Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Stately, But Not Plump

Well, holy shit, you are a picturesque dog.

“Hello. Yes, okay. The thing you said. Hello.”

Where are you? It looks like The Sound of Music.


Right. Can you be more specific?


Okay. Listen, I’ve always wondered: do dogs understand music?

“I understand it isn’t threat.”


“Beyond that, not really. Wait: does vacuum cleaner make music?”


“Okay, good. Because that is threat.”

It’s honestly not.

“Better to be safe. I will bark at vacuum.”

Probably a good idea. But, hey: if the vacuum is such a menace, why don’t you attack it first? You know, when it’s asleep?

“Dogs not tactical thinkers.”

Oh, yeah.

“Great military strategists generally not dogs.”

No, you’re right. Rommel was a person.

“People are the best. Rommel must have been great.”

Well, comparatively.

“That is Mt. Tamalpais in background.”


“Nothing. I am dog.”

Good dog.

“Oh, yes.”


  1. If there was any justice in this world, you would be a rich man from the dog posts alone.

  2. The hills are alive with the sound of Buck!

    For anyone worried that this shit is off topic, that dark bit of redwoods in the upper left hand of the frame is the former location of Camp Lagunitas where the boys lived in the summer of ’66. And if the dog chased a tennis ball a mile downhill in the direction of the camera, he would arrive at Serenity Knolls, where you know who shuffled off.

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