In The Rubble

Those of you who are regular readers of The News From Jackson Press know that we have two dogs, two lovely Vizsla bitches, that cohabit our home here at Jackson Acre. And you probably also know that I believe dogs should be practical, hard working beasts, since they were bred over the eons to perform certain prized duties for their masters. I don’t cotton to those vanity breeds that you always see celebrities carrying around like baggage, teeny little yappy dogs that serve no other purpose than to act as surrogate babies, complete with little velour track suits and doggie strollers.

Those dogs don’t know they’re dogs.

Me, I personally enjoy hunting dogs, those spectacular canines that were bred to work with their masters to seek out and retrieve game. Such animals are immensely practical, since neither master nor dog gets to eat if either party is crappy at their job. Such breeds are also loving, hard working beasts who are happiest when doing whatever it was they were bred to do, be it hunt, herd, or kill rats.

Our own Jackson dogs are very much working dogs. Well, their job is at least part-time. And really only one of them hunts, since the other one’s still a pup. And Ginger, the oldest, has done moderately well, considering she received no real training other than the “on-the-job” kind, much like one receives when they become new government employees. You know, throw ‘em in the deep end and see if they sink – if they swim, promote ‘em!

You probably also know that our hunting dogs are also “show” dogs, although calling Daisy a show dog is something of a stretch right now. Now I consider the “show” job to be secondary to the hunting job, but my wife considers it the opposite and we all know who the boss is. And since we’ve now got two show dogs to show, guess who got drafted to help show the second dog this past weekend?

Yeah, that would be me.

And, yeah, it was a lot like this scene from the movie “Best In Show“, only the wife didn’t fall down and hurt her knee and we weren’t at Westminster. But I did dress up in a nice sport coat and tie (on the weekend, no less!). And I did prance around the ring like all good dog handlers do, dragging Daisy like a bouncing lead weight.

Maybe prance is a strong word; it was more like lumbering.

But I did manage to avoid stepping on Daisy’s feet and she managed to avoid peeing in the ring in her puppy-ish excitement, so those small victories alone made the event a success. And Ginger earned another point on her way to becoming a “Champion”. That “Champion” designation really only means that we can finally breed Ginger and sell her pups in a desperate effort to recoup the small fortune we spent on dog show entry fees getting her championed.

It’s an expensive and vicious cycle, exactly as portrayed in “Best In Show“.

Who’s a Pretty Bitch?!

Bitter?

The Latest News From Jackson Press – Back To Normal

Some readers of Civil Servitude expressed concern and dismay over our seemingly upbeat and positive outlook on 2008. They said it was entirely out-of-character and they found it very disheartening and just plain freaky.

Evidently we are known more for our witty cynicism and generally downbeat outlook on life. When we deviated from that, with even the slightest bit of optimism and hope, fans thought we were ill and possibly psychotic. Homicide was also mentioned, although we’re unclear if they actually meant our homicide for being upbeat or possibly us perpetuating homicide on someone else, since we seemed so out-of-character.

But rest assured that it’s all over with and everything’s back to normal. All the factors that we thought were going our way a mere three weeks ago have once again shifted and deposited us squarely in the miasma that is existence here at Jackson Acre.

Ahh, but you’re curious, aren’t you? Just what was it that had us so happy and joyous, so hopeful and optimistic? I can hear you now, saying “Tell us, Mr. Jackson. Please share with us those positive things you that banked your happiness on! Share with us the things in life you thought were going you way!”

Fair enough. Yes, we can admit that we actually had hope that things were going our way in 2008. It all seemed so real, so true. Peace and success seemed so obtainable. But, alas …

For starters, work (the asinine government, not Jackson Press) promised us that we would finally get back to a normal workload, which meant dropping my responsibilities to only dealing with one major city department! But no. I continue to remain stuck carrying, arguably, the two LARGEST departments in the city.

Motivated? Thrilled about work? Ready to succeed and please both my customers and my leaders?? Yeah, that’s me. Yeah, I’m smiling because I LOVE MY FRAKIN’ JOB and NOT because I’m really contemplating who to cuss out first as I suffer through yet another asinine meeting …

What’s next on my shite list?

Let’s see, how about the home? Yes, I continue to gripe about Jackson Acre and it’s never-ending drainage problems, which should get fixed this spring, but that does nothing to alleviate the sump pump frequency for the next two months. But we had a glimmer of hope a few weeks ago. We found a beautiful house in the neighborhood we’d like to be in. Slightly over our price range, we made an offer none-the-less. It was the in-ground pool and three-season room that clinched it for me. And we could swing the payment, our accountant told us, although it would be very, very, very tight.

The pool was enough for us to make an offer. And they excepted our second counter-offer, but only if we could close by May 1st, regardless of whether or not we’d sold the swamp at Jackson Acre. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have enough cash sitting around here at Jackson Acre to pay for a house without selling my current one. And – oddly enough – I don’t see Jackson Acre selling particularly quickly when a quarter of my acre is under water. I also don’t see anyone making us an offer on Jackson Acre after they realize the sump pump goes off every three minutes on a good day.

So that all fell through, reinforcing my belief that I live in Hell and I’m not going anywhere until I make amends here. Purgatory is what I’m calling it now, but more on that next time.

Finally, I didn’t get the motorcycle I was looking at, which wound up being strike three in the positive things I was so looking forward to happening in early 2008. I’m still looking, but the outlook is a bit grim. That’s the story of my life, eh?

So rest assured, dear reader, that our upbeat and positive attitude has once again been beaten out of us by life, a delicate reminder that good things don’t typically happen to anyone we know, and when they do happen to people we know that gives us the perfect reason to be even more bitter and cynical about this place in life that we find ourselves in, where nothing really good ever happens, just moderately mediocre things that don’t make much difference.

Yeah, back to normal …

Trying to fool myself by repeating -
“I Love My Job. I Love My Job.”