Happy Lupercalia! Which is So Appropriate Because…

wolf- lupercalia

Roadkill: It’s What’s for Dinner!

Valentine’s Day as a holiday has always sort of given me the creeps.  It’s named after a Christian martyr who according to legend was killed by having his heart cut out.  So we make nice little chocolates and cookies with hearts on them to commemorate this why?  As far as celebrating holidays that have bizarre origins, it would be more fun to commemorate Bastille Day with scale model guillotines and flying Dennis Rodman doll  action figure heads, but I’m weird that way.

dennis rodman

The doll action figure came with two heads.

Valentine’s Day wasn’t always Valentine’s day.  It actually began as a co-opting of a popular pagan holiday that was celebrated around the middle of February- Lupercalia.  Basically it was “The Wolf Festival.”  Along with a lot of drinking and fertility rites, that is.  What makes this different from The-Game-We-Cannot-Name Sunday or any other redneck beer drinking holiday, except that even rednecks frown upon animal sacrifice?  Perhaps the main distinction is that in redneck fornication, procreation generally is not the primary goal.  Hence the importance of the Trojan Man.

trojan man

Because this is all that stands between you and 18+ years of child support.

I don’t believe in romantic love.  Not one bit.  If Jerry buys me something it’s usually because it’s something he wants.  The last thing he bought me was a Stoeger Condor Competition 20 gauge over/under shotgun.  It is a sweet shotgun, but I think he enjoys shooting it (and bragging to the guys at the club what a great deal he got on it) more than I do.  Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate a good shotgun, but it’s not exactly the gift that screams “hot teenage lust.”  Not that “hot teenage lust” was ever on my agenda to begin with.

A holiday for dogs, on the other hand, isn’t a bad idea.  The interesting thing about a “wolf festival” is that dogs are wolves.  Literally.

Grey wolf taxonomic classification: Canis lupus lupus

Domestic dog (all breeds): Canis lupus familiaris

doggie daycare

All the same species as the grey wolf.  Even the ankle biters.

I’ve also said it before that since dogs are a subspecies of wolf, it’s imperative to respect that.   If dogs are improperly treated and/or we humans don’t pay attention to their signals and body language, they can be deadly.  Correctly handled and respected, they can become amazing companions, protectors and friends.  I trust my dogs more than people, and with good reason.

bag of trouble

Not to mention AIDS, chlamydia, genital warts and herpes!

The only thing that disturbs me about those old-time VD warnings is that they always showed women as being carriers of VD.  Dudes spread it too.  How do you think the women got it?

I always thought Valentine’s Day, with all the insinuation of love being in the air, as a perfect opportunity to warn against Venereal Disease.  Here’s a little song from 1969, just in case anyone needs some VD awareness.  It’s called “VD is for Everybody” and has a cute little video that goes with it.  Just doing my duty to further public health.

Speaking of public health, as I was trolling along, I found another holiday worth celebrating:

world rabies day

I have some questions about Rabies Day.

1. Is this about getting rabies?  If so, this could be a very painful and drawn out form of population control.  I can think of much easier ways to “cull the herd,” such as leaving the stupid to their own devices, to earn their Darwin Awards without any interference from others.

2. Is this about getting rabies shots and/or preventing rabies?  I can stand behind that.  I definitely don’t want to get the rabies.

I don’t want to get the cholera either:

cholera

“Beware of Drunkenness- nothing is so likely to bring on Disease.”  Amazing.  Public health authorities knew this back in the 1830’s, that being drunk  and dirty could bring on disease.  I would like to know where you find hot lime, though.

I think there should be more public campaigns to advocate personal hygiene and cleanliness.  It seems that being clean and well groomed is more of an exception than a rule, and then you wonder why you’re surrounded with the hacking, coughing, chronically ill masses.

Of course, as more and more of the people in this country are growing up raised by wolves, what can one expect?

raisedbywolves

Raised by Wolves, Culture Shock, and How to Avoid Criticism

Steve-o can partially be excused for his puerile behavior due to his age.  When you’re a 19 year old kid it’s funny to flip off the camera and moon people, especially blood relatives.  I don’t have too much problem with it when it’s all in fun.

But when you’re almost 54 and still partying like it’s 1975, it’s time to get a clue.  It’s not funny any more when you’re of the Geritol set but still think you can drink a twelve pack a night and blare the stereo.  Yes I have the noise canceling headphones and have been enjoying some 80’s Robert Plant, REM, Journey and other aesthetically pleasing music.  Otherwise I’d have to throttle the old goat.

I know Jerry was raised by wolves (my in-laws came from deep in the hollers of rural WV and have about a fourth grade education between them) and I am no authority on Appalachian culture or the lack thereof, but come on.  Just because your parents grew up having to share a double bed with sixteen of their siblings and/or cousins (let’s hope that there was a bit of diversity in that gene pool) does not mean you necessarily have to become a crude and rude beer swilling, loud music blaring deviant.

I tried to be a good mother.  I know, I failed.  But Steve-o does have an expansive vocabulary when he chooses to communicate with verbal or written language instead of the extended middle finger.  I did something right, I think.

Today I heard a wonderful little axiom that was music to my ears, especially when everyone is so overloaded with so much politically correct touchy-feely mind-numbing swill these days.

How to Avoid Criticism:

Say Nothing.  Do Nothing.  Be Nothing.

Dad’s bit of wisdom on these lines is a similar sentiment, though a bit more pragmatic.

If you aren’t screwing up, you aren’t doing anything.

Well, let’s see.  I get a lot of criticism so I must be saying and doing something.  I screw up a lot too, so if nothing else, I’m busy.

This is a pic of Steve-o when he was a week old.  He weighed over 10# and looked like he was at least three months old.  That was the first and last time he ever wore that outfit.  A word to the wise- when buying baby shower gifts, a few people should bypass the newborn to 12 month sizes (this was a six month outfit and he only fit into it once) and get some of the larger sizes in case the poor woman gives birth to a behemoth child who will never wear newborn sizes.  Just a thought.

Oh, can I wring his fool drunken neck yet…pass out already I’d like to go to bed.

A Cynic’s Contrition (Sort of,) Taco Tuesdays, and Dysfunction can be Fun!

Perhaps I should forgive Jerry his utter lack of appreciation, consideration and/or common human decency.  He was raised by wolves after all. Ten minutes with the in-laws is all it takes to see just how true this is.  This is how Jerry’s mother typically greets him:

“Where you been, asshole? You got my money?”

‘Nuff said.

His mother is actually the most compassionate one of the entire horde.  His dad is a tightwad to a fault and is 100% devoid of warmth or compassion (never trust anyone who hates dogs!)  I do find it funny that he will only go to Taco Bell on Tuesdays because that’s Senior Discount day.  Apparently 89 cents for a taco is just too much without getting that extra 10% discount.  I would rather fix my own tacos at home so I know what’s in them.  Then again I don’t eat out much.

I don’t trust any of his sisters any further than I could throw the largest of the three, who is probably 4’8″ and 220#- since she lost all that weight. (Seriously!)   In some ways I do feel sorry for him and his rather frightening upbringing, even though as the “precious only male child” he was the recipient of many special perks, such as his own room, special meals (his mom thought he was “too skinny”) and new clothes.

I know too many couples who have kept on trying to have kids until they end up with that “precious only male child.”  I work with one guy who pretty much ignores his daughters and dotes incessantly on the bratty son because he thinks the kid is going to be some kind of amazing sports prodigy.  I am far more realistic with my own son. I simply hope that someday he is gainfully employed and self supporting and that he stays out of jail.

My parents gave up on that “precious only male child dream” once I was born.  I don’t blame them.  Three kids are way too many.  One is more than enough, trust me.  I’m sorry for them that they ended up with all daughters.  Hell, if I knew better- even though I got the “precious only male child” on the first try, I’d forgone childbearing altogether and stuck with dogs.  They cost a lot less than kids and don’t get smart mouthed with you.


Any time is a good time to insert gratuitous pics of the illustrious, and beautiful, Clara. Belgian Malinois rule. Clara is likely a crossbreed between a Malinois and a German Shepherd, (she is a rescued dog after all) but she has the primary characteristics of a Malinois.  Excellent, intelligent, wonderful dogs.

As far as dysfunctional upbringings go, my parents (as well as my sisters and the kids at school) beat me too.  That was normal in the 60’s and 70’s.  Get over it and move on already.  Try to find the humor in it.  It’s the only way I stay relatively functional and sane.  I don’t expect anyone to feel sorry for me because I was raised in a rather screwed up way.  I do admit Jerry’s family was probably worse than mine (his parents have about a fourth grade education between them, and a good deal of their sorry parenting was due to ignorance) but not that much worse.

How many kids today can say they’ve survived being tossed head first into garbage cans, being chased around a classroom by a crazed pervert as he’s chanting, “titty, titty, titty,” and living through the divers and sadistic tortures of one’s evil siblings?

Apparently there are people out there with far worse upbringings than either mine or Jerry’s!