chorus)

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A (Hypothetical) Li'l Joint

My plant Dracaena Marginata (aka "Keith") is at it again - now it's bored and lonely, being the only plant in my office, and it is writing letters to hip hop artists. (I was the one who first imagined this collaboration, but Toque was the one who suggested Keith write the artists in question a letter.) Since the President is much easier to reach than the average hip hop artist, it has not actually sent this letter yet, but it would appreciate anyone who knows Li'l Jon or Li'l Wayne forwarding this on to them.

Dear Li'l Jon/Wayne,

I may just be a humble houseplant, but I am a huge fan of both of you, and I can’t help noticing that Li'l “Pottymouth” Wayne is in every hip hop song and Li'l “Dr. Teeth” Jon is in all the other hip hop songs. I feel it is time you combine your instantly recognizable li'l voices in what could roughly be called “harmony” and record a song together. I imagine it might sound something like this, after the radio sensors have bleeped out the naughty parts.

LW: Shawty got a Coke bottle figure
LJ: OH YEAH!!!
LW: Shawty say that I her favorite nurp urp*
LJ: YEEAAAHH!!!
LW: Shawty say that I a low slob
LJ: YEAH LADIES!!!
LW: Shawty give me a blurp jurp+
LJ: SHAKE YOE BOOTY!!!
LW: Shawty wanna go down to China
LJ: COME ON!!!
LW: I wanna exploe her vurp urp@
LJ: OHHHH YEAHH!!!
LW: Shawty think that I a trucker
LJ: SHAKE IT, LADIES!!!
LW: But I a real murp furp#
LJ: YEEAAHHH!!!

Adults, feel free to look below to see what the censors bleeped out. Kids, don’t look!

* nitrogen user
+ botany journal
@ venation
# monocot flora

I hope this gives you some inspiration for this epic li'l collaboration.

Sincerely,
Dracaena Marginata

Unfortunately, Keith would have even more trouble suggesting a "Big Joint" than a "Li'l Joint," because while it may be hard to reach living hip hop artists, I cannot imagine it would have any luck sending a letter to Big Pun and Notorious B.I.G. (dona eis requiem) suggesting they collaborate. Still, imagine how cool that would be! It could be called "Still Not a Hypnotized Playa."

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Wasp Wars: The Battle of WD40

This weekend I drove to the East Coast of this state for the continuation of Tiffy's birthweek celebration. Friday night we had sushi, and for her Birthday Dinner Part II on Saturday night we went to a steak place, and my filet mignon was so rare it was practically still chewing its cud. That's more raw meat than I've eaten in eons! (Then again, I'm not generally much of a meat eater.) We made up for it at lunchtime on Saturday: Soul Food! Deep fried catfish, deep fried okra, deep fried sweet potato fries, and healthy collard greens... with tons of salt and fatback! Oh yeah! Tiffy had to go to Pittsburgh for an audit today ("Hey," she said, "at least it's not New Jersey!") so I drove home late last night. I could get the blazin' hip hop station from the closest big city, and DJ O was playing an old school mix that was hip hop heaven!

DJ O, I don't know you, but I have only one thing to say to you: Shorty wanna roll in yoe ride wid dat ice cream paint job.

Today Richard Bonomo, Kathbert, Antoshka and I went for a hike, and on the way back Kathbert told me a hip hop story: she was walking down the street when a young black guy drove by in a car going "boom." A white woman was standing on the other side of the street with her baby girl, and the little girl was bouncing up and down to the beat. The guy looked at Kathbert and said, "Dat baby be jivin'!"

Then Rich came to my house and unleashed some WD40 in the yellow jackets' nest while I sprayed them with bug poison. There was one casualty on our side (Rich got stung on the finger) and I saw four or five wasps drowned in the bleached sugar water, but the other wasps didn't seem any worse for wear. They flew around in a big, angry swarm, and we ran back inside and watched them from behind the safety of the screen door, but alas, they did not suddenly fall out of the air. Rich said it would take awhile for the poison to affect them, so right now I am at his house blogging. We'll see if this was the final, decisive battle or just the start of the war....

Good news for Arphaxad: both my faithful readers have weighed in and want to hear more of her story, so I will be letting her blog every Friday until either she gets sick of it, or you do.

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