While taking my dog for a leisurely stroll through McGuane Park last night we came across another dalmation struggling with the excess weight that comes from being fed table scraps all day. Ths time the dalmation was being walked by a middle-aged momma's boy with a hairlip and a lisp.
As I trust Emmy she was without a leash and, being a curious dog, trotted to the dalmation; the dogs were separated by the wrought iron fence that surrounds the park's perimeter. After some good natured sniffing and tail-wagging the dogs bared their teeth and started to mark territory. I called Emmy to my side to see if she was alright. Her tail was wagging furiously- she had eveidently enjoyed the encounter.
So did the dalmation, who couldn't stop barking and whose tail was also wagging manically. That was when the momma's boy yanked the leash taut and smacked the dalmation hard on the side.the dalmation cowered and limped away from the fence.
Taken aback I snapped, "Hey! They were just playing." I said.
Momma's Boy adjusted his glasses on his greasy head and said, "Itth'th all phunn and gameth until thomeone maketh blood."
Meanwhile I'm thinking that his dalmation is so sedated by table scraps and its own morbid obesity that it's a wonder she could keep up with emmy for the brief time they did bark at each other.
Someone needs to call an intervention to dalmation owners in Bridgeport to shock them into understanding that having an overweight dog is not cool.
I Now Follow A Jewish Harmonica Player
The main reason I bought tickets to Friday Night's Bob Dylan show was that Merle Haggard would be playing. And he did not disappoint. What Michelle and I managed to see of Amos Lee impressed, as well.
But I was blown away by Dylan.
Seriously blown away.
I assumed that Bob would put together a band of players who would do serviceable interpretations of his catalog. What I did not expect was to be rocked from opening note to final curtain. His band had a masterful grasp on multiple American music stylings- blues, folk, jazz, country, hard rock, and Western Swing. When it was over I had a shit-eating grin on my face the entire train ride home. Simply amazing.
I still can't succinctly place what I heard Friday night into words. The closest I think I will come is this: if you want a crash course on late- 20th Century American popular Music, go see Bob Dylan. He'll catch you up in about ninety minutes.
I think he caught Michelle up so much that I hope she does herself a favor and catches Oscar Brown, Jr. at the Hideout this evening.