A much better day, thank you. Birch is fine, I think, and yes I’m going to keep pretending that everyone is invested in this pup as much as I am, because it’s a Story, a plot, and otherwise the weeks just grind on with unvarying sameness, punctuated by weather reports and gripes about movies.
Besides, today has a Famous Book Spine Challenge.
We went to the vet. Here I am with concerns about a logy doggy, and he’s all hyped with excitement because everything smells like a million dogs, and there’s ANOTHER DOG! A saturnine old lab, who regards him with disinterest. And I mean that in the second definition sense, “lack of interest,” not impartiality, which is the correct usage. But a dog wouldn’t know that, so he thought he was being disinterested.
We weighed him. He hasn’t gained very much weight for a growing dog. We had a conversation about that, and ruling out parasites, it’s possible -
hold on, because this gets complicated -
He’s not getting enough food.
Now, I think everyone understates the amount of food they give their dog when talking to a vet. How much do you feed him?
Oh, a glass of wine a day. Sometimes two? OH SORRY, a cup three times a day.
In my head I’m thinking that’s what we were told, and I know I feed him more than that, because he will wolf down anything. It’s possible he gets five cups a day, and it’s not enough.
“Maybe, a cup and a half?” she says, and I’m thinking, how about three cups, four times a day?”
“Perhaps he’s part whippet,” she says. “They’re thin.”
She checks his teeth, and says “You got all your big boy teeth now.”
This didn’t click until later. If he has all his teeth, he’s not five months old. He’s six or seven. He never went through a teething stage where he gnawed on everything. It’s possible he will not be a big dog. It’s possible this is getting close to his final form.
Which would be fantastic. Anyway, the logyness was discussed, and it’s, well, one of those things: it could be his temperament. As for his limp, it’s probably . . . a strain of some sort, and she said she’d get him something for it.
“Deramaxx?” I said. Yes, that was it. I had some left over. She went to check what the dosage had been, and came back with a sad smile: “that was for Jasper,” she said.
You know you have the right vet when they remember the dog before the dog before the dog you have now.
I told her I was going to get him big juicy meat wet dog food of the finest quality, and she said that would be fine, mixed in with his kibble. I’m thinking: he’s getting the entire can.
And he did. Well, the container; it was a plastic bowl that looks like it’s a good dip for crudites. This was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him today.
I think he'll be fine.
Anyway: In the vet’s office, a painting on the wall. Can you beat the Famous Book Spine Challenge from just this detail?
The detail fixes it at a particular time in the culture, and it’s a book that was on the shelf of every modern, liberated person.
Name the title.
In the early evening - by which I mean, oh, SIX O’FARGIN’ CLOCK NOW, gah - the sunset was setting everything on fire. Or was it painting the world with its autumn hues? I can’t remember which cliche I used last. Parking lot of grocery store:
Driving home, the water tower looks gorgeous:
. . . and in the waning light of October, the Guardians of Health steel themselves for Winter.
Limited edition? They're all limited, unless you believe that infinite quantites of Crunch are being shot from huge pipes in a factory somewhere.
Okay, so the milk is green. Spoooooky. Note how the attribute of the cereal is sufficient now; it's just Crunch. It's not Cap'n Crunch, which was an odd name when you think about it. It's like a cereal named Admiral Consume.
His eyes have come out of his skull and exceed the brim of his hat.
It's 1933.
The two don’t really seem to be as closely connected as the advertisers would like you to believe.
I mean, you’re supposed to brush after every meal, and if you have gum disease, you should do something about it. But if we’re talking about food and dentition, maybe you should consider smoking less or not at all, because it’s putting a layer of roofing tar over your tastebuds and turning your teeth yellow.
Your RADIOTRON purchase may get you a trip to see the exciting world of people standing around in studios, talking into microphones:
Just kidding, it’s not a contest. Your “tour” consists of listening to the radio. Like you always do. Except you can listen to more stations than you usually do, because they’ll send you a map.
Then you can “step out tonight” and try to pull in stations on the other side of the country. Except you can’t, because they’re broadcasting at a relatively low wattage, and aren’t getting the atmospheric skip. Ah well. It was fun to think about.
Approved by the government office in charge of making everyone look like they’re doing something.
Hag Joe didn’t catch on. For some unimaginable reason.
The quiet lives of the well-heeled late-middle-aged Americans was never drawn so well:
The National Recovery Act approved of your choice of unwieldy metal syrup containers. In case you’re unfamiliar:
The Act had two main sections (or "titles"). Title I was devoted to industrial recovery, authorizing the promulgation of industrial codes of fair competition, guaranteed trade union rights, permitted the regulation of working standards, and regulated the price of certain refined petroleum products and their transportation. Title II established the Public Works Administration, outlined the projects and funding opportunities it could engage in. Title II also provided funding for the Act.
Yes, that’s how you recover from a bank panic and economic contraction: regulate the bleep out of everything and have DC bureaucrats set prices.
NIRA, as implemented by the NRA, became notorious for generating large numbers of regulations. The agency approved 557 basic and 189 supplemental industry codes in two years. Between 4,000 and 5,000 business practices were prohibited, some 3,000 administrative orders running to over 10,000 pages promulgated, and thousands of opinions and guides from national, regional, and local code boards interpreted and enforced the Act.
The Supreme Court struck it down in 1935.
In 1936, the GNP expanded by 14.1%.
Wow: in 1933, the gas company sold $2 million dollars worth of appliances. WOW
So, use gas! Also please don’t nationalize us okay c’mon just don’t
Fussy stomachs calmed by stock-photo doctors looking at things in glass vases.
“Eating too fast - an American habit.” Tums aren’t a laxative, so don’t worry about having a blowout after eating a handful.
“99.9%” of all Tums are made here, in Downtown St. Louis.
Turn around behind you to see a competitor getting in a shot.
Where are the .1% of the remaining Tums made?
A cold may lead to flu! Well, no. Or Grippe! What? That’s an old word for flu.
It’s got poultice-action! It “draws out” tightness, and I assume the quote marks indicate that it really does nothing of the sort. It’s camphor, eucalyptus, and menthol.
Make sure you follow the Vicks Plan, and your home will have fewer colds this winter.
Our home gets about 2 colds a year at most, and that’s with three people.
