Evil Little Dog Found A Bone .....

  The other day this was. Nice, sunny day. Promise of Spring. Just before it turned into fucking Alaska ....!

  Anyway, yeah. I looked out there and saw Evil Little Dog, my Jack Russell, digging around with something by the fence line.

  " What ye got there, Evil Little Dog? Show me. "

  'Got a bone, Dad. I found it. Now I'm gonna gnaw this mother fucker like there's no tomorrow!'

  Well, I've got a look at that bone and wondered. Frankly. It wasn't ye standard bit of rib bone. Nor was it a leg bone. Sort of shit a person might throw to a Dog. And an Evil Little Dog find and steal.

  My grave yard Did cross my mind, to be honest. But, I bury my Dogs deep enough that nothing in its right mind would be digging that far, now, for old bones.

   I don't think Evil Little Dog would bother.  She vanishes, night and day. She's allowed to. Because she's too small to seriously bother a cow. And she's ~ obviously ~ too fucking small to fence in.

  Anyway, she had this bone. Up to her. But, I told her how I needed her indoors now. All of them in. I had shit to do. She could bring her bone and shit would have to sort itself out.

  I dropped her in here, with the others. I had work to do, other side of the door.  I'd hear, if hell broke out. Four Dogs? One bone? 

  Know what? I had to come in here, at some point. Grab something I needed out there. And Pesticle's showing me the bone she now has. Happily chewing and sucking on it. Not a care in the world.
Evil Little Dog's now in her box. Snugly snoozing.

  Maybe half an hour later, I'm back in here again. And there's le fucking Dinger. Mouthing a somewhat reduced bit of bone. Only, he drops it, down the back of the bed,

  Niggie Dog tries to help le Ding dig it out. But, that's not gonna happen. So, I reach under the pallet and fetch this spitty lump of bone out.

  " Here ye go, Dingo Dog. " I say. " I reckon ye've about had ye share of this. Let's let the Nigger have his share. "  And I gave the lump to Niggie. (Munch, munch, munch)

  See what I'm saying there? No claims of Dog Trainer. Let alone 'Dog fucking Whisperer'.  This lot really has fuck all to do with me. It's my Dogs.

  Left to themselves, look, my two ridiculously disparate bitches ~ an American Bulldog and a Jack Russell. And the Dingo Dog and Nigger. They've just sorted their shit out.


  How about I introduce them to the concept of " God " ? For fuck sake ..... See what happens then.

There Is A God .....

And he's watching us!

In the supermarket today. With my stick. Back's still crucifying me.

Got to the checkout and paid for my bits. The girl's dashed off to do something else and a glints caught my eye. There, far below me, lays a one Euro coin. Think of it as a quid.

No point in calling the girl back then. She'd probably just dismiss it. It certainly wasn't my quid. I hadn't dropped it. So, I thought about it for a second and started slowly, rather riskily, squatting down towards it. Hanging onto my stick like grim death.

Got the bugger and started my accent. As I came up level with the counter, I saw the charity box there and popped this quid in. Civic duty done, I fucked off on about my business. Staggering, slightly zombie like, and glad of my strong staff for support. End of story.


And there I am, wincing and flinching, as I hobble over the cross roads and back towards the pub which is my 'Home Base From Home'. And, just before I get there, lo and behold! I'm only looking at a fucking Twenty quid note! Right there, all screwed up on the pavement before me! I shit ye not!

Down I go again. Clamber back up my pole, like some geriatric fucking monkey. Score grasped tightly in my mitt.

Back in the warmth of the bar, I lever myself onto my stool and regale 'The Lads' with the little story I've just told ye there. Usual response, of course; " Oh! Is that the twenty note I've just dropped, outside? " 'Yes, James; It has ye fucking name written on it!'. Good humour all round.

Then, the Landlord returns, from pouring a pint. I give him the abridged version of my bit of luck and loosen my fist to show him the twenty ..... and, as I so do, I wonder if I'm not mistaken. It now looks decidedly more gray than blue ....?!

Fuck Me! There's only a fuckin Fiver wrapped inside the score note!!!

How happy a bunny am I then? That's my trip into town paid for. Then God's' bought me my pint, look. And I still have a fuckin' Euro left in change! Not a bad return, eh?

Pocketed that original quid and I'd probably have collapsed in a fucking heap, half way back to the pub and in some dark bloody corner!

One only hopes that the guy who lost the 25 was some youngster who'll go out and get smashed tonight. Not knowing, by tomorrow, what he'd spent anyway. I expect what ever powers there might be had something in mind all along ;-)

400 Dogs Seized in US Dog Fighting Bust

Fucks me! Have ye heard about this? Plug " Missouri dog fighting " into Google News. Jesus! They reckon it's been the biggest bust in US history. I think we'd have heard about a bigger one by now, no?

Seems they now have up to 400 Dogs, mainly Pit Bulls, locked up in a warehouse. They're crying out for volunteers to come help with their day to day care. I mean, imagine it? Four Hundred ready to go Pit Bulls?! Jesus christ; One slip and things would get 'Emotional', as the great man would say.

Seems they have 'Green Areas' to exercise the pooches. Can ye imaging that? Five. Ten. Twenty at a time? Each walker having to time their coming out the door just right. Everyone having to keep ten foot between them and the next guy. That's got to make for one tense situation. It's not like they're walking Greyhounds, in loads of six at a time, is it? That place must be run like fucking Broadmoor!

I know what I'm talking about too. I live with One Dog who can't ever be allowed to get at the other three. So, Every Day it's chain Him up. Put Them in there. Shut that door. Lock that door. Shut this door. Open that cage. Bring her out. Open that door ~ where are the horses? If they're in view, watch it! Stay absolutely focused and alert for as long as she wants to snuffle about in my compound. Then guide her back, past le Ding, and send her back into her cage.

That's stressful. If each worker there has to do that five, ten times a day? Fuck. No wonder they only ask ye to come for a week. Ye'd be mentally strung out by the end of it. And that's when ye could make a mistake. I wouldn't know about 'Organised' Dog Fights. But it's sure as hell no fun when it goes off and you're the only bastard there. No good just standing there, wishing it wasn't happening.

And now they have to 'Evaluate' all these Dogs. This I find sad. Because the 'experts' doing this will only have their own experience and thus limitations to work with. One Dog hits the fence when they come near its pen? That Dog'll be marked down to die. Dog shows obvious signs of wanting (Needing) to go, when it sees another Dog? That Dog will die too.

This is doubly sad. Because God could turn those Dogs around. He could save them. Turn them into perfect little Doggy citizens and send them off to happy and safe lives. Only those sort of people don't like to talk to the likes of God. They think they know it all already. So they have what they can't handle killed.

I'll tell ye about God, one of these days. I'm proud to say he's a friend of mine. Lives in Illinois, so he's actually not that far, in the scheme of things, from where this has all gone down. Who knows?

But, how did they come to round up Four Hundred Dogs? This is where it gets surreal! They're saying some fucking idiot who's been bang at it for Twelve Years turned Super Grass, two or three years back! This guy's been vouching for under cover agents and introducing them to his 'friends'! Getting them invited along to proper Matches, the whole fucking deal!

Now, in my time I've got about as close to the game, perfectly legitimately and openly, as a man could do, without getting my hands dirty. I knew who and what was what ~ information freely given, under complete trust. Only, I made my notes perfectly openly. I was told names to write down. Even shown photo's and introduced to the people. Because I was working for Them.

As it happens, my own guide had been involved for ten years himself. He was a very well known Face. The point I'm trying to make here is that, had He been 'bent' or had I, god forbid, have been prepared to betray his trust in me? FFS! Either of our lives wouldn't have been worth shit! I mean; The people in that game Know who the Faces are. It's not like this grass can now walk amongst them saying, " I wonder who that grass is?! "

And this is what I find so mind boggling. What in gods name ever possessed this guy to do that?! I mean, it's not quite like the fucking Mafia. Ye want to quit the game? Ye sell up ye Dogs and sit watching tv. Answer the phone and say no, sorry, ye don't fancy it any more. The wife's breaking ye balls and ye decided to leave it. It happens. People accept it.

But why the fuck go round setting up the people ~ and their Dogs ~ who ye've shared that absolute bond of trust with, for over a fucking decade? What in hell happened inside that guys mind that he couldn't just walk away. Couldn't even just settle some personal score with someone else, or what ever. He decided to spend two years and more, going to great lengths, stiching up so many people. Why?

That, to me, is at the very heart of this story. What The Fuck happened there?!

This Poxy Fucking Weather!!! (Űber Rant!)

I was talking to my sister, last night. She's been away for a month so I'd heard nothing. Last night she told me how they're backing in an immense heat wave?! FFS! I told her to look out for what we're having. Constant, torrential, unbelievable fucking Monsoons!

This may be Eire. But it's fucking July, for chris'sake! Yep. Just glanced out the window right then; It's raining. Not hard ~ not yet! ~ in fact, I could hardly see it at first. But the ground's all soaking wet and, sure enough, as my old eyes focused, I could see the pelting rain drops. They're gathering in strength even as I write this. Here we go Again!

I don't like to moan ~ No. Seriously! ~ but, this is just fucking stupid! I mean, shit like this matters to us, out here in the country. We live by the pulse and rythms of nature. Not because we're some tree hugging, good lifing bunch of wankers keeping chickens we refer to as our 'Girls', and calling vermin " Mr Rat ". We don't. I don't even have any chickens. I call rats a potential job. And what I get up to in the privacy of my own home is nothing to do with you fuckers anyway!

But, we tend to hole up in winter. Winter, out on the bogs, really Is just about down to survival and getting by. We get damn cold. So, we use shit loads of fuel. Days are shorter than hell, so we work like men posessed to just get the everyday chores done. Cleaning out our animals and dragging in stored fuel can amount to a days practical work in those times.

And the winds come. Good ones we may refer to as a " Tin Tester ". Because so much of what we have here is made of 'Tin'. Corrugated Iron is the back bone of rural Co. Leitrim. (Come to think of it? I don't know if Any part of Leitrim isn't rural?!) And those winds, combined with the cold and the rains will sorely test what ever we have. Sheets get lifted. Gutterings buckle. Drains block. Leaks appear. Half of it goes gradually to rat shit as we hunker down and sit it out.

Then the summer comes. Out we all dash, into the bright sunshine. Only, no fucking sun bathing for us! No. Apart from the fact that the fucking Clags (Horse Flies to you) would eat us alive if we tried. There's just no time. See; We have gutterings to fix. Tin sheets to replace. Leaks to sort out. Loads of stuff to repaint. Hay fodder to harvest. Fuel to gather, cut and store, ready for the next round of this never ending battle.

And now ye see why I'm so pissed off? This, basically, constant, unremmiting rain since ..... god knows when it was last Not raining for any appreciable length of time? This rain means we can't get Shit done around here! My gutterings are simply ~ and quite literally ~ breaking down around me. Down pipes are fracturing and bursting open. Horizontals, unable to cope, are over flowing and drenching my walls. Those walls are Desperate for the paint I planned to, now long to, give them. But it's fucking pissing it down here, day and night.

Now; Make my fucking day. Tell me This is " Natural "! I had That shit off Dean O', just the other night. FFS. We were having a sly fag, out the back of the pub and, naturally, the fucking heavens opened. I said something about, " And still the fuckers say Global Climate Change is as normal, recorded and expected as night and day. Well, This shit ain't fucking Normal. Not on the first of fucking July! "

Oh no? Hell, I hit a wrong button there! Dean O', self styled " Man Of Science " just sort of hung his head and went into some weird kind of fucking robotic voiced litany! Some shit like; " It Is natural nothing's wrong it's all been recorded before it's like the Ice Age we've had it before it'll come again there has been global climatic variation since The Big Bang this is all a conspiracy governments are making big money out of all this by telling people it's man caused man can't cause this it's just natural ..... "

I'm just sat there, listening to this shit in open mouthed amazement! The guy's going on like a fucking parrot! Every word so patently obviously learned, by rote, from some fucking web site somewhere. He was actually droning! Didn't have to think what he was saying - god forbid he should. Then maybe he too would realise what unsubstantiated, unsubstantiable, utter shit he was coming out with!

I mean, this is a youngster, less than half my age. By his own free admission, he's not really aware of ever having had a cognative thought during a time when a computer wasn't there in his life. So, he wasn't even Born when it all started to break down. When I remember the wrong birds starting to sing at the wrong times of year, as the wrong plants came into bloom. My mate, 'Man of Science' wasn't even born then. But now he's telling me this is all quite normal? Because a web site told him so?

Uh huh. Like a web site will tell us Lee Harvey Oswald took out JFK. That the Yanks had men walk on the moon, flags 'n all. That scientists ~ just last year, wasn't it? This year even? ~ replicated " The Big Bang ".

Well now; I was told, as a kid, that some cunt called " God ", who was Always there - and don't you Dare question that! - one day decided to make 'Man'. So he made one out of clay. Then he ripped one of his ribs out and turned that into a woman, tits 'n all. Man fucked woman and they had two sons. One son killed the other fucker. Then, one can only imagine, had twos up on Mum and god alone knows who fucked the resultant offspring! Da Daaaa! The whole damn human race is born! Bet I could find a web site purporting That shit to the hilt too! FFS!

No. Ye'll have to forgive my cynicsism here, people. Only I'm just a simple man. I listened to all that 'God' shit and saw it for what is is; A load of bollocks one's supposed to just choke down and live with. No Questions Asked. I see much of what modern " Science " tries to palm off on us in much the same way.

" They recreated The Big Bang. " Says who? The fucking 'Sun' ? And how does the Sun know? Because a guy calling hiself a 'scientist' told them? Sent them photo's of a load of pipes in a huge 'Laboratory' and said that's what they were doing there? Were We around at the time of the first " Big Bang "? No. So, as they weren't either; How the fuck do they know Anything they might have figured they'd did Was anything like a real Big Bang? Bollocks!

Now, it's stopped raining now. But it'll come again. Experience of all this is teaching me that. And it's natural? It's all happened before so shall happen again? Like the Ice Age?

Listen, you cunts; When I look out there and see a herd of Wooley Fucking Mammoths cavorting on the home acre, or maybe a Brontosaurus wallowing in the bog? Maybe then I'll treat the sort of shit our Dean O' puts such faith in with a bit more credance.

Right now, I'm gonna dash out there and grab a quick inventory of how much new guttering I need to buy. Though, fuck knows when I'll get a chance to put it up, without drowning myself!


There. Is there Anyone I haven't upset, in some way, with some part of that? Fuck the lot of ye! The fuck else do ye come here for?!