Chet The Dog

Archive for October, 2012

Friend of the Month Reminder

“Powerless for thirty hours,” says Admin. “How did we do?”

“Let’s just say our dreams of going off the grid and living the simpler life need some revision,” Spence says. “But now we’re back, and just in time to remind everybody that today is the last day of the month – “

” – and also Halloween. Love those pumpkin seeds.”

” – and therefore the last day of eligibility for November’s Friend of the Month contest. All you have to do is upload a photo to the Friends of Chet gallery. The random # generator does the rest! If you’re already in the gallery you’re eligible till the crack of doom.”

“Which just about happened down in New York and New Jersey. I heard the Gowanus Canal lapped right up to Buzzfeed reporter Rosie Gray’s doorstep in Brooklyn. Is she eligible for the prize, by the way?”

“No. Prize is a signed – and paw-printed – copy of A Fistful of Collars and the winning Friend of the Month is displayed for the entire month in the special place over on the right where Fragment is now. Easy, fun, and we’ll throw in a free hiking vacation in the Carpathian mountains.”*

* All 100% true except for the Carpathian mountains part.

Welcome Ginger & Stormy.

Shakespeare And Sandy

“Anything to say about the hurricane?” Spence says.

“How about we let Shakespeare speak for us?” says Admin. “Hard to top him when it comes to saying just about anything.”

(From King Lear, Act 3, Scene 2)

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o’ the world!
Crack nature’s moulds, all germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man!

“That’s like a little word hurricane all by itself,” says Spence.

Welcome Doug, Annie & Tracker, Grizzly.

No Post Today

“Why not?” says Admin.

“Shouldn’t we battening down the hatches?” Spence says.

“We don’t have any hatches.”

“Also none of those basement window covers. I was thinking you might pick some up on your coffee run.”

“Grumble.”

Globalization, International Economics, And Us: From A Fistful Of Collars

The next thing I knew we were on our way to the yard at the back of Nixon’s Championship Autobody. One of his guys was spraypainting a picture of a curvy woman on a black fender.

“More tit, Ruy,” Nixon said as we went by. “What’s wrong with you?”

Ruy raised his mask. “Sorry, boss.”

We kept going. “Can’t get good help,” Nixon said. “What’s going to happen to this country? We’re competing in the global marketplace.”

“Maybe the big breast thing isn’t as important overseas,” Bernie said.

“Talk sense, Bernie,” Nixon said.

Today, 2-3, Boston Book Festival: Peter Abrahams is on a panel discussing middle-grade mysteries, Boston Public Library, McKim Lower.