Happy Halloween!

There's a Spider on Your Back!!! Boo!!

Enjoy yourselves, kiddies!

Me? I'm off to see Spamalot! with the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on!! strapped to my neck and the lovely and aptly named sexynerdgirl on my arm.

Should be fun!

Oh, and only sporadic posts until Monday. I take my Halloween celebration seriously, you know...

Scoobies!

I just made that up! It's a headline combo of "Scabs" and "Boobies." Yep. Let's start with the scabs...

One of my dogs has had a weird skin injury that has been bothering her for a few days. Right on the top of her back, towards the butt end. A big pussy (Hi, Googlers!), scabby round abrasion. Nothing I haven't dealt with before (I thought) So, I've been tending to it, clipping the hair around it, rubbing on the first-aid cream and whatnot and keeping her from licking it as much as I can. In spite of that, it's started to spread, so this morning I did a doggie doctor web search and found an exact match.

My dog has ringworm. Fan-flippin'-tastic.

Ringworm, in case you didn't know, is not a worm, but a fungus that infects skin. Nothing too serious - a decent fungal cream will take care of it in a few MONTHS, but its spores are airborne, and it is communicable. Even to humans.

So, in addition to buying a new air filter and treating the doggie with several new creams, I'm having to wash everything daily to keep it from spreading to the other dog. And to me. And keep in mind that I've rubbed my unprotected fingers over this sucker for a few days now, not knowing what it was. As soon as I found out, I hit the shower scrubbing like a rape victim. *sigh*

The next few months are going to consist of constant housecleaning and daily laundry. Dangit.

Well, enough with the Scabs... bring on the Boobies!

Ahh.... I feel better...

No, I'm not ashamed. I'm giggling, if you must know.

Successfully Rescu.... err.. Back from Camping!

Yay! I'm back! And boy, was that exhausting! Me and the doggies had a great time (although Deliah's really hurting now ... more on that in a bit), saw some lovely sights, played many games (The new WoW card game is actually quite fun), ate quite well, and drank to staggering excess. Staggering being literal.

We actually got the exact same campsite we had last year - the best one in the area, in my opinion: isolated, back to the lake, lots of room, great views. The only bad thing about it is that at the particular part of the lake we're set against, the first 50 feet of water is really knee-deep swamp mud. Dogs don't know this. Or care. So, for much of the time I had two really smelly, mud caked dogs running around. Pungent doesn't begin to describe it. After two nights of sleeping close quarter with them (yes, they sleep inside the tent. They've earned it.), I took them further down the lake to a more sandy spot and washed them both down with my Old Spice body wash. It only took two hours for one of them to get muddy again.

I had a lot of fun. Tiring, tiring fun. But, any year when I can get home without the National Guard's help is a success. I won't bore you all by writing about the entire trip, but here's a little anecdote about the most memorable afternoon...

On Saturday, someone suggested that we take a hike up to Ranger's Lookout Point #424, the highest in the state. Which makes it one of the highest in the country. "Bring the dogs.. It'll be fun!"

Spider Sense ... tingling...

So, we loaded up the dogs and headed on out to the Point. Here's Sarah enjoying the view:

You can't drive all the way up to the Point, or even close, really. The only access road leading directly to it is ATV only. You have to hike up there if you really want to see the view. After we parked, I couldn't immediately see the tower. But, someone was happy to point it out to me:

Christ on a crutch!

I gotta tell ya, that was a long-ass hard climb. I wish I'd brought my GPS, really I do, but I'd guesstimate that it was about a 2 1/2 mile trek at a mostly 30 degree slope up. Oh, and at 8500+ feet. I was gasping for air the entire way up. We stopped frequently. The dogs stopped even more often and had to be coaxed upwards and onwards. About halfway up I realized that I forgot to bring them any water. So, I was determined to get to that station if for no other reason to get the dogs some water. If they had water. And boy, do the dogs look tired. Not to mention how often you need to rest and get your breath back... Nevermind! Keep moving! One foot in front of the other! Hup! Hup!

This trek of course reminded me of the time I was in this area two years ago and the exhaustive "hike" I did then. This time, I had a trail to follow and I was able to keep moving after only a few minutes rest; that other time ... I collapsed. Often. And this time I had four other guys to spur me along. Or rather, to not fail in front of. Guys are funny that way.

After a few hours, we reached the top! 9450 feet above sea level! And the lookout tower! Although, it looked much more majestic from 1000 feet lower.

The two rangers currently posted there gave us a little history lesson, told us about the area in general, and about what they do. Their job keeps them stuck there for weeks on end; they live on only what they carry in, and they carry out everything after their "shift" is over. That made asking them for dog water a little uncomfortable for me. But, lo and behold! One of them went to storage and came out with an entire 2 liter bottle with "Dog Water" sharpied on it. Apparently, there are a lot of tired dogs with forgetful owners who visit.

As uncomfortable as their job may seem, the views outside of their office somehow makes it worth it:



After resting for about an hour, we finished the trek down, which was much easier than the trek up for some unknown reason. When we got back to camp, the dogs drank until they puked, then crashed and only woke up for dinner.

As I'm writing this now, 2 days later, the effects of that day have hit me hard; I'm completely sore from the waist down. It really hurts to go down stairs, and I'll certainly hit the sheets early tonight.

But that's not even remotely close to the soreness problems the dogs are having.

Watching them get up and walk - only when they have to, mind you - evokes a strange mixture of pity and comedy. If you've ever seen a really old dog slowly and painfully stagger around the room, then you've got an idea. It's like a drunk with a purpose. Just this morning, Deliah tried her damnedest to get up and go outside only to decide at the edge of the door frame that it's too much work, she could probably hold it after all, and she'd rather stagger back to sleep again. Like I said: Tragic, but funny. Give them a day or so and they'll both be fine.

So, great trip all things considered. But even greater to be back home again.

Three Dog Night: Revisited

As some of you may know, I was once lost in the Idaho wilderness for three days. And by "lost" I don't mean "took a wrong turn, forgot where my campsite was." No, I mean "The National Guard used search helicopters and corpse-sniffing dogs to pull my skinny ass out from the top of a mountain." I was exhausted, starving, frozen, hallucinating, and all around very bad off. To this day I'm convinced that if I didn't have those three dogs with me (two are mine, one just followed us. Bet he regretted that.), I'd be dead. They all got steak. It's a great story that I keep threatening to write up. Maybe I will, one day. There's lots to tell, and it's a bit daunting, to be honest.

(A little bit of trivia for ya: That term "Three Dog Night" actually means that it's so cold outside you need three dogs around you to keep warm at night. I've lived that. Yes, I'm not too proud to admit that I've spooned with dogs in the woods. Hi, Googlers!)

I was a local news story for a few days - I think I even had a news countdown ... you know, "Lost Camper Watch - Day 2!" When I arrived at the hospital, there were news crews wanting interviews and everything.

Yep. My 15 minutes of fame. Sometimes they're like that, I suppose.

Anyway, that trip was actually a yearly camping get-together of friends where we basically sit around a campfire and do guy things. While drunk. And, because we're all geeky guys, comics, laptops, and collectible card games are involved. I bring my mandolin, just to be different. Of course, the rules for the trip all changed the year I got lost. Now, party-goers to these annual outings have the bonus feature of making fun of me.

(None of these people are me.)
I get to wear florescent orange road-construction T-shirts, GPS around my neck, am constantly barraged with "Hey, you think you can make it to the cooler without getting lost?" and never allowed to stray from camp. All in all, I get the business. And that makes me pretty much obligated to attend every year from now on.

I really don't mind; these guys rescued me. Plus I have fun with it - hiding and yelling for help and whatnot.

So, me and the dogs are just about to head off for the second re-union of my wilderness excursion. And I already got a taste of it when my boss called me into his office to ask if I could code a script to simplify some internal page testing:

"I understand you're off for that camping trip today?"

"Yep. I'll be taking a half day."

"So ... if you aren't here on Monday ... would you prefer the local Park Service or do you have some new drinking buddies in The National Guard?"

He's a riot.

(By the way - yes, I was lost in August. Yes, I was freezing. It gets damn cold at night when you're nearly 8,000 feet up and only wearing a T-shirt and shorts. I've honestly never been so cold at night.)

So, there'll be no new posts until Monday. Well, maybe a quickie on Sunday night if I've recovered. Assuming that I find my way out of the woods, that is. Har, har. It begins.

Oh! And just to have something fun to post - Here's one of my very first Photoshop mock-ups I made from an old comic ad shortly after my rescue. I sent this around to all the fellas who helped me out.

A few things to note:

1 - Being very new at Photoshop at the time and looking at it again now, this is a really crappy job. Even by my typically crappy Photoshop standards.

2 - I'm yelling "I see bugs!" in the last bit. That's an actual quote.

3 - "Pipp" was my Everquest character's name. I met most of the guys through the game and honestly, I think that's the only name some of them know me by to this day.

Told you we were geeks...

In case you're curious, Here's where I was lost .. and where I'm off to in an hour or so. The video was actually filmed from the very campsite that I tried so hard to find my way back to. It gives you a pretty good idea of the terrain I kept collapsing in. I tried to find an old article specifically about my particular adventure... but the Google, it does nothing.

Enjoy your weekend ... and wish me luck!

---

Bonus Addition!

Forgot I had this ... Here's drawing my li'l sis (age 10 at the time) made of my exploits after hearing the story:

Click for Biggie. I think I'm yelling "Help!"
This is officially the cutest thing you'll see today. She even got the doggies right.

Jonah Hex: Badass Week - Addendum

OK, okay.. one more! Because No-one Demanded it!

Now with current events relevancy goodness!

Dear Mr. Hex:

As a former Georgia resident, dog lover, and long-time sports fan, I've been following the recent troubles involving Atlanta Falcons Quarterback Michael Vick and his dog fighting indictment with much interest. I seem to recall you yourself were once very acquainted with a friendly traveling canine partner, and was wondering what you feel would be a just and proper punishment for Mr. Vick, should these accusations be proven true.

Sincerely,

Mr. Folded Soup, Esq.

---

Dear Soup Fellah:

Yep. Seems fair ta me.

---

Happy weekend, everyone! Hug your doggies!

Jonah Hex: Badass Week Continues!

Welcome to part II of The Want List's very first theme week where we're taking a closer look at that surly, hard-drinkin', no-nonsense, gun-tootin', ugly polecat...

Know ye well, fellow travelers, that even though ol' Jonah was always a badass, he did still manage to show us his softer side every once in a while: A kindly word spoken here, a secret donation to the local whorehouse there, killing a doctor who wouldn't give the orphanage the necessary medicine... In fact, at one time he even had a sweet li'l doggie that traveled around with him. A cute, cuddly li'l thing that would playfully nip at your heels and roll over to get his tummy scwatchy-watched.

Just kidding. He had a Timber Wolf. Named "IronJaws."

Hex inherited Ironjaws from a dead Indian child who died in his arms. He tagged along for a few years (judging by his longtime appearance in the Showcase collection), and was a great companion / plot device. There were several real cute moments involving this canine killer with a heart of gold, and he came in quite handy at times, like when say... when Jonah falls asleep three feet away from a rattlesnake:

Ironjaws kills the rattler, but gets mortally bitten in the process. Jonah, horrified, calms and reassures his loving partner with the soothing words that only a kindly pet lover could relate:

Awwwww.....

Jonah saddles up and races Ironjaws to the nearest town and to the nearest doctor. Upon seeing the wolf and the rugged stranger who brought him in, the doctor refuses to treat the beast. Besides, he's already tending to a patient - a human patient, naturally, and certainly that takes precedence over some mangy wolf! Jonah retorts by appealing to the doctor's compassion with a stunning display of wit, logic and reason previously unseen before:

The other patient, clearly upset at having to give up his place in line for treatment, hobbles to the nearest saloon to rat out Jonah to a couple of guns simply named "Butcher and his brother." And with names like that, they're obviously soon-to-be outraged members of the American Medical Association. Or P.E.T.A.

Turns out Hex killed their other brother a while back and they see this as the perfect opportunity to get even and bushwhack him by hitting him so hard his head explodes:

They tie Hex up, lash him to their horses, and bring him for a scrape through the desert where they beat on him a bit. This just makes Jonah mad, because ... well, he's a badass! And, as Butcher's brother puts it, "That's because Jonah is tough! R-E-A-L tough!" No shit.

They get pissed, knock Jonah out again, and taking a page from the never-fail villain rulebook that says, "Do not simply kill your nemesis when you have him prone. Devise some death trap for him so that you can leave him unattended and free to pursue more villainy," they tie him spreadeagled in the desert to die from exposure.

(Foreshadowing Ahoy!)

And he probably would have, too, if it wasn't for that mangy dog:

If that doesn't hit your over-the-top heroic dog moment button, you have no soul. Me, I heard the music swell and I think I teared up a little. (*sniff*)

Sadly, because the plot demands it, Ironjaws dies (*sniff*) which prompts Jonah to almost say the first kind words he's ever said about the wolf (Ever. Seriously.) before he remembers who he is and what's his business:

With all recognition to Dave Campbell:

"FUCK YEAH!"
I'll let y'all in with a little foreshadowing here: Butcher and his brother will not last the next three pages.

Hex heads back to the Doc, who's scared spitless that Hex will take Ironjaws' escape out on him. But Hex just wants water and firearms because, "The general store is way over the other side of town An- Ah'm in a hurry!" Badass.

Meanwhile, B&B have robbed a bank, hired a stage, and rode it out for several days until they were sure no one could follow them. Repeating: They thought they killed Jonah "Badass" Hex with a walk-away death trap, but even if he did survive, he certainly couldn't follow them at this point. Stooopid formulaic soon-to-be ex-villains....

Hex blocks the stage with a large tree, and when the stagehands get out to clear it, he removes them from play. In the confusion, Butcher's brother, who is by this time known as "Dan," gets shot and Butcher himself escapes into the desert with Hex on his trail. But before Jonah can finish the job, B gets jumped by a mountain lion.

And because we can't let the telegraphed ending be denied, Butcher manages to shoot the lion, but not before he mangles his legs:

Hands up if you think ol' Jonah is gonna take this guy to a doctor.... Anyone? Anyone?

(Actually, the lion had rabies and doomed Butcher to several hours of an agonizing death. But, as it was pointed out by the good doctor over at Polite Dissent, that's not quite the way rabies works. I can only assume this bit was added to show that Jonah really only had two options: A) Mercy killing and 2) Let him suffer. Guess which one he chose. Badass.)

Finally, if you didn't see this neatly cyclical ending coming, then you weren't paying attention to the dialog when Jonah was in this same situation.

Neat. Nice and tidy. With the promise of steak.

I chose to writeup this particular story (Weird Western Tales #14, “Killers Die Alone”) for a few reasons: It's very well done, it jumps through multiple plot changes, I have a strange love-hate relationship with tragic doggie stories, and overall, it's a great Jonah Hex story. Grim, ugly, driven, an unstoppable badass - you get a good feel for what works with the character here - it's pretty representative, overall. But, most of all, this one builds to one fantastic, "Oh, Shit! Jonah's gonna fuckin' Destroy somebody!" moment right in the middle. His (though he never says it, you know it's true) beloved wolf is mortally injured, he gets bushwhacked when his guard is down, tortured, left to die, and survives only at the cost of said wolf... The Shit's Coming Down! And Hard! Really, my only complaint is that the buildup was so well done and the peak so high that I would have loved for the retribution in the 3rd act to stretch out a little longer. We all knew the outcome was forgone... let's delight in the journey for a bit. Still, one helluva fantastic Jonah Hex story.

Tomorrow: Hex: The movie? Plus! What's up with that scar? And ... more badass panels!

Safe and Sound

Back from camping - without incident! (Well.. a nasty case of sunburn, damn my pasty-white Irish hide!) The Idaho mountains, which really is most of Idaho, are absolutely gorgeous and part of the reason I moved out here. Getting to spend a weekend alone in them is an amazing, reflective experience. I'm exhausted, dirty, sick of secondary camp food options (what should have been an excellent steak and potatoes meal turned out far less so after a grill malfunction, and I ended up just giving it to the doggies who were less than thrilled), and refreshed for another soon-to-be very busy work week.

But - The photos! I have photos! Be jealous!

First off, understand that this isn't a campground. This is me driving old logging roads to follow the middle fork of the Boise river looking for a good turnoff trail that may lead to a decent place to set up tent. That's typical around here where everyplace (especially in Boise national forest) is a good campground. I found a particularly good one: back up against the river, good shade (sunburn aside), nobody around for miles, and one heck of a view. See for yourself:

View right outside my tent.

Right behind that tree line was the river:

Doggies love the river.

And at dusk, with the first star of the evening:

Or, it might have been Venus. I'll have to check.
(My camera's not good enough to get a decent full-on starlight panorama shot. At least, I didn't know how to set it up. But WOW! Were there a lot of stars visible! Full view of the milky way cutting across the sky and everything! Suck it, city folk!)

But, typically, it looked like this:

That cooler is full of snacks, that cup is full of bourbon, there was baseball on the radio, and there's a big ol' pile of comics on top. The ultimate couch potato!

Wonderful time, all in all. But still, good to be back!!

"Hey, Sarah? How'd you like your dinner?"

---

Tomorrow: The start of my very first theme week!

Badass?!? Durn Tootin'!

Happy 2nd!

Extremely rare 3rd Post!

For Bully:

Happy 2nd!

(It's an onion ring. She got a treat. And the Onion Ring. She's a good dog.)

Friday Night Quickie

Nothing springs to me mind to blog about tonight , but here's me trying to get better at Photoshop....

Original:

(6 Year Old photo of my doggies at play. Honestly, at play. They're funny.)
Here's me going all Alex Maleev / David Mack on it:

I kinda like it! This is promising...

(Took forever. But, I'm learning.)

Well.. off to a dog walk / Little league game!

Off Topic Weekend: Dogs

I have two dogs whom I love to death, but they couldn't be more different. Sarah is a typical lunk-headed hound dog who just loves life and everything about it to the point that she gets into a lot of trouble just being a big, curious dog. Like getting her head stuck in a fence, or getting bit on the nose by a groundhog, or adopting and bringing home a stray cat (that really happened - and that cat still hangs around). The kids on the block love her and sometimes knock on my door just to ask me if they can walk her. Emo Philips has a great joke about dogs that sums up Sarah perfectly:

Dogs are great. Because, you know, when you're asleep at 4 in the morning, and a squirrel runs across your lawn... well, you don't want to sleep through that!

Sarah deserves her own Bloggy entry, but today lets talk about my other dog, Deliah.

Deliah is the smartest dog I've ever met. EVER. Scary smart. She's a border collie mix, and she knows about 40 words perfectly, can communicate what she wants to me easily, seems like she's reading my mind at times, and probably just puts up with me because of the whole doorknob-mastery, opposible thumbs thing. I hope she never learns where the knives are kept. Or how to load a .38.

She is a much smaller dog than Sarah, so she gets less food - and she obviously notices. For months, no matter how much I rationed her, and how much I've exercised her, she's gained weight. She's a little fattie now. I eventually found out that she's been stealing Sarah's food each morning. By distracting her.

Let me repeat that:

By distracting her.

Deliah will finish her food off quickly, having less of it, then run into the other room out of sight and start growling and barking. Like she's found a kitten stuck in the wall or something. Sarah, being the big dopey curious hound dog that she is, will stop eating and go check it out. She sniffs the wall, tries all the corners, and looks around the room, scanning the ceiling for what Deliah was soooo concerned with. At that point, Deliah runs back to the kitchen and finishes Sarah's food while Sarah is still trying to figure out where ceiling cat is.

Think about that. That's evil-mastermind genius dog level thinking, right there. That's something out of Sun Tzu's playbook. And Sarah has been falling for this same scheme for months.

After I got wise to this, I put a stop to it. All seemed well except Deliah kept getting fatter. I couldn't figure out why until today, when I let her outside to do her business. Because she was barking and really wanted to go outside. She can sucker me, too.

After a while, I couldn't get her to come inside so I went out to find her myself. Eventually she came when I called, but she was chewing something as she returned. Like gum. And, in plain sight now on her way back, she stopped to grab another morsel before running inside.

My dog's eating her own crap. And loving it.

I'm assuming this is a recent thing, and the latest way for this evil genius of a dog to get more food, MORE FOOD!, MORE!! BWAHAHAHA!!!! but it does happen to coincide with the day that I switched their food to something local that is touted as "Best tasting! Best nutrition! Best for your dog!" And, brother!, they love this stuff - they can't wait to gobble it down. It's like doggie crack.

So, here's my suggestion for Grandma Z's Premium All Natural Dog Food's new slogan:

I'll be waiting for my check. Thanks!

EDIT: Changed the sign a bit. It's funnier when you use the word "Poo."