Scooped

First of all, Happy St. Patrick’s Day to all. I know the Irish probably look upon us American upstarts as totally bastardrizing one of their most important celebrations. On the other hand it does involve a lot of drinking so maybe not. I still remember one of the only reasons to get up in college before 7am was St Patty’s Day where we would rush down to Scorpio’s Pub to consume mass quantities of pre-dawn green beer. Trust me, it made sense at the time and led to photos most of us are still trying to live down. I have a St Patty’s day tie that I’m allowed to wear once a year although it took some searching last night to find the green shirt. My wife has an arcane system of clothes storage that led me on a true scavenger hunt. I found it in the third closet searched.

Work Clothes Today

I did a lot of other running around yesterday as well. One of my less than pleasant tasks is the daily policing of the back yard to remove evidence of Buddy the Wonder Pooch’s intestinal processes. That work has always been easy because of the redoubtable pooper scooper which dates back to his predecessor dogs, over ten years ago. One of Buddy’s donations was the final straw in the lifespan of that renowned instrument. It’s a helpless feeling to be standing in a yard without the appropriate tools to accomplish what needed to be done. We’re so close to the neighbors now (and they’re the best neighbors imaginable) that I don’t like to leave the piles there for easy viewing out their kitchen window.

The Old (l) and New

I used part of my lunch hour to rush around trying to find a replacement. I went to Walmart because, well, Walmart has everything, right; except for pooper scoopers. I eventually traveled all the way to Auburn and the PetSmart store to locate one. It even met with Buddy’s approval later in the day after an extensive sniffing down. The technology has certainly evolved since my last purchase, Americans and their dogs.

R.I.P. Trooper Clardy, Thank you for Your Servcie

While I was travelling to Auburn I heard on the radio about a serious crash on the Mass Pike. Shortly thereafter I was amazed at the sheer number of State Police cars, almost a convoy’s worth, rushing towards Worcester. I later learned they were rushing one of their own, Trooper Thomas Clardy, was killed in the accident. A father of six and former Marine we should all honor his memory and service.

Party Time, Son and ABFA in the Back

In decidedly more cheerful news, reports are starting to leak out about the ABFA and Favorite Son’s week on the high seas. I assume they’ve cruised back within internet range because photos are emerging. The cruise was a prize from the fitness company the ABFA works for and the first few photos showed the ABFA working out on the deck of the ship with my son nowhere in evidence. Later photos showed a late night party where he re-appeared. He seems to have bred true.

Oh Yeah!

My granddaughter has passed the stately age of eighteen weeks yesterday and celebrated in attire purchased by her grandfather, yours truly, during my November visit to L.A. That the attire originated at the brewery the Wingman escorted me to refers back to the last sentence of the preceding paragraph. It contains a statement of origin on the back that is certainly true.

I Have it on Good Authority

I’m almost ashamed to admit that I went to see The Brothers Grimsby last night. I’m certainly ashamed to admit that I laughed for almost the entire length of the movie. Cohen does that to you, he goes lower than even the most modest standards and can make you laugh out loud while cringing at the same time. It isn’t low brow, it’s subterranean brow and it is funny. I’m sure some of the very British jokes eluded me. Cohen plays a clueless British soccer buffoon who reunites with a long lost brother, played by the always awesome Mark Strong, who’s a 007 like spy. I was a little troubled by Cohen’s seeming over focus on anal cavities but with Cohen you forgive a lot. If you’re comfortable leaving the preening umbrella of political correctness behind, go see this and I guarantee you’ll laugh; just never admit to it in front of progressive friends.