Arlo and Janis (AMS) make sensible preparations for Tuesday night. My apartment is at the back of the landlords’ house and so I don’t get trick-or-treaters, which is good because my current dog is not used to knocks on the door.
But in days of larger dogs and a place with heavier traffic, I had a ridgeback who adored Halloween and insisted on greeting each young visitor with a damp, affectionate snozzle. One little fellow, maybe three, was instructed to say “Thank you” by his dad, and said, “Thank you, doggie.”
They were back about 15 minutes later. The father said he didn’t want more candy — he just wanted to see the dog again.
Those were the days.
Speaking of dogs, Carpe Diem (KFS) brings up the ancient principle “It ain’t the size of the dog in the fight; it’s the size of the fight in the dog.”
When I decided to downsize from 100-pound ridgebacks for my next pup, I had a list of things I wanted to avoid in a small dog, including excessive barking and expensive grooming, but high on the list was pugnacity, since I’m a dog-park person.
The combination eliminated a whole lot of terriers, who are marvelous, delightful, highly trainable dogs on their own but often feel compelled to take on other dogs.
I suppose if you’re bred to beat up on foxes and badgers and things that go bump in the night, it’s not surprising and, as in the cartoon, there is no size limit on who these little guys decide needs a good whupping or at least a sharp warning.
And most big dogs will back off, often with a mystified “What do I do about this?” expression, though (careful!) that isn’t a guaranteed reaction.
Before the objections begin, no, not every terrier is feisty and combative, just as not every Lab or Golden enjoys leaping into water and wallowing in mud. On the other hand, it seems silly to get a Lab and then scold him when he makes like a hippopotamus at every opportunity. There are only a handful of terriers who come to play at the park.
This is the best site I’ve found for those who prefer caveat emptor over cave canem.
Rhymes With Orange (KFS) addresses the issue of on-line recipe sites whose income is based on getting you to find their page in the first place and then be exposed to whatever ads they show, with bonuses if you buy ingredients from their sponsors.
I’ve never trusted bounce rates, because spambots come and go in a flash, which can seem like a lot of real people checking in and then checking back out again. Average time spent is a little more useful, though I’ve long accepted that some people scroll though the comics here without reading the wit and wisdom between them. But spambots lower average time, too.
Here’s a less technical, more entertainingly furious view of the issue specific to recipe sites.
Love the stunned expression on the victim’s face here.
It’s an easy logical step from that RWO to this Pardon My Planet (KFS), since I’m less interested in how politicians address demographics than in the way advertisers and marketers do. Having worked in that sector, I am convinced that it’s all a steaming heap held together by the narcissism of its practitioners.
The system of Boomers and Millennials and X’s and Z’s is based on the Bandwagon Effect, with people wanting to identify with a group, and its darker side, FOMO.
In other words, there are people who want it all to be true, and people who need it all to be true, and they embrace marketers in a symbiotic relationship, though it doesn’t take much for it to be revealed as mutually parasitic.
Spoiler: He takes the job. If you haven’t seen The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit, you really should. It’s about a lot more than the advertising business, just as The Apartment is about a lot more than the insurance business.
Elsewhere in the business world, Alex has been in a story arc about Work-From-Home, layoffs and other delights.
I worked from home for the last decade of my career, and I know several people doing it now, mostly because, as I did, they time their trips to the dog park around deadlines, phone calls and mandatory Zoom meetings. And, as I also did, a couple of them get on airplanes occasionally for a little of the physical workplace time Cyrus talks about.
It’s nothing new, though there’s a lot more WFH now. But the first example I knew was a quarter century ago, and I started a dozen years ago.
Your old road is rapidly aging, Cyrus: Get out of the new one if you can’t lend a hand.
The Internet is the chief development that enables WFH, and this Duplex (AMS) reminds me that, while I’m able to write off a portion of my connection fees as business expenses, I could save even more if I weren’t burdened with ethics.
And if my apartment were just a little closer to the public library, since its open connection is visible in my choices, but not strong enough to access.
Today’s Candorville (KFS) gives me flashbacks. My ex and I are on reasonable terms 40 years after our breakup, but I’ve watched others go through it and I continue to marvel over how much of marriage counseling consists of searching for someone who will agree that you are the innocent, oppressed party.
And in my second bachelorhood, I never met the insane half of a former couple. Somehow, I always ran into the innocent, oppressed person who had been tragically married to a manipulating lunatic.
In vain I have looked for a single man capable of seeing his own faults and bringing the
charge home against himself. — Confucius (The Analects)
The Buckets (AMS) offer another marital mystery, which is why the cook ever sends the other partner shopping. I am very much encouraged by the number of men I see at the grocery store with tiny kids, but they’re not the ones wandering randomly through the aisles glued to their phones desperate to avoid buying the wrong cheese.
As if buying the correct cheese would fix everything.
Grocery shopping is a chore that my wife and I both hate doing. So, we’re completely fair on the subject: Every Wednesday, we both go to the grocery store and hopefully get the whole chore knocked out within half an hour.
One of the secrets of a marriage that works: Never dump a job you both hate on the other person. Do it together, and share the misery. At least nobody can complain about being used at the end.
“One of the secrets of a marriage that works: Never dump a job you both hate on the other person. Do it together, and share the misery. ” My wife and I just celebrated our 33d and that’s great advice. That’s generally how our dishes get done.
And the shopping is why there are now phone apps that have your shopping list, pictures of the items, and which aisles the items are on.
Which is fine when they’re shopping at the correct store.
Not always. Sometimes even the right store, showing the item is in stock in a specific aisle, doesn’t have that item. An employee checking on his phone could offer only that “It says it should be here.”
The generational stuff is fun, so long as you don’t take it too seriously. But when I covered the Baby Boom in class, I divided it between Early Boomers and Late Boomers. Very different experiences, especially around Vietnam. Born in 1959, I never even had to register for the draft. I don’t remember JFK or most of the Civil Rights campaigns, and have, at best, a child’s memory of Dr. King, RFK, and riots. As someone once noted, growing up in the 1970s was like showing up in New Orleans on Ash Wednesday. Everyone is hungover, there’s a mess everywhere, and people keep saying you missed a hell of a party.
I was born in ’52, my wife in ’59. We both agree entirely with your post.
Working from home is great, grocery shopping from home is heavenly.
I think I up your average time spent on page with the consistent interruptions from my children whilst I read.
Mike said: though I’ve long accepted that some people scroll though the comics here without reading the wit and wisdom between them
I reply: I and my cohorts DO read your wit and wisdom. And, we find you rarely make a misstep.
And, the eccentric character in pardon my planet reminds me of a woman who was elected to allegedly represent us in congress. But, has turned out to only be interested in representing her own financial and political interests.
Also, we have all sworn to each other that we will avoid bandwagons.
And, in candorville and the Buckets, as in life, too many are jumping to seclusions. Our first art organization circa 1998 has the motto: Toward Enlightenment, through Communication, by Means of the Arts and Sciences.