The Dog Convention

1 07 2018

Recently, my good friend, Bobby Long, posted the following poem on Facebook and I felt compelled to write a follow-up to give the story a proper ending.


The Dog Convention

There was a Great Dog Convention.

They came from near and far.

Some came on bicycles,

And some came in cars.


Y’know, before they could enter

Or even take a look,

They had to take their butts off

And hang it on a hook.


But before they even got seated,

(every mother, pup and sire),

An old dog hollered from the back,

“Run for your life. It’s a FIRE!”


The crowd of dogs began to panic

And nobody stopped to look,

They grabbed the very nearest butt

From the very nearest hook.


And this is why, even today,

A dog will drop a bone,

To sniff another dog’s butt,

To see if it’s his own.

(Author unknown)


As Paul Harvey would say, “And now for the rest of the story.”


It was the second annual dog convention

And every dog had come

The air was filled with apprehension

For each had another’s bum


For it was only in the year before

Old Rex, the cock-a-poo

Had everyone running for the door

And pulled the great switcheroo


So, all the dogs that came that day

Were hoping to acquire,

The same butt that they had last year

Before the bogus fire.


They came, they sniffed, they searched about

But not a dog could find,

The old butt that they longed to have

Their own long-lost behind


So, finally they all took a vote

And passed a proclamation

Each hoping that this edict would spread

Throughout the doggie nation.


For it seems that they could all agree

This sniffing ain’t so bad;

As, it gave each dog a chance to see

A butt they never had.


So, this is how it’s going to be

From now to kingdom come

All dogs running around with glee

To sniff each other’s bum.

(author: Bill Taylor)


God is not a Sunday Morning God!

24 06 2018

II Chronicles  7:14- “If my children , who are called by my name, will humble themselves and Pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from Heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” 


My wife and I raised three sons-three great sons. As children, our sons were a joy. Even as toddlers, we could take them anywhere without fear of tantrums, outbursts or conniptions. We played Lego, sports and ran through the house shooting Nerf guns at each other. We vacationed and, in general spent quality time together as a family.


Not to say they were perfect. They would misbehave and we would parent. They would hurt and we would hurt. They sought advice and we always cherished the opportunity to pass on a bit of wisdom. Our sons always made us so proud and I thank God every day in my quiet time for allowing me to be their father. They are, and have always been, thoughtful, loving and grateful. And although each has grown and moved out to raise their own families, hardly a day goes by that I wouldn’t like to see, or at least speak with, my sons.


The Father Loves His Children

I believe God, our Father, is much like any other father. I believe He wants to see, or at least speak with, His children every day; yet, so many of His children see Him only as a God to keep in their back pocket to be pulled out as needed, like a fire extinguisher.


God is not a God of convenience whom we can call upon only when we are in trouble.


God is not a God of opportunity whom we call on only when there is something we want.


God is not a God of spectacle whom we visit only on Sunday mornings to demonstrate to others how “religious” we are.


Whether we realize it or not, God is in our lives 24-7. What does He ask in return?

  • “…humble themselves…”
  • “…pray and seek My face…”
  • “…turn from their wicked ways…”


Humble themselves: Realize and accept that no matter what you experience, no matter what you achieve, no matter how successful you may be, God is greater. God is omnipresent. There is nowhere He isn’t. After all, He made every corner of the universe. He is all-powerful. There isn’t anything He cannot do. He loves us with a love that cannot be measured. How can we be anything but humble when we come before the Lord?


Pray and seek My face: Take just a few minutes…two minutes each day to speak with God. Pray. Thank Him for all you have and the many ways in which you have been blessed. Spend five minutes reading Scripture and thinking about what you read.


Turn from your wicked ways: “No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon.” (KJV) None of us is perfect, or ever can be, regardless of how hard we try. We can’t love a sinful world and still love God. If we want to please God, we must deny sinful temptations and turn to God.


God wants to share time with you. He wants to hear your voice. Make Him a part of your life every single day. Spend a little time speaking with Him and listening. It’s a dialogue and not a monologue. Enjoy the moments and let Him enrich your life.

Never Turn Your Back on an Imp!

20 06 2018

It was a year ago, almost to the day, I introduced you to my one and only grandson, Cody. The story (posted July

If you didn’t want me to bite it, you shouldn’t have left it where I can reach it.

2, 2017), you may recall, was to tell you about his pronouncement to the family, he had reached two-hood by climbing up the outside of the staircase at home. Moreover, the post was to expound on his perfection of boyhood as he is, still, the quintessential boy. No doubt, if you look up “boy” in Wiki or any other pedia, you’ll see Cody’s picture. Well, I guess, as he approaches his third birthday, he decided he wanted to say good-bye to two in proper fashion.


This past week, while at daycare, the ever-rambunctious Cody apparently became curious about the wall-mounted fire alarm and decided to give it a pull. Bells rang, teachers scurried, toddlers screamed, the building evacuated, and the fire department arrived to handle the “emergency!!” And, before he even gets into elementary school, Cody found himself in the principal’s office getting the first of what I am sure will be many lectures.


To quote my son in his text, “He’s already filled his resume with things like teaching the whole class how to spit,

Who puts fire alarms in a daycare where a 2-year old can reach them?

making his first girlfriend a preschool teacher, disrupting any serious moment with his class-clown antics, and jumping off a 4-feet [sic] tall playhouse when he was 2 because he said, ‘dats cool daddee.’”


My wife and I remember times when we longed for the day when our sons would get their payback. Well, for one son at least, that day has come…in spades! Sorry, son, but we didn’t mean for you to get a truck load all at once.

Child’s play!

Biker Duck

10 06 2018

In 1995, singer/song-writer/composer, Neil Sedaka wrote his own lyrics which he then put to several pieces from classical masters such as Tchaikovsky, Chopin and Beethoven. So, more recently, I decided to take the classic duck walks into a bar routine and write my own joke but put to poetry. It’s just a little verse that simply popped into my head one day.


A duck walked into a biker bar                                        

And said he’d like a beer.

The bar-keep said, “We don’t serve ducks,

Now waddle out of here.”

So parched and lonely he left the bar

And returned the very next day.

The bar tender told him, “We only serve bikers

You need to go away.”

But never one to be deterred                                                   

The duck returned once more

He gave the bartender his toughest look     

As he waddled through the door.

“Barkeep, a round for the house!”

He yelled with a snarly grin

Then come outside and show me

Where I can park my Schwinn.


My PC Has Gone PC!

27 05 2018

Who could forget this modern marvel?

The personal computer first became available in 1981. At the time, I was the safety director for the City of Durham, North Carolina and as my co-workers were surrendering their IBM Selectric typewriters for new IBM computers and struggling to learn new terminology such as MS-DOS, RAM and floppy, I was doing all within my power to avoid letting anyone put one of those infernal contraptions on my desk. My hope was to be able to complete my working career and reach retirement before this new technology was forced upon me. Of course, that didn’t happen. Technology moved faster than crap through a goose.


Not only was technology trucking along at warp speed, the world was also changing socially. The workplace was no longer accepting of “blue humor,” and rightfully so. The office is not an appropriate venue for off-color jokes or innuendo, particularly in mixed company. Long gone is the pin-up tool calendar hanging in the maintenance manager’s office. And while these are positive changes, somewhere along the way, progressives (see definition below) decided to take it to the extreme and, political correctness was born, and with it, the nation of the offended.


Anti-Ridiculous, Not Anti-Progress

Until recently, I considered myself a rebel. A holdout against political correctness. An advocate for normal speech. By that, I mean, I still use gender-specific terms like freshman, ladies and gentlemen, and husband and wife. I still refer to a dead guy as a dead guy and not a permanently static post-human mass. I still call a lady a lady. And don’t even think of inviting me to speak at your commencement because I will invoke the name of Jesus while on your campus. If someone is deaf, I will say he is deaf. Oh, but then some hyper-sensitive progressive would likely correct me, saying, “He’s hearing impaired.” Excuse me, libiot, Merriam-Webster (FYI-that’s the paper version of Wikipedia.) defines deaf as, “lacking or deficient in the sense of hearing.” He lacks the ability to hear! He’s deaf!


Anyone who uses a computer is familiar with spell-check and auto-correct-those helpful yet annoying features of Microsoft Word that automatically correct our spelling errors or replace the words we want to use with those Microsoft thinks we want to use. Well, recently, I had an experience that I couldn’t believe, although I shouldn’t have been surprised. It was one of those head-smack’n moments when you suddenly realize the absurdity of something and smack your hand against your forehead.


I was using my work computer to write something about confined spaces. I typed in the word “manhole.” Immediately, a red underscore appeared below “manhole” along with a message box. The message was suggesting I use gender-neutral language such as “a utility access hole.” How dare it! A machine telling me to be politically correct! I won’t take that from my mama; I’m certainly not going to take it from a plastic box full of doo-dads and doo-hickeys held together by screws and solder.

This is PC run amok!


As a result, I no longer consider myself a mere rebel. I am now a crusader against political correctness. I suppose it’s only a matter of time before artificial intelligence takes over completely. Hopefully, I’ll be raptured before that happens.


Progressive: a left-leaning loon who goes to extreme measures to shove their own ideology down the throats of normal people. Progressives can usually be found loitering in large clusters at college faculty lounges, newspaper offices and Barbra Streisand film festivals.

I Could Care Less!

20 05 2018

I could care less. That’s not right. Yet, so many people say it that way. The correct term is, I couldn’t care less. To say, I could care less, implies that it is possible for me to care less than I do. It says, I have more care to give. If I’m trying to express the fact that something is of absolutely no concern to me, then I would want folks to understand that I could not (couldn’t) care any less than I already do because my bag of care regarding a given issue is empty. I have no more caring. I couldn’t care less.


Think of it this way. I could not care any less about the royal wedding than I already do. If so then I could care less. But, because I am at the abyss of caring about the royal wedding, it is impossible for me to care any less. Therefore, I couldn’t care less about the royal wedding. I couldn’t care less what the bride was wearing. I couldn’t care less how much was spent on the wedding. I couldn’t care less where everyone sat. I couldn’t care less who was invited. Any questions?

Whoa! That was Weird!

4 05 2018

I’m sure I’m not the only one who has those moments when you realize what just happened and you just say, “Whoa! That was weird!” For example: Major League Baseball fans will remember Dale Murphy, all-star outfielder for the Atlanta Braves back in the 80s. I would turn the channel to TBS to see the Braves game or just come upon it while surfing the channels and every time, without fail, Dale Murphy would be at bat-not Ozzie Virgil; not Rafael Ramirez; not Glenn Hubbard or Bob Horner-but always, Dale Murphy. It was uncanny.


Or, I might see a road sign indicating my exit is three-quarters of a mile away. When I read the sign my immediate thought, as would be most Top Gun fans, is something like, “Call the ball,” or “Maverick has the ball,” both, lines from the movie Top Gun. Then I get to my hotel room, turn the television on and Top Gun is playing on TV.


And, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen or heard something that made me think of a movie I haven’t seen in years only to have that movie show up on television within the next few minutes or hours. Or like last night when I was mixing up a marinade, I yelled to my wife in the other room, as I stood befuddled in front of the open refrigerator, “Do we have any soy sauce?” At the exact same moment, I said soy sauce, I heard it on television. It was if I were lip-syncing the words.

he ball,

One recent Saturday morning, I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, as always, with a song in my head. It was one of those songs that you just can’t get rid of and keeps playing over and over in your head until you feel it’s going to drive you crazy. In the shower, it played. Cooking breakfast, it played. While I ate, it played. All morning long, it kept playing. I tried to recall if I had heard the song recently but, it being an old country song from 1973, I could not recall when I even had an opportunity to hear it. So, I jumped into the car to make my regular Saturday morning grocery store run and when I started the car and turned on the radio, that song was playing-not just playing but it picked up at the same place in the song in which it was playing inside my head! It was as if my head had been tuned into Sirius. I sat for a moment and thought, “Whoa! That’s weird!”

Anything like this ever happen to you? Tell me about your weird experiences.