grur grur grur. let me tell ewe, this knew thing eye've discovered is jest the cat's pajamas! (eye say that because cats our the theme inn this post. eye donut have a clue what cat's pajamas our. gilda never where's pajamas. gross, yes, but then she says sum folks like harry naked pusses.) any weigh, what iams hear two talk about is this knew technology thing that eye've had the opportunition two beta-test. its called the meowlingual, end it bills itself as a cat translation device. does it work? its friggin' brilliant! awl day long gilda's bean running around the house screaming, "woody ewe to-bit idiot, dum butt, turd-eating, bawl-licking, flee-bag, lacy-ast, know-account, dog-breadth, peace-of-schmidt, whore's-faced excuse four a life-form, ewe could knot hold a candle two bob hope."

sew eye fire up my knew meowlingual and what dew eye here? music two my ears. everything gilda's saying gets translated into "meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow!" kewl.

Well, I'm back from summer camp and sucking up all the air-conditioning I can get up my nose. I was at Camp Derryduh doing some post-doc research in semiotics, a recent hobby of mine. For those of you who are unfamiliar with semiotics, it's the study of signs and symbols and signal fires and artificial constructs, etc.

Some of my friends think that studying semiotics is dumb, but it's not, it's just French. Granted, the word itself comes to us as a bastardization of the phrase "semi-neurotic," and originally referred to ideas that were halfway stupid, but we're well past the time when there was anything halfway about it.

What I've been concentrating on is trying to figure out what signs about dogs really signify. For instance, here's a sign I found posted on craphound.com (apparently not a real dog) that I've been analyzing. (click image for larger original site version.) As near as I can tell, this sign is a funny jab at women, who are more used to being told "Attention Wives: Pick up after your husbands. Thank you." Of course dogs don't leave their underwear and beer cans laying around, so the tongue-in-cheek humor is immediately evident. But I'm not interested in the human humor. Rather, I'm concerned about the second part of the sign that starts "Attention Dogs…"

Trying to figure out what this sign signifies is problematic on several levels. You know how Japanese children like to run around with t-shirts that have English phrases on them? And you laugh at how ridiculous it is? Stuff like "I love your happy watermelon" or "My homework went to the bathroom and all I got was this stupid t-shirt." But they don't know what it says. They just think it's amusing to be wearing something with English on it.

And the same thing happens with English-speaking athletes walking around with Asian character tattoos that look cool but actually say something like "My mom's hairdresser is in the very orange refrigerator."

So, I have to assume that whoever it was in the North Vancouver district who made this sign didn't actually speak dog and didn't realize that when dogs see "Grrrrr, bark, woof" it means "Did any of your father's bear turds lose this weird collar?"

Woody is of the opinion that there's a typo in this sign and what the human meant to say was "Grrr, bark, wolf" which, of course, means "Next rest stop, 23 miles, so you better go now." Possible, I guess, but if they're not willing to hire a dog proofreader, then they deserve to be ridiculed.

Anyway, if you, like me, are a big fan of semiotics, then you might be interested in my Master's Thesis: "The Semiotics of French Dog Signs" even if it is a bit technical for the casual reader.

With all due respect to my blogmate, Woody and his last post, you'd think that a neutered 47-and-a-half-dog-year-old dog might have learned just the teeny tiniest bit of respect for the gender of his mother and his 47 sisters. (Or for that matter, me.) Do you realize how de-caninizing it is for a bitch to be objectified like that? Take another look at Sweet Pea. Does she look happy? No. She looks terrified. That's an "I've got something weird stuck on my head, the lights are blinding, there's a thousand strangers staring at me, this collar is strangling me, I've got to take a shit and what's that strange smell" look if I ever saw one. And I haven't even mentioned the stupid evening gown competition. I just wish the Fox network would stop objectifying bitches and portray them with the same respect and dignity they reserve for human women.

oow, oow, ooooooowwwwww! ooo sweet pea, come on and dance with me!!!! did ewe see that "miss dog beauty pageant" last knight on fox? eye'm telling ewe the dog network no's how two dew it write. what a bunch of foxes! and sweet pea, the winner, well that bitch can hose down my kennel any time. yeah, she can brush my tale. eye'd let her open my cans. ewe bet. she could sure trim my nails. u-huh. she can give me my rabies shots. know weight. eye take that last won back. eye hate rabies shots.

For some reason I've been hearing the phrase "dogs of war" a lot lately. Given the context, this has both confused me and inspired me to investigate. The phrase seems to be a rallying cry for humans looking for moral support as they prepare for a preemptive war. The very thought makes me laugh. (Well, not really laugh. You know how a dog's mouth can seem to curl up into sort of a smile sometimes? Well that's me right now.)

What I'm imagining is two dog armies going to war. First they'd run up to each other for some sniff butt, then they'd have a pissing contest, then the loser would roll over on his back to expose his genitals, and finally they'd all go off looking for some fresh cat poop for lunch. It's all very scatological. That doesn't quite seem to be what humans mean when they say "dogs of war." (Nor, for that matter, is it covered by the Geneva Convention.)

I did manage to track down the origin of the phrase. In its more complete form the phrase is "Cry 'Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war" and was written by a guy named Bill Shakespeare. He is apparently a Hollywood screenwriter who cranks out starring vehicles for the likes of Mel Gibson, Leonardo DiCaprio and Keanu Reeves.

I guess it's pretty obvious that this Shakespeare hack doesn't know squat about dogs, or even animals in general. Sure dogs will fight to protect their young, but what animal wouldn't? If that justified the phrase, then he could just as easily invoke the "hamsters of war" or the "chickadees of war." Why just demonize dogs for being good parents?

The fact is, dogs only get war-like when they're subjected to intense behavior modification by humans. And even those dogs only attack in response to aggression. As far as I know, the only time a dog will actually initiate a preemptive attack along the lines of what humans are planning these days is when the dog has rabies. And you all know what we do to rabid dogs.

Our most brilliant good friend Buster sends along a referral to the following brilliant bits of brilliant cat slander: Viking Kittens and Independent Woman played by kittens. These are both brought to us by the brilliant Joel Veitch, whoever he is. Mr. Veitch obviously shares our belief that when viewed through the human gaze, a cat is only useful as a comic construct for the purposes of postmodern deconstruction of contemporary music, which can then be reconstructed using a pseudo-amateur anti-methodology that leverages a technological neo-colonialism reified by third world pestilence and greed. Without a doubt the post-profundity of this work predates anything that's been done since its creation.

breaker breaker good buddy. this is a call four sonya. i'm trying to establish telepathic communication with sonya. is sonya out their anywhere? sonya? this is woody, good buddy, tell me you're out their.

when eye say "sonya" i'm referring to sonya the pet psychic who is apparently getting paid a bunch of bucks to tell people what their pets are thinking. she's got her own tv show, her own web site, speaking engagements, advertisers, the hole nine yards. most dogs are lucky two have one yard, let alone nine. she probably makes 60-70 million purinas a year (granted that's in dog money).

if you spend some time on sonya's web site, you learn a couple of things. first, that most, if not all animals (i.e., like me), are capable of communicating telepathically with each other and any biped who happens two wander buy who can handle it. and second, ewe learn that most, if knot all humans, with the exception of sonya, are miserable failures at animal telepathy, which is why, apparently, they pay sonya the big bucks. (people on hallucinogenic drugs don't count. ewe may be telepathic, but the reception quality sucks. and besides, ewe forget all the important stuff. and forget about eddie murphy. that was a movie, fool.)

sew i'm basically calling ms. sonya out. if your such stuff, then ewe should bee getting in touch any moment. lettuce telecommune, compare notes about chigger, gilda and anyone else you might bee listening in on. as an added bonus, i'll tell you what that makeup technician, the one who was acting so nice, was really thinking about ewe during your last tv show.

and four the rest of you, eye wood point out that you can put your faith in sonya, and hope she's knot just snowing you for the money, or, you could contact year good buddies hear at blogdogs and find out what your pet or your pal is really thinking from animals with guaranteed psychic ability. don't believe me? try this. get up right now. go to your refrigerator. grab a big chunk of beef (raw or cooked, doesn't matter) and offer it two your dog. i guarantee you that dog's first reaction is going to be "how did you no?" so there. trust me.

The new issue of BARk magazine arrived at the house this week. If you're not familiar with BARk, lets just say that it seems to be fashionable reading for the human alt.dog crowd out there. At least the humans in my house seem to think it has merit. So I figured I'd better offer up an overview for y'all in case it starts showing up in your house.

Fact is, there's much to love about BARk. For starters, they tend to look down on electronic collars and fences, choke chains, that whole Monks-of-New-Skeet "alpha roll" thing, and, in general, what they call "negative reinforcement" (and what I call "hitting the dog"). So that's cool. And while they still have a lot to learn about the relationship between dogs and humans, they do discourage the language of subjugation, preferring the colonial term "dog caretaker" to the slave-connotations of "dog owner." And you gotta love the fact that the more obsessive contributors even insist that humans need to cook meals for dogs every day instead of dishing crap out of a bag or a can. Now that's phat-and-a-half. But be very careful here, since the more extreme of these diet-obsessed humans are just offering up fad diets that profess that meat is bad for you and that you should be fed a steady diet of quinoa and amaranth. (If you don't know what quinoa is, or how to pronounce it, then you are one very lucky dog.)

Admittedly, BARk wastes a lot of time arguing about issues like whether or not we should be "allowed" to drink out of the toilets (like they have anything to say about it), but the key is that from a human perspective this magazine is so dog obsessive that the people in your house are going to feel just terribly guilty that they're not doing enough to provide for your needs. This is something you can work with when it comes to training your humans. Just remember "the look."

On the negative side, BARk seems to be almost totally focused on town dogs. I'll just bite my tongue and skip my diatribe about latch-key dogs, walking on a leash and being told you can't bark when the fools next door are free to yell "SHUT UP" at you all afternoon. I can't imagine living in a world where humans pick up your shit, wrap it in plastic and carry it around. Gross. Remind them about THAT the next time they try to say you can't drink out of the toilet.

And if you judge a magazine by its advertising, then as soon as you see BARk arrive in your home, destroy it. Chew it, scratch it, piss on it, hide it, bury it, whatever works. Just get rid of it. The advertising is absolutely, totally, disgusting. Dog hats, dog sweaters, dog shorts, dog underwear, dog capes, dog booties, dog jewelry, dog evening wear, dog beach wear, dog rain coats, dog diapers, dog condoms, ad infinitum, plus dog therapists and dog massagists and dog psychics and dog touchers and dog urns and a whole pack of humans that want to paint your picture and a whole bunch of politically correct dog toys. (I already mentioned the quinoa, didn't I?) It's like just when you think you're starting to get a handle on human intelligence, they exhibit behavior that's totally inscrutable. But that's why we love 'em, right?

So the bottom line is that if you've trained your bipeds to be media savvy about advertising, and you've convinced them that political correctness is a human trait that has nothing to do with dogs, then BARk is probably as good a dog magazine as you can have around the home. Of course nothing can beat the New York Times when you've got diarrhea and it's raining outside.

I had the privilege of sitting through one of the top ten movies of all time yesterday: Hooch & Turner (although I fear my dyslexia is returning, since everywhere I look, it's listed as "Turner & Hooch"). What makes me bring that up is that while I was watching I logged onto the Internet Movie Database and discovered that there's absolutely no mention of Beasley, the actor who stole the movie in the role of Hooch. Beasley plays opposite the whiny, mugging Tom Hanks, best known for playing a supporting role to a fish named Daryl Hannah in "Splash" and to a soccer ball named Wilson in "Cast Away." And yet he's credited right at the top with no mention of Beasley anywhere. IMDB lets you know that Ted H. Hauser was the "assistant camera second unit" and even that Gary Wasserman was uncredited as "assistant to director," but Beasley... nada.

Just watch the stakeout scene where Hooch keeps watch in the front seat of the car while Turner dozes in the back. You'll realize that Beasley CARRIED Tom Hanks. Marlon Brando might be able to do the sloppy face-licking and the drooling close-ups, but nobody cried when HE died at the end of Apocalypse Now. And Tom Green might be able to eat cat turds and lick his genitals but not even hyenas think he's funny.

So tell me how they could fail to credit the star and one of the great performances in film history? Does it have something to do with the fact that Beasley's a dog, and Tom Hanks, Ted Hauser and Gary Wasserman are people? And that the IMDB is run by people? See a pattern here? Do I need to use the "d" word and play the species card? I hope not.