The Yapping Chihuahua
Years ago my neighbor had a little brown Chihuahua named Taco. I visited my neighbor as we had a common interest of hand-loading performance ammunition. When I approached the door, Taco went into a frenzy. Yip-yip-yip. Yip-yip-yip. Yip-yip. Little Taco had two teeth that jetted outward, a few long hairs above his eyes and long hairs sticking out from the side of his nose. A dozen other hairs jutted unevenly from his skinny body.
Taco was hilarious. I teased him mildly. I'd smile, and he's go Yip-yip-yip. Yip-yip-yip. Yip-yip. I'd wink, and he'd go Yip-yip-yip. Yip-yip-yip. Yip-yip. I'd stare at him, and he's go Yip-yip-yip. Yip-yip-yip. Yip-yip. Taco was so consumed with me that he stood on the sofa at the front window waiting or me to come around. He'd stamp his little paws and go Yip-yip-yip. Yip-yip-yip. Yip-yip. He'd work himself into a rage, shaking and quivering. He went into neurotic shock.
A few yeas later, I attracted two neurotics named Poco and Loco. They are consumed by me too. They watch me. They record every word I write. Poco and Loco then stamp their little paws and say Yap-yap-yap. Yap-yap-yap. Yap-yap. I tease them mildly. I publish a paragraph and they go Yap-yap-yap. Yap-yap-yap. Yap-yap. I correct a sentence and they go Yap-yap-yap. Yap-yap-yap. Yap-yap. I waited just thirty-three minutes recently after I published then removed a paragraph to see how fast they were. They quickly went, Yap-yap-yap. Yap-yap-yap. Yap-yap.
Loco's not only neurotic but paranoid. If he's not yapping at me, he's yapping at conjured enemies. I've had fun, but I have more productive tasks. Poco and Loco will be around if I need a jolt of humor. But like little Taco, a once proud, sleek and beautiful, animal, Loco has slipped. He has little else to do than go Yap-yap-yap. Yap-yap-yap. Yap-yap over the most insignificant utterance or gesture. Loco is a lonely and hopeless little fellow. It would be sad, but I derive a bit of pleasure from Loco's plummet in competence.
======================================================
Footnote #1: No to the muse who said Meropa is dead. She is alive and well.
Perhaps she got tired of all the neurotic Chihuahuas running around going Yap-yap-yap. Yap-yap-yap. Yap-yap.
Footnote #2: If Clubhouse is not a secret email list, then why is it secret? Why are members de-listed based on suspicion? I have many sources for my fodder. The tongue-in-cheek blurb on Stalkers triggered a witch-hunt not unlike the purging of Jews in a furnace. The Clubhouse list may be the culmination of the degenerative state of "Project" genealogy. The Clubhouse uses the same tactics practiced by the Advisory Board: delisting, denying fair hearings, secret lists and selective treatment. Many in USGenWeb still retain a vision of purpose. The rest have joined the pack of yapping Chihuahuas.
I'm outta here.
Have a nice day. Don't take any wooden nickels.
A bird in hand is worth two in the bush. Don't count your chickens before the hatch.
A stitch in time saves nine. What comes around, goes around. The old gray mare ain't what she used to be.
He's full of shit as a Christmas Turkey. Give 'em enough rope and he'll hang himself. It will come back to haunt you. Horse hockey.
It will be a cold day in hell before I do. If the Lord is willing and the creek don't rise. We are born naked, wet and hungry; then it gets worse.
Loco the Chihuahua, will someday be an ancestor. Life is a bitch, then we die. Genealogists never die, they just lose their census. Horse feathers!
What ya' see, is what ya' get. Th-th-th-that's all folks! So long. Happy Trails. Farewell. Adieu. Bye-bye. So long, kiddo. Don't Let the Door Hit You on the Way Out.
Hit the Road Jack and don'tcha come back
No more no more no more no more,
Hit the Road Jack and don'tcha come back
No more
What'd you say
Old woman old woman, oh you treat me so mean,
You're the meanest old woman that I ever have seen,
Well I guess if you say so
I'll have to pack my things and go (that's right)
Now Baby, listen Baby, don't you treat me this-a way
'Cause I'll be back on my feet some day,
Don't care if you do, cause it's understood,
You got no money, and you just ain't no good
Well I guess if you say so
I'll have to pack my things and go (that's right)
Well ...
Uh, whud jou say?
I didn't understand you.
You can't mean that ...
Aw now Baby, Please.
What you tryin to do to me!?
=====
Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.