Welcome to the Bog

Yes, that's right, I said bog, not—as one might have expected given my usual inclination towards puerile punning at any price—blog.

As torrential rainfall has sent library staff and patrons home early and turned my usually pleasant backyard into a fascinatingly squelchy bogland from which I expect at any moment to see water moccasins and alligators rise, I simply haven't the heart to write about any subject more watery than a large blended and therefore water-(in the form of ice, that is)-filled margarita. Wish I had one, but I don't.

Hence, the lack of promised desert island books, and instead a brief exploration and exceptionally-limited bit of commentary on YouTube (which I must say rather let me down on good bog videos). In short, I am not a big fan of this particular time-sucking vaccuum, but more power to its users and viewers if they are indeed bringing about social and political change with a medium that barrages its fan base with dozens (hundreds?) of untalented, uninteresting, and frequently irrelevant video entries for every search. Yeesh, my attention span is too short for this! Maybe I am a product of the MTV generation, but I can't sit through even one minute of most of these five to eight minute pieces. I have better things to do.

That said, I fully acknowledge that YouTube has created some media stars, sometimes even because said individuals are talented or actually have something important to share with the world. Happily, many, many clips are short, to-the-point, and even dare-I-say funny, and therefore of some value that apparently-humorless individuals like myself don't truly understand or appreciate (seemingly at least, given my impassioned anti-tube rant of mere moments ago).

However, to prove my point on the laugh quotient and show that I do indeed have a sense of humor, I invite you to enjoy a brief YouTube video that embodies my husband's usual morning wake-up call using the all-natural feline alarm clock. I am happy to report this is not my regular wake-up experience, as I rise before the drama begins, and besides our cats know such guerrilla tactics don't work on someone who sleeps with a special pillow for putting over her head at moments like these.



More of a dog person? The following video has made me rethink my belief that my husband and I should get a Boston Terrier as an attractively well-matched companion for our cat 8-ball:



On a related side note, I am more than half convinced that 8-ball is a rather poorly disguised Boston Terrier. (For more pictures of 8-ball at work and play, check out my side bar.)

As final proof that I put some time into this assignment, I offer the following tidbits on Kitsap Regional Library's infamous salmon video by commending the creative use of Jaws music in the soundtrack and Rory's very fine preference of Classic over other forms of Coke.