The Depressed Dog

The Power of Microbiology

There was once a veterinarian who loved to hack gene sequences. One day he successfully grafted pieces of cantaloupe DNA to the DNA of a dog zygote.

The engineered zygote soon developed into a little puppy. The result was far less dramatic than one might expect. The animal was recognizably canine, if tiny and rolly poly. Its fur had an overall orange tint. The vet raised the puppy to adulthood and all was generally fine, though the animal was rather small and rotund. The veterinarian noticed that his dog was becoming lethargic and increasingly morose. Being concerned with the animal’s overall health and mental well-being, the vet tried many things to cure his dog’s apparent depression. After all, he felt guilty that its rowing languishment could be the direct result of his genetic experimentation. He tried altering the animal’s diet, its exercise, and its play, but nothing seemed to help.

Finally, he took the dog to an animal psychiatrist. The vet sat in the waiting room while the orange tinted dog was in with the animal counselor.

Finally, the door opened, and the veterinarian rose to his feet. The psychiatrist came out with the dog. “Tell me, Doctor. What’s wrong?

Is my dog going to be okay?”

“Don’t worry, Doctor. He’ll be fine. He’s just a little melon collie.”

The blogger has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

The Netherlands Flag

photo of the pyramids at sunrise

The sun rises over the Egyptian plain

The Netherlands Flag

A visitor from Holland was chatting with his American friend and was jokingly explaining about the red, white and blue in
the Netherlands flag.

“Our flag symbolizes our taxes,” he said. “We get red when we talk about them, white when we get our tax bill, and blue
after we pay them.”

“That’s the same with us,” the American said, “only we see stars, too.”

capiture of a ups driver making a delivery

A UPS driver making a delivery to a beautiful blonde

The blogger has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

Women of the World,Unite

photo of sail boats

Sail Boat Races in Antigua

Women of the World – Unite!

Take all American women who are within five years of menopause – train us for a few weeks, outfit us with automatic weapons, grenades, gas masks, moisturizer with SPF15, Prozac, hormones, chocolate, and canned tuna -drop us (parachuted, preferably) across the landscape of Afghanistan, and let us do what comes naturally.

Think about it. Our anger quotient alone, even when doing standard stuff like grocery shopping and paying bills, is formidable enough to make even armed men in turbans tremble.

We’ve had our children, we would gladly suffer or die to protect them and their future. We’d like to get away from our husbands if they haven’t left already. And for those of us who are single, the prospect of finding a man with whom to share life is about as likely as being struck by lightning. We have nothing to lose.

We’ve survived the water diet, the protein diet, the carbohydrate diet, the cabbage soup diet and the grapefruit diet in gyms and saunas across America and never lost a pound. We can easily survive months in the hostile terrain of Afghanistan with no food at all!

We’ve spent years tracking down our husbands or lovers in bars, hardware stores, or sporting events…finding bin Laden in some cave will be no problem.

Uniting all the warring tribes of Afghanistan in a new government? Oh, please … we’ve planned the seating arrangements for in-laws and extended families at Thanksgiving dinners for years … we understand tribal warfare.

Between us, we’ve divorced enough husbands to know every trick there is for how they hide, launder, or cover up bank accounts and money sources.
We know how to find that money and we know how to seize it … with or without the government’s help!

Let us go and fight. The Taliban hates women. Imagine their terror as we crawl like ants with hot-flashes over their godforsaken terrain. I’m going to write my Congresswoman. You should, too!

The blogger has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

Yo Quiero Liver and Cheese

Yo Quiero Liver and Cheese

The Taco Bell Chihuahua, a Doberman, and a Bulldog are in a doggie bar having a cool drink when a good-looking
female Collie comes up to them and says, “Whoever can creatively say liver and cheese in a sentence can have
me.”

So, the Doberman quickly says, “I love liver and cheese.”

The Collie remarks, “That’s just not good enough.”

The Bulldog says, “I hate liver and cheese.”

The Collie remarks, “That’s not creative.”

Finally, the Chihuahua speaks out, “Liver alone…
cheese mine.”

The blogger has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

The Birthday Present

photo of aboriginal rock art

Ancient aboriginal rock art

What, No Birthday Present?

A Jewish gentleman, fresh out of gift ideas, bought his mother-in-law a large plot in an expensive cemetery.

On her next birthday, he bought her nothing. She was quick to comment loud and long on his thoughtlessness.

“Well, you haven’t used the gift I gave you last year.”

Memories from yesteryear

photo fo two people, a child and an adult looking at a sunset over the ocean

Life was a lot slower and simpler in the fifties and sixties.

The blogger has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

Silence Isn’t Always Golden

capiture of a ups driver making a delivery

A UPS driver making a delivery to a beautiful blonde

Silence Isn’t Always Golden

Once upon a time there was a Prince who, through no fault of his own was cast under a spell by an evil witch. The curse was that the Prince could speak only one word each year. However, he could save up the words so that if he did not speak for a whole year, then the following year he was allowed to speak two words. (This was before the time of letter writing or sign language.)

One day he met a beautiful princess (ruby lips, golden hair, sapphire eyes,) and fell madly in love. With the greatest difficulty, he decided to refrain from speaking for two whole years so that he could look at her and say “my darling”. But at the end of the two years, he wished to tell her that he loved her. Because of this, he waited three more years without speaking (bringing the total number of silent years to 5).

But at the end of these five years, he realized that he had to ask her to marry him. So he waited ANOTHER four years without speaking.

Finally, as the ninth year of silence ended, his joy knew no bounds.
Leading the lovely princess to the most secluded and romantic place in that beautiful royal garden the prince heaped a hundred red roses on her lap, knelt before her, and taking her hand in his, said huskily, “My darling, I love you! Will you marry me?”

And the princess tucked a strand of golden hair behind a dainty ear, opened her sapphire eyes in wonder, and parting her ruby lips, said:
“Pardon?”

A picture of the U.S. Capitol building

The blogger has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

It’s Gotta Be The Shorts:Dealing With Unions

 

capiture of a ups driver making a delivery

A UPS driver making a delivery to a beautiful blonde

Written By; Gary Wonning

All UPS employees were required to join the Teamsters Union. I had never been a strong union person but it wasn’t a real big issue for me until the following year. In 1968 there was a major strike at the largest industry in Batesville Indiana.

Some issues needed to be resolved and bordered on being inhumane. The company was unbending and left with little choice, the union called a strike. It was a relatively small union and most employees didn’t belong to it.

At the time, judging by the way everything all came down, I thought the union saw this as an opportunity to make a name for themselves.

It got ugly real quick. Hench men were soon cavorting around in the late evening hours shooting at and dynamiting homes of management and others who decided to work. It was common to hear gunfire and explosions as darkness fell, and late into the night.

My dad worked at the company as an hourly employee, he honored the strike and saw a need for it, and he never crossed the picket line. After about two weeks of this nonsense, he had enough, some of his friends’ homes were getting shot at.

He was one to never back down from anyone and out of a desire to not support something he didn’t believe in, he decided to go to work and support his friends and buddies. Many of these people who were getting shot at he had known all his life and were like family to him.

A neighbor lady decided to go back to work also. Dad had a little Corvair at the time, so for whatever reason, they decided to cross the picket line in that little car. Approaching the picket line, he floored the little bug and cranked the steering wheel as hard as he could and slammed on the brakes. He slid sideways through the picket line. Obviously, the picketers weren’t too happy as they scrambled out of the way of the tiny missile.

I was not living at home anymore, but a couple of nights later, my parents’ home was hit with gunfire, some of which went through the living room picture window and became lodged in the wall. If someone had been in the room they could have been killed.

My little brother, who was fourteen at the time, went to get the mail at the end of the driveway the next day and picked up something lying by the mailbox. Not knowing what it was he brought it in the house, it was three sticks of unexploded dynamite.

My opinion of unions declined rapidly and I even considered quitting so I didn’t have to belong to an organization that tried to kill my family.

I decided to stick it out, my quitting wouldn’t solve anything and it was a good job. I didn’t belong to the same union that created the havoc; I would just handle the union issues on my own and not support them any more than I had to. I soon learned to solve my issues on my own, like my dad had taught me when I was a small whippersnapper.

I soon learned that in most cases the only people they really helped were the ones who were looking for a reason to need the union, and in many cases only protected the jobs of those who should have been fired.

The only time we ever saw a union representative was before a political election. They would drive the two hundred miles from Chicago and tell us how to vote. We would then tell them we knew how to vote and gave them directions back to Chicago.

I did make good money and enjoyed excellent benefits, but UPS paid top wages and benefits before the union became involved. They paid top dollar, even during the depression. Their belief was that they would pay good money, but they asked for a good day’s work in return. I see nothing wrong with that.

And I knew, if things ever turned ugly, the union would do the same thing that happened in Batesville in 1968.

In the end, people who work for a large corporation need some sort of representation, conflicts do come up, and for now the union seems to be the only answer, and I did benefit from having a union job.

As with everything in life, there are good points and not so good points.

photo of a distinguished older gentleman

Wisdom lost through the ages, common sense is no longer common.

The author has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

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