Harriet has long contended that squirrels are eeevil, that they should be exterminated, and that she’d ought to be the one doing the exterminating. Now, we have proof that her concerns were well founded.
Squirrels have bitten to death a stray dog which was barking at them in a Russian park, local media report.
Passers-by were too late to stop the attack by the black squirrels in a village in the far east, which reportedly lasted about a minute.
They are said to have scampered off at the sight of humans, some carrying pieces of flesh.
A pine cone shortage may have led the squirrels to seek other food sources, although scientists are sceptical.
Via Feministe: A play in one act, in which a professor entered his office, to find that two students had broken in and were having sex. Now, the story is plenty damned funny on its own, especially this bit, wherein the trespassing male tells the prof to go away and threatens to report him for sexual harassment.
HALF-NAKED MALE: GO THE FUCK AWAY! THIS IS PRIVATE! WE’RE BUSY!
ME: (holding the door half-open) I’m coming in.
HALF-NAKED MALE: STOP HARASSING US YOU PERVERT OR I’LL REPORT YOU!
ME: (still holding door) You’ll report me for your having sex in my office?
HALF-NAKED MALE: GO THE FUCK AWAY!
ME: (still holding door) That’s it. Put your clothes back on. You can’t have sex in my office.
The comments, too, are worth reading. However, I found myself thinking the entire event would have been even more amusing if the prof had quietly entered the office, sat down, and gone about his regular work, ignoring the burgling shaggers.
Via The Smirking Chimp, a rant about Bill O’Reilly and the “war on [White] Christmas”. Because, after all, it is the season. It includes the following gem, on Christmas balls Holiday ornaments:
Speaking of buying, I have a problem with your online shop there, Bill. Yeah, yeah — I hate to interrupt a good misguided rant, but I’m disappointed in you guys at Fox News and the O’Reilly Factor. Being as I’m holding out hope that Christmas won’t be stolen by the liberal Whos of Evil-doer-Whoville (you can use that one, too), I went to the online Fox News Shop to buy some of your balls. But what’s this? I couldn’t find a single Christmas ball in the store! They’d been replaced by these bizarre spheres called “Holiday Ornaments.” The description under the The O’Reilly Factor ornaments claim they’re designed to adorn something called a “holiday tree.” What is this so-called holiday tree? I know what is a Christmas tree, but this holiday tree thing has me stymied. Do I need to buy a second tree? What’s the deal?
Ah, I do so love the smell of hot, buttered irony in the morning.
I’ve mentioned that I watch Survivor, haven’t I? Last night’s episode was lovely, because Judd was finally voted off (hallelujah!). Even lovelier was his reaction. After a speech, in which he claimed that no one was safe, that anyone could be voted off at any time, and that there should be no whineypantsing about it, because it’s a game, stupid, Judd turned around and cursed his tribemates for having the nerve to give him a boot to the head. What an ass!
Speaking of people who need a boot to the head, Oprah gets on my very last nerve. When she’s not busy leading her cult members in I Love Oprah fests, she’s telling women that they should submit themselves to the patriarchy. Most recently, this patriarchifilia has taken the form of touting a new and apparently mediocre form of plastic surgery, called a “thread lift.” Small barbed, plastic threads are inserted under the skin. The barbs catch and hold the tissue, so that it can be pulled tight. Apparently, one can have this relatively inexpensive and speedy procedure done during one’s lunch hour. Because, you know, women ought to have bits of plastic stitched into their faces, so that they can look more babe-uh-licious. Or something. No matter that the procedure can potentially do more harm than good. I dunno about y’all, but I don’t think pain and deformation sound very sexy.
And, don’t even get me started on her magazine. Talk about a heaping helping of harmful messages.
And now for the obligatory Friday dogblogging, starring everyone’s favorite Boxer, Miss Harriet Brown. This was taken last Saturday, in my mom’s kitchen. Harriet is such a delicate flower that she insists she can’t lie on the bare, hard floor. She’d rather have a nice, fluffy dog bed, but a rag rug will suffice in a pinch. It’s not like there wasn’t a comfy couch for her to sleep on, either. There was, and it was even heaped with pillows and blankets and all manner of soft, cushy things amongst which dainty Boxer dogs might wish to lie. But, no. We were sitting around the kitchen table, drinking coffee and talking, so Harriet had to be in the kitchen with us. To supervise, dontchaknow. That’s onna count of the fact that humans cannot be trusted on their own. This is apparently a sacrament that every Boxer dog holds dear.
And now, a rumpus of random ramblings:
- Whispering–I can’t stand it. All that pst pst psting drives me batshit crazy.
- Obsessive throat clearing–I can’t stand that, either. It’s one thing to periodically clear your throat, or to do so more frequently when you’re sick, but when you make disgusting horky noises every two minutes, that’s socially unacceptable.
- Did you realize that you can rearrange the order of tabs in Firefox, by grabbing and moving them? “The more you know…”
- Overheard at work: “How long have we had MS Office?” Um, how long have you worked here?
- I hate it when people ask for information, then don’t pay attention to the answer! Surely there’s a special place in Hell for such time wasters?
- I spilled something on my shirt this morning, and didn’t notice it until I got to work, so I turned it around so the stain wouldn’t bother me.
- While watching teevee last night, and petting the dog, I noticed that she’s getting white patches of hair inside her ears. Her muzzle started to go grey years ago, which is common in Boxers, but damn, 6.5 is too young to be going grey.
- I have to work on Saturday. Waaah!
red paper boat 
