Dog Food V. Cat Food

So my friend's dog always eats my other buddy's cat's food. I'm left to ponder, are dog food and cat food any different? Granted, there is a difference in mass and size. But really, other than that, any difference at all? What's more, who's going to do a taste test? I could do a fair and accurate poll of my friend's pets. Somehow, I don't think they'll be able to articulate their opinions to me. And while we're on the subject, how does a company know they have the best pet foods? Do these companies have their own prestigious panel of taste testers? I can see it now, five or so intelligent looking fellows, sitting around a board room table with their lab coats on, swishing around some Alpo in their mouths. "I detect an earthy note, with some hints of marjoram and thyme." In conclusion, let me be perfectly honest with you. It's all about the paycheck. If some fool wants to pay me $80,000 a year to be a Meow Mix taster, I say bring it on. I'm your huckleberry.

The Christmas Solution

Some of you may be aware of this, but before I awoke this morning, I knew very little about Christmas outside the USA. It seems in many parts of Europe, Santa Claus has companions when he's delivering presents to children. Now, I know what you're thinking, but I'm not talking about red nosed caribou or Will Ferrell.

Father Christmas has backup and they do his dirty work for him.

Depending on where you live, Santa's minions come in the form of demons, trolls and devils. If you've been bad in the preceding year, these fellas will beat you with sticks, chains, whips, whatever. Now, of course, this is all stuff of legend. However, there is a town in Austria to this very day where a thousand or so young men dress up as these monsters, get tore-up drunk and hit girls with sticks. It sounds like a party at Chris Brown's house but allegedly, no one seems to mind.

All I'm saying is this: where's our trolls, our devils at Christmastime? Shouldn't mom and dad be able to call on someone (or something) to lay a giant smackdown on the little ones if they've been bratty? If anything, it could ease our economic burden. Parents could justify the beatings in lieu of gifts. It's almost as if you're writing off your child's ass-whoopin' on your taxes.

So there you go, America. The mighty euro can once again take it's rightful place behind the US Dollar. I just fixed our economy. Damn, I'm good.

By the way, if you want to see some proof of what I'm talking about, so you don't think I'm completely full of crap, click here.

Georgia vs. Georgia Tech 2009

I'm perplexed by something. After Georgia's improbable win last Saturday night, I can't help but notice how a bunch of Tech fans I know seem to acquiesce to defeat so easily. Don't worry yourselves, Tech fans. This Dawg fan is gonna pick you up a bit.

FACT: Georgia is 60-37-5 against Tech, good for a .619 win percentage. However, the series dominance hasn't come without it's struggles. From 1949-1956, UGA lost eight straight. Georgia has never beaten Tech eight years in a row. Granted, there have been two 7 game win streaks (2001-2007 & 1991-1997). While Georgia has two consensus National Championships (1942 & 1980), Tech has won four (1917, 1928, 1952 & 1990).

Here's the bottom line, Techies: Georgia's win Saturday night means exactly what for you? Absolutely nothing. Have fun at the Orange Bowl. Georgia will take care of business at the Snuggie/Slap Chop Bowl in West Cackalacky, Nowhere.

Shaving

For those of you who don't know me, I'm kind of a hairy guy. I certainly don't consider this a blessing. If I don't shave everyday, I look like a hobo. Whenever I see guys on TV or in the movies, some of them pull off the scruffy thing. For some reason, my face skips scruffy and goes straight to Planet of the Apes. I'd like to be scruffy, I really would. There is a statement made about a face that doesn't shave. It says, "I could shave, but I don't have to, because I'm that damn cool." Apparently, mine says, "Hey buddy, can you spare a dime?"

Greetings Friends

Welcome to my very first blog posting! I'm very happy to be writing to all of you. Thank you for reading and please continue to support my dream to express myself. My endeavors here will not be without you, the person sitting in front of the screen, giving me your somewhat undivided attention.

I've been searching for something. Like most of you, I question my purpose in life. "What am I here to do?" The answers have not come easily, and they continue to surface. Now I'm not saying it's my life's ambition to blog. Certainly not. Through these posts, I hope to start myself down a creative path, leading to... well... money, for one. That's probably not what you expected to hear. But let's be honest, I want to get paid. I'm not into freelance. I expect to write for a living someday and white picket fences don't grow on trees. I therefore consider this blog as an internship; a vehicle to get me where I want to go. I intend to drive this gravy train until the biscuit wheels fall off.

Now, let me warn you. I don't aspire to give you a weekly account into the Adventures of Patrick Orlando. This forum has no boundaries. I will write about anything: what annoys me, what makes me smile, what I ate for breakfast two weeks ago, robotic mascots, horribly disgusting things left on the side of the road, etc. I think you get the picture. I certainly don't devote these musings to utter crudeness. However, I reserve the right to say what I want, when I want. Colorful adjectives and expletives will be used here OCCASIONALLY. I can invoke my guttermouth gene when it suits me, but I don't want to alienate those of you that may be offended. I have alternate vocabulary that I can fall back on. Nevertheless, if you are under the age of 18, good sense dictates that you should beware what is said here, and go back to your game of Candy Land.

Now that we have that out of the way, allow me to say once more, thank you. I am truly going to enjoy writing to you. I'm sure you'll enjoy it as well. Until I write you again, I hope your stay at 1 Madman's Missive will be a pleasant one.