American Idol Brain Leakage

I got forced into watching the new American Idol last night. "Forced" is perhaps too strong a word, how about, "honey persuaded". As in, "Honey, you need to come in here and watch this.". Please note that "need" out of your loving fiancee's mouth isn't just a suggestion but a subtle prod to action with consequences for failure.

I can't ignore it, no matter how badly I'm trying to level up my level 62 hunter.

I'm not a fan of American Idol. Sorry, I just don't get drawn up into the whole celebrity fame thing. And I dislike it for another reason.

Have you ever sat and watch someone do something so stupid, embarassing or both and you felt embarassed too by witness association? Painful, cringing embarassment that you cannot stand to be watching what you are seeing for one moment longer and need to escape?

I do. It's why I avoid stuff like this.

Admittedly, it had its good parts. There are, in fact, a few decent singers with potential out there that this show does find. Alas, it requires the panel to troll through the thousands of dregs who can not sing.

Now, I'm no authority here. I have as much musical talent as a three-finger baboon playing a flute. I can appreciate good music and I certainly enjoy listening to a variety of it but I am no expert. The few attempts I've made at playing it were mechanical at best. I've never developed an inherent talent for music the way I have for other subjects.

That being said, I am not tone-deaf. When the dog's hackles rise on his back as some wannabe hopeful reaches for a high note but succeeds in replicating the sound of nails across a blackboard, I can state with some firmness that they probably aren't moving on to the next round.

The shock of it all is that these people actually believe they are good singers!

Now, some do go on the show for their 15 seconds of nutty fame. No problem with that. If you want to make a fool of yourself on national television, be my guest. The segment I am talking about are those who honestly believe they can sing. They've never done it as a child, never pursued any musical desires as a teen or adult, never warbled a single note to an audience and believed Mom that their gravel basitone incomprehensible mumbling was the next Pavarotti in the making. Not that our mothers would ever lie to us rather than shatter our fragile egos in a world of puppies and unicorns.

Seriously, how self-deluded do you have to be to go on this show to sing? Haven't these people ever listened to themselves?

Folks, ask a friend for their opinion. A good friend, not some kiss-up sycophant. A Mommy substitute is not what you need here. Better yet, if you are contemplating trying out for this show, seek out a music teacher and get their opinion. It might be the best $50 you've ever spend. Hell, some teachers will give you that first (and hopefully final) lesson for free. Avail yourself of that opportunity.

Get a honest assessment. Trust me, you'll be doing yourself and me a favor. As well as the rest of the country. The whole value system that American Idol caters to is messed up already. There is no point in feeding further into by making yourself look like a jack-ass in front of the entire country.

If small animals whimper whenever you sing, you're not a candidate for American Idol.

If you sing in monotone broken Engrish, you are not a candidate for American Idol. There can be only one William Hung and history doesn't repeat itself in this fashion. He got lucky. You won't.

If your friends plug their ears to prevent their brain from leaking out at your latest rendition of "Amazing Grace", you are not a candidate for American Idol.

You might be the sweetest, most wonderful, family supporting, gentle, motivated and loving person in the world.

But you can not sing.

Spare me and you the embarassment. Please.

Alas, the country disagrees with me. American Idol is the new circus for the 21st century.

Welcome!

Welcome to Suburban Dingo!

What, you may ask, is a suburban dingo? This is...

This is Foster. He is my Australian Cattle Dog. Most people are not familiar with the breed. I wasn't until I met my fiancee. He is her dog and he has adopted me into his pack.

The ACD, as the breed is known, are herding dogs that were originally bred in Australia as the name would indicate to herd cattle. As a herding dog, they are agile, strong and very intelligent. They are a cross between an Australian Shepherd and the dingo. We're convinced Foster is all-dingo.

By their very nature, ACDs are very active dogs. They need stimulation. Constant stimulation. And because they are bred to herd, they are very smart. ACDs rank in the top 10 most intelligent dogs out there. Need for stimulation plus intelligence equals a serious mischief maker.

In the Wiki on the ACD, they describe the breed puppies as quite literally "puppies from hell". And will remain so for the first two years or so of their life. Foster as a 6 month puppy old ate my fiancee's dining room furniture. Not chewed it, ate it. Ate the cross-supports and most of the legs off of the chairs and the table. As pups, they have two modes: 90mph and comatose. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Most people who adopt ACD pups have no idea what they've gotten themselves into. We've run into two folks at various local pet stores with ACDs and we've been asked both times "Do they ever stop?".

No, they don't. Foster just turned seven and he's still a hellion.

As adults, they are amazing dogs. Persistence and stubbornness are typical. They need to kept occupied. If you don't, they will occupy themselves. Often not in the way you think. If they feel a need to chew on something and you don't provide it, they will happily and sneakily, wander off to find something that suits them. Like your shoes or pillows from the couch. And then proceed to skin them into neat pieces for later discovery. When they say an ACD will happily strip the fuzz from a tennis ball like we would peel an orange, they aren't kidding. I've seen Foster do it.

Remember, these dogs are smart. Foster remembers where he puts stuff for safe keeping even months later. He knows what drawer his treats are in. And the box they are stored in. And the freezer where his frozen treats are. And he knows which ones we are talking about when we ask him. All we have to ask him is, "What do you want?" and he'll run over to whichever he is wanting. Usually the drawer. If the drawer is empty and we say "Go to the box.", he'll beat us out of the room.

Which comes to the breed's primary role. Have you ever been herded? It's quite fun, actually. If he wants you to see something, he'll walk in that direction and when you don't come, stop, turn towards you, murf like "Come on, this way, dummy!" and wait for you to follow. If you don't follow, he'll run up beside you and woof, gesturing his head like "Get going!" and urge you to walk with him. Failing that, he'll get aggressive and pounce at your feet or even nip at your heels.

Life with an ACD is never boring. In fact, I highly recommend borrowing one from a friend if you are ever thinking of having children. If you can manage life around the schedule of a young ACD, you'll be prepared for life with a 2 year old. Better even. Two year olds wear themselves out faster. Foster operates on 15 to 30 minute cycles. Rest, play, rest, play, rest, play, all day long. If you can live a month with a cattle dog, you can handle kids. Foster is available for rent at reasonable rates.

And like kids, they'll deny any trouble they cause. Ever think a 60+ pound dog could move silently up a flight of creaky stairs and you'll never hear a thing? This same dog who bounds up and down them like a mini earthquake can disappear out of sight without a sound better than any cat burglar. He does it when he knows he would be in trouble for what he is about to do. Want to run up to greet Grandma or bark at the mailman? He's a thundering herd. When he knows there is chicken bones in the trash? Silent as a thief. We'll often look up and ask, "Where's the dog?". Odds are he snuck upstairs when we thought he was sleeping soundly behind the bed to get into mischief. And when you catch him red-pawed, it is "No, I was just investigating this mess, Dad." and give you his most innocent puppy face.

Most dogs have only one of these traits. ACDs have them all. In spades. The only time a cattle dog isn't causing trouble is when he's asleep in front of you. Rest assured, give him 30 minutes or an hour and that'll change.

That, my friends, is a suburban dingo.

So what is this blog about?

It is a companion blog. I want to keep my 2nd Amendment and gun rights issues separate. This blog will be devoted more to the personal and topics unrelated to guns and the like. I have a deep interest in other topics besides guns and that includes computer technology. I have been working with computers since I was a child, I am a big Open Source user and would like to devote some space to such issues.

And to my life with my fiancee and give Foster his 15 minutes of fame.

So enjoy, sit back and welcome aboard!