I Don’t Care About Your Dog

I was trying to find a cheap pair of shoes at the stupid mall the other day and could’ve sworn I was at the Humane Society.  It seemed like every other person had a dog with them – dogs in sweaters, dogs in cutesy carry bags, dogs in special doggy strollers, dogs peeing on the Victoria’s Secret panty pyramid. Now I understand the special bond between human and canine – I’ve owned a few dogs in my life. However as Waylon Jennings once said, “Don’t ya’ll think this dog bit’s done got out of hand?”  Well, he didn’t say that exactly, but the spirit was there. 

Dogs have moved from the backyard to… well… everywhere!  They even had a banner at the damn swap meet proclaiming “We Are Dog Friendly!” Dogs are top news.  I was watching the news the other morning and they were describing a traffic accident – “A man and his two children were taken to the hospital and treated for minor injuries. Their dog escaped without injury.”  Really?  I don’t care about the damn dog.  Hell, I don’t really care about the accident either.

What has happened that has caused society to vault dogs into pampered child status?  Is it the ever present fashion-pooch in the clutches of every pseudo TV celebutard?  Is it folks without children projecting their need to be a parent onto an animal? Or is it that people have finally caved in with guilt after watching that sad puppy/kitty infomercial with Sarah McLachlan and contributed to “the cause?”

I don’t know the answer, but I do know I’m sick of it.  Cute rain coats, fancy sunglasses and mini motorcycles with training wheels do not make your dog a human.  Unless you’re blind or taking a happy lab to a hospital to cheer up sick people, leave the dog at home! 

I guess what I’m really trying to say is, I don’t want to see your precious labradoodle pumping out a steamer while I’m trying to eat my dipping dots at the food court… Come On!

Cigareetes, Whuskey, And Wild, Wild Women

I pushed my way to the bar to order a beer and as I went to grab a napkin, I saw her.  She was just a few stools down, alone, stirring some kind of fizzy blue drink.  Her long auburn hair was messy like she just got out of bed, which was strangely attractive.  Her dress was straight out the Amvets store, natty and only one of many layers – combatting a sweater, scarfs and some kind of pirate/Batman utility belt thing.  Whatever, she was kinda cute. As she looked up I caught her eye… just one.  I realized she had one of those koogle problems where one eye looked right when the other looked left.  Disturbing.  Was she actually looking at me or the bartender?  Oh well, I went for it anyway.  I moved over to her and pointed toward the fizzy blue drink, “You want another one of those?” She turned her good eye to me and replied, “Somebody just left this thing here.  Actually I’m a Beam drinker.  How about a whiskey rocks?” We were off to the races…

It’s an old story, yet it refuses to fade away.  Let’s go to the old Nightclub jukebox and plug a quarter in. I think selection J-12 is appropriate…

Super Sexy UFC?

Is the Ultimate Fighting Championship homoerotic?  Screw gun control and the fiscal cliff, this is the big question on my mind lately. I was having lunch with a friend the other day and the restaurant had a UFC match on.  I said, “Is it just me or is this UFC stuff kinda gay?” She said, “Funny you should say that because my husband loves it and I told him it was too homoerotic for me.  He got really upset and said it was the manliest sport there is!” After that conversation I started asking everyone I talked to about their opinion on the matter.  The result?  100% of those asked, both male and female, gay and straight, concurred the UFC is really gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that).   

Some responses:

“Of course it’s gay. Move #3 is called the ‘Iron Teabag.’”

“Oh for sure, those guys sniff more ass than a German Shepherd!”

“Dude, I wouldn’t be surprised if they bring costumes into that sport soon.  My bet for the first match is Cher Vs. Cop with Mustache.”

I don’t really watch the stuff myself.  It’s kind of like watching the Joe Theisman Injury over and over. But how say you?

Hello Friends...

Hello Friends and welcome to Tom’s Nightclub, the blog that used to be a radio show (such a common occurrence).  The Nightclub show originally aired on San Diego station 91X in the early to mid 90's. The setting was a pseudo-live broadcast from a non-existent club, complete with canned crowd noise, visits from the maintenance man, health department and various drunks.  Regular rotation songs from Radiohead and Nirvana butted up against classics from Frankie Lane and Peggy Lee. It was a simpler time. A magical era when anything was possible, like bringing your own booze onto a plane.

As this is the first posting, perhaps a mission statement is in order. I won’t bore you with a rambling manifesto, but will break it down bullet point style. 

This page will focus on:

• Music: old, new, brilliant and craptastic
• Pop Culture
• Minor Rants (usually focused on Pilates Moms, Dudes with Mustaches, and People who think of Bacon as Culture)
• Occasional Nuggets of Wisdom from people who have shoes older than you

That’s it – meat and potatoes. 

Let’s inaugurate this deal with our theme song … From 1967, Booker T. & The MG’s, “Hip Hug-Her.” It's good to see you back in The 'Club...