Warning labels.

 

For a long time I've been annoyed with bumper stickers, even if I agree with their sentiments -- but most of the time I don't. They're either bragging or threatening violence, or just being rude. Isn't there enough rudeness as it is?

Worst, of course, are the political loons who are determined to stick something with their cause on every exposed quarter-inch of the car. But that at least serves a purpose -- as a warning label.

For a long time I've thought that people ought to come with warning labels. Some are provided by nature -- red hair, for example. (I know, I know -- just because I had universally bad luck with redheads doesn't mean they're all crazy or evil. Maybe it means they have good taste!)

Nowadays people are thoughtfully providing their own warning labels so you know who the crazy ones are. Weird hair color, bizarre tattoos and lots of 'em, industrial size hunks of metal as piercings -- all these are as helpful as a pantload of poop to identify people with whom you want to maintain distance. 

If that's how they want to express themselves, that's A-OK. We believe that free speech is a right that comes from the God that made us. I, of course, expect the same protection of my right.

It would be a different case in the fictional nation of Fredtopia, where Benevolent King Fred rules with a kindly philosophy but an iron fist. Automobiles would be permitted no more than three bumper stickers. They could have any message they wanted -- Down with King Fred, Fred = Jerkface, King Fred Shags Wildebeest -- that's where the benevolent side comes in. But the presence of a fourth bumper sticker means a twenty-four-hour warning to remove one. If the offending excess sticker remains, the car is impounded, stickers above the number three removed by random selection, and the car returned upon receipt of the appropriate fine. Repeat offenders will face escalating fines and points on their licenses. 

Benevolent but firm. 

In other words, King Fred's message is: While we appreciate your freedom of speech, the Crown will remove signs of public insanity in the interest of keeping the peace. 

 

On that note, King Fred would also have unmuffled vehicles policed. Your car or pickup runs at 100 decibels, you get three days to muffle that bastard. On day four the vehicle is impounded and used for trebuchet practice. Silence, like the Crown, is golden. 

PSA from the dog #2.

Hello, friends. It's me again. The dog.

Friends, I'd like to talk to you today about a horrible scourge that is destroying civilization. I am, of course, referring to this:

Yes, the "No Dogs" sign. Placed there to tell you that your playful little chum, your furry little companion, is not welcome at this establishment. That they hate your fuzzy little buddy so much they would draw a red circle line thingie over him.

What kind of a mean person would do a thing like that?

Friends, let's face it: Hard as it is to believe, some people don't like dogs. They don't understand how important it is to have your wee merry canine pal with you! They say, "No dogs in restaurants, you stupid dog lover!" They say, "Remove that beast from the library, you illiterate nincompoop!" They say, "Hey! This is the operating room! Get that dog out of here!"

How can they expect you to recover from your surgery without your puppy to cheer you? To remind you how much he needs you? Don't they know dogs help people recover from trauma and nuttiness? It's true! Purina says so!

Friends, we pups would never suggest you go and actually punch restaurant owners, health inspectors, supermarket managers, allergists, and other anti-dog types in the nose. We just ask you, with our soulful puppy eyes, to not frequent such establishments that post signs like the one above. In time, maybe they'll come around. Or we can bite them.

Thank you for listening friends! And remember:

A no-dogs sign you should see 
Then send your dog to go and pee 
On it. 

This has been a public service announcement from the dog.

Rebel jerk.

Sometimes I wonder how a free people who are supposed to be able to handle themselves responsibly could let things get this far.

"Do Not Eat."

Thanks.

And here I thought it was a breath mint, a little something at the bottom of the bag to freshen up after wolfing down all that jerky.

Silica gel packs, included in everything from jerky to vitamins to new shoes, are nontoxic, so munch all you want! Well, probably a poor idea, since they are made of sand and quartz and included to absorb moisture. They may also include a dye that could be sickening.

There's a part of me that wants to chomp on one just because they said not to---that Fred, he's a rebel---but I've resisted. So far.

But aside from us renegades, who needs to be told not to eat this stuff? Babies don't have the sense to not eat objects, but they can't read anyway. So there goes Baby, eating away at the jerky, and he comes to the silica packet. Well, he can't read, can he? In it goes!

What about blind people? Aren't they entitled to eat jerky? Should the warning be written in braille?

Why don't they put that same warning on other things? It appears we can't be trusted to figure this stuff out. God knows there are plenty of things you shouldn't eat---bowling balls, shoe polish, nails, pipe fittings. Some of them, like the cotton in pill bottles and the lid on yogurt, also come in food. Shouldn't they be labeled DO NOT EAT?

On another topic, if I got a few hundred boxes of these packs, and piled them around the house, would that lower the humidity in the summer?

Well, that's basically what DampRid is for, and I've put a few of those around with no noticeable effect, although I expect it would work well in small spaces like boats and closets and bathrooms and cellars. But not the whole house. So I guess using however many Do Not Eat packets wouldn't help the house either.

Another advantage of DampRid is that it doesn't come in food, so I won't consume it in my feeding frenzy. I haven't noticed the words DO NOT EAT on the side of the tub, so I haven't been tempted to go at it with a big spoon. Yet.

Yep, I'm a rebel and I'll never ever be any good.

Live and let dive.

We got a little wading pool for our extra-large puppy, Tralfaz. He's a cold-weather fellow, and summer has come as something of a shock to him. So we got this nice plastic pool. It's a cooling spot and a chew toy all in one!

It's about eight inches deep, as you can see by my scientificy measurement. So it can hold about six inches' depth of water.

I was surprised by some of the instructions:

See that? No diving! No jumping! "Do not dive into this pool. Diving into shallow water can result in a broken neck, paralysis, or death."

I can understand the warnings about watching children and emptying the pool; toddlers can drown in very little water. And electrocution, yes, that can happen with the kinds of things people keep outside during a pool party or barbecue, like boom boxes. But diving?

Most of us have no temptation to become the next Professor Splash, the amazing fellow who can fall 36 feet into 12 inches of water. If you watch the video at the link you'll see he actually does a belly flop, not a dive, so he's landing flat on the surface of the water rather than piercing it. But don't try that either.

Here I should write about how idiots and their obliging lawyers are ruining the country by doing moronic things, getting hurt, and suing everything in sight, turning us into petrified wusses instead of grown men and women who know better than to pull a David Boudia into an eight-inch-deep pool. So we wind up with instructions on the handles of chef's knives that say DO NOT PUT IN EYEBALL. (Not yet, no, but give it time.)

Anyway, don't worry about Tralfaz. He is absolutely terrified of the pool and won't go near it, full or empty. Another ten bucks down the toilet. Dogs are the second craziest species I know.