Sunday 16 June 2013

Common sense
Dachshund Dancing Duo Dachshund Art
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Mr Practical Matters had two adorable little dachshunds, aptly named Sound Judgment and Good Sense, aka Common and Sense.
These musketeers were like three peas in a pod – on the same wavelength and on the same page. They even went to the same party. Granted, it was not a very exciting party at all, as all three very level headed. But it was a party nonetheless and, most importantly, the same one!
They never sweated the small stuff, did not get bogged down by unnecessary details, not once did they stoop to analysis paralysis. They did not get side-tracked, it was impossible to lead them up the garden path and they were oblivious to the charms of even the most accomplished of red herrings. They did not nit-pick, and instinctively knew how to separate the weed from the chaff. Under all circumstances they stuck to the facts of the matter, their minds were clear, their eyes fixed on the scoreboard ... They were just SO cool, calm and collected, unanimously coming to the same, logical conclusion – always.
Once Practical Matters, who thought he was safe in the privacy of his own study, did succumb to the temptation of vociferously praising, lauding and applauding his two little acolytes for their sound judgment and good sense under even the most trying circumstances. Common and Sense were overcome by this rather unexpected accolade and started dancing around on their hind legs, wagging their tails, rolling their eyes and flapping their tongues. They even took hands and did a little jig.
In a touching grand finale, Common jumped onto the window sill, opened the window with a flourish and was just about to burst into joyous song, when he was intercepted by a passer-by, who suddenly belted out: “How much is that doggy in the window?”
And then Common and Sense went to pieces very, very quietly …



Sunday 9 June 2013

"Don't throw out the baby with the bathwater"

                                            


Long, long ago in  ancient Petlokatapolovski, a whole generation of particularly nasty little baby boys saw the light – courtesy of the God of War, Strife, Conflict and General Nastiness. Right from the start they drove their poor mothers up the wall, their dads to drink, and their sisters, uncles, aunts, cousins and grandparents, not to mention pets, animals (indeed all things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small) up the creek …

Eventually the exhausted mothers were on the verge of a massive, nationwide breakdown. They tried everything to calm down the boisterous blighters, apart from corporal punishment, that is, as they were mortally afraid of their offensive offspring. After tearing their hair out, beating their breasts, pouring ash over their heads, they decided unanimously to throw their babies, with the horribly dirty bathwater, into all the rivers criss-crossing the ancient land, so that the kids could have a romp with the crocodiles, alligators, hippopotami and, of course, the odd dinosaur. The mothers desperately needed an hour or two to rest, recuperate and gather their strength for the next round of mothering.

But alas and alack, these indomitable infants terrorised and traumatised the mighty river creatures to such an extent that a massive, thunderous roar went up in  ancient Petlokatapolovski, reaching the furthest corners of the land, echoing and reverberating from rock and mountain top: “MOTHERS, PLEASE OH PLEASE, DON’T THROW YOUR BABIES OUT WITH THE BATHWATER!”