You Better Watch Out

* Warning and Disclaimer - the post you are about to see may be grammatically damaging.  It may, or may not, but probably most likely will, consist of possibly the longest run-on sentence in the history of writing.

There.  You have been warned.  You have no one to blame but yourself if you stay and end up screaming from the room into the night.

The Goatmother has had a cold, which she hasn't had since 2004 (quite literally), which has resulted in her sitting for hours on end in front of the computer with a dull, blank and miserable look on her face, which has caused the Goatfather, in fear, to go into hiding in front of his computer, which has made it virtually impossible for any self-respecting talented Caprine scribe to get near any computer, which has resulted in a dry period occurring in the posting on said scribe's blog, which is why this run-on sentence is appearing since haste is a complete necessity before someone returns from the bathroom and reclaims their seat.

I warned you.  Please stay tuned as soon a Caprine Christmas tale will be appearing on a computer monitor near you. Maybe.  If I can get near one myself.  Oy.

Do You Get SPAM?

I get SPAM.  Oh, the shame.  Do you get SPAM?  Shameful though it may be, I get it because I do not wish to make my lovely readers  jump through hoops trying to copy the dreaded 'Captcha' SPAM-foilers in order to leave a comment.  See what a nice goat I am?

So what kind of SPAM do you get?  I get it from a lot of folks trying to sell shoes.  I admit I haven't been able to figure out why anyone would wish to sell shoes to a goat, but I suppose there must be some mysterious reason to which I am not yet privy.  And then there are the purses.  Louis Vuitton, no less.  Come to think of it, though,  a purse might be nice.  I could carry quite a few Peanuts around in a purse.  And what about those Canadian goose down jackets?  What's up with that?  I already have enough hair to keep me warm for the winter, thank you very much.  But an umbrella would be nice.  Do they make designer umbrellas?  And why are there never offers for Peanuts?  Are there, perhaps, no designer Peanuts out there?

I have to admit, however, that sometimes they don't at least appear to be selling anything.  In fact, sometimes one is unsure as to why they bothered to send the SPAM at all.  And,  lately they seem to be getting more and more inventive.  You just never know what you are going to find.  The ultimate of one such SPAM arrived today regarding my post of yesterday.  I have to tell you,  I laughed so hard I thought I was going to fall off my stump.  Here is what it said:

"Hey! This post could not be written any better! Reading through this post reminds me of my good old room mate! He always kept talking about this. I will forward this page to him."

The whole time I'm thinking, 'Wow.  Your room mate was a goat?!!!  How progressive are you???  A goat that was always talking about whether or not goats came over on the Mayflower?!!!!  What a small world!!! Who knew?'

Oy.

I have but one thing to say to the SPAMMERS of the world:  "The way to gain a good reputation is to endeavor to be what you desire to appear." - Socrates
Now there's a Thanksgiving table full of food for thought. <smile ...>  

A Thanksgiving Tail ... uh ... Tale

A Thanksgiving Tale  by Marigold

Once upon a time there were a lot of people in strange clothes who didn't like where they were living.  Since there was no Internet back then, they had to rely on those travel  stories from friends in order to find a new place they wanted to live.  You know, the kind where somebody goes someplace you can't afford and then invites all the neighbors over for snacks and endless pictures?  Oh, wait.  I guess they hadn't invented photography yet, so maybe they just came for the snacks. 

Anyway, this group of peculiar dressers with their big buckles, short pants and love of black and white, finally settled upon 'The New World'.  I am not sure why it was called 'new' since it was most likely decidedly really old, but I suppose it was new to them and people who dress funny tend to see things differently.  So how, then,  to get to this New World?  Well, back then about the only way to get somewhere that far away was  by boat since it was across the ocean and horses don't swim all that well.  So they set about procuring a ship and trying to figure out what to pack.

Of course this whole boat thing wasn't going to happen instantly, so one thing they had to consider was what to take with them that would continue to provide them sustenance over the long haul.  Chickens were a good choice, of course, because though most are dumber than posts, they do lay eggs.  Also, since they have such post-like intelligence, one could always easily catch one to eat if one were desperate.  So chickens went on the list.

Now this group was inordinately fond of bacon, so someone decided a couple of pigs simply had to go along.  Plus they could always be used to help with any tilling of the soil or stump uprooting.  They weren't all that big either.  I feel compelled to mention, here, that though pigs are normally very intelligent, the two that went along for this ride simply could not have been.  I mean knowing what was in store, would you go?   So anyway, stupid pigs went on the list. 

What about cows?  Well, cows are far too big and weigh too much.  The boat might sink.  Plus they make an awful mess.  And they moo.  But what to do about milk?  Someone mentioned goats at this point.  Well, shoot!  Of course!  Goats give great milk and they can pull little kids in wagons, clear out brush, provide you with philosophical commentary, and all sorts of good things.  Besides, no one liked Chevon, so you could actually convince a goat to come along for the ride.  I'm not sure if Peanuts had been invented yet, but I'm sure that probably served as a great incentive if they did.

So this group of ridiculously attired persons, who, by the way, were called Pilgrims, contracted the boat called The Mayflower, to take them and their motley band of animals across the pond to The New World.  This happened waaaaaaay back in 1620.  That was a hay of  a long time ago.

Now, then, you are likely wondering how I knew there were goats on the Mayflower.  I can assure you, I did not make it up.  While I admit there is no record of a goat in the actual documents from aboard the ship, it is known that in 1623, Emmanuel Altham visited Plymouth (which was the name of the place they landed in the The New World and not an automobile) and recorded that there were six goats, fifty pigs and many chickens.  Fifty pigs?  Apparently pigs are very prolific.  Who knew?  Although I do seem to recall reading something about that in one of those mass-forwarded emails.  Oy.  Don't think I better go there.

Oh, well.  So the question remains, what kind of goats arrived on the Mayflower?  Obviously they would have been dairy goats.  Nubians?  Nah.  Had they been Nubians, they would likely have become lost somewhere in the bowels of the boat and never again seen the light of day.  Either that or forgotten they were supposed to going somewhere in the first place and missed the boat entirely.  So what about La Manchas?  Nah.  Aliens hadn't landed on the Earth yet, so they couldn't possibly have been La Manchas. 

Oberhaslis?  Saanens?  Toggenburgs?  These are all good choices, but the fact remains that there is likely only one answer to this age-old question.  The Alpine. Now anyone who really knows me, knows that I would be loathe to bestow any sort of honor, such as being the goat of choice on the Mayflower, on an Alpine.  But, the facts of the matter are these.  Alpines always have to be first.  That means when the Pilgrims were looking over stock to bring on the voyage, the Alpines would have been first in line, butting everyone else out of the way in the process.  Secondly, Alpines are undoubtedly smart, but their sense of greed seems to override any other sense, thereby rendering them temporarily Lizard Brain when it comes to anything involving food.  A fact which would have made them exceedingly easy to convince to walk up that plank and into that boat.  (I feel it prudent to mention, here, that  any Mini-Nubian or Nigerian Dwarf worth their salt would have, at this point,  been standing at the back of the crowd, picking their hooves and looking nonchalantly off into the distance,  having recognized the obvious ruse.)

But the fact that makes it most likely the goats on the Mayflower were, indeed, Alpines is this.  The Picky Snit.  Everyone knows that during a voyage of months, food supplies often became tainted.  People and animals often became sick and died before reaching their destination.  Plus, rats always managed to find their way on board, despite the fact they were never invited.  This is just like in the barn, and is, by the way, the reason the Peanut jar now has to live in the enclosed (and locked) Sacred Grain Room.  Anyway, every Alpine possesses the Picky Snit gene.  Thus they would have refused to eat any food that wasn't in tip top condition and thereby survived the long voyage.  They might have been skinny, mind you, but they would not have been ill.   It really is the only feasible explanation.

So in 1623, there were only six goats at Plymouth.  Yet more proof that those goats on the Mayflower were Alpines.  In the three years from 1620 to 1623, any other breed would have grown to much greater proportions.  But given the Alpine temperament, one year would have been enough to drive those Pilgrims to distraction and likely resulted in a fondness for Chevon.  It is what it is.  I'm just sayin' ...

So there you have it.  In my superior Marigold-Holmesian penchant for uncovering the truth, I have given you, pardon the Thanksgiving pun, food for thought.  This year remember that we are all on a journey and ought to be thankful for that journey, no matter how hard or bizarre the circumstances along the way.  Some folks get stepped on, and some folks, like the Alpines,  likely do the stepping.  But we all, in the end, come out on top of the stump.  Still, should you happen to find yourself squashed under foot by some one or some thing, try not to blame them.  Instead remember this:

"We're all pilgrims on the same journey - but some pilgrims have better road maps."  - Nelson DeMille

The question is , just who's road map do you want to follow?  Now that is a query worth pondering.  Happy Thanksgiving!  May you find yourself not a turkey.

The Passing Of An Institution

Have you heard the news???  Hostess has gone under.  Twinkies and Ding Dongs are being sold on EBay as we speak.  Oy.  Do you suppose any of them have the face of Elvis on them?  I bet those go for more.  Nonetheless, no Hostess in our life?  I mean they've been around since 1930, for Goats' Sake!  How many Twinkies and Ding Dongs have been carried in lunch boxes over the years?  How many picnics featured them for dessert? How many of them popped out of metal lunch boxes high atop some steel beam in the sky?  Whatever will The Closer do now???

Still considering they have an infinite shelf life, maybe it was time.  I'm sure they are still going to be around for a long time to come.  Even if they get hard, one could still use them as a door stop.  Or, if you were to hollow out the center early on, one might be able to use them to hide keys out of doors.  They might even become lawn ornaments.  Garden Gnomes may soon lose their status in favor of the artfully placed Twinkie amongst the Petunias.   I wonder if any will go in the Smithsonian?  The possibilities are endless here.  Someone has not had on their thinking cap.  There are enough possibilities available from Twinkies and Ding Dongs alone to likely pull the company OUT of bankruptcy.  Too bad they never had a goat for a CEO.  Things might have been much different.

What possibilities can you come up with?  Perhaps you ought to go on EBay right now and see what you can get.  Just think of how many EBucks you'll earn.

At any rate, I just hope this sort of thing doesn't happen to Peanuts.  Although I can't imagine that it will since Peanuts are so good for you.  A health food really.  And you know, like they say, 'God don't make no junk', so Peanuts are surely going to be around forever.  Just the same, if you happen to be a Peanut grower and you just happen to be reading this, please, don't take any chances.  I'm just sayin' ...

Anyway, if you ask me, we ought not get too excited about it but merely view it as one of those things that has seen its time.  About the only way we can continue to exist in this world is to accept change.  Honor what was and embrace what is to be.  Goodbye, Hostess.  We knew you well.


“Nevertheless so profound is our ignorance, and so high our presumption, that we marvel when we hear of the extinction of an organic being; and as we do not see the cause, we invoke cataclysms to desolate the world, or invent laws on the duration of the forms of life!” ― Charles Darwin, The Origin of Species 

Right, you are, Mr. Darwin.  I just hope they don't invent any laws on the duration of Ding Dongs.  We have enough of those floating about in existence as it is.

Thanksgiving

A very wise person said, "If you don't like something, change it;  if you can't change it, change the way you think about it".  Those are very wise words and it wasn't even a goat that thought it up.  At any rate, it doesn't really matter who thought it up.  I still think those are very good words to live by. 

Take for example, well, me!  That's a good example if ever I saw one.  Anyway, suppose I don't like how Ella hogs all the hay, the grass, the barn space, the air, the Planet, the Universe (Notice I didn't say Peanuts?  That's because I do not allow anyone to hog the Peanuts.)  So, since Ella is an Alpine, and Alpines have the worst goat temperament known to goatkind, there's likely not a lot I can do about it.  I mean that would be like expecting Justin Beiber to grow a beard.  Ain't gonna' happen anytime soon.  Therefore, should I desire to keep my peace of mind and maintain my well-deserved reputation as an enlightened being, my only recourse would be to change my perception of Ella as an obvious pig-headed dunder head, n'est ce pas?  Hmmm ... not so easy, but I suppose I might consider that perhaps in her, shall we say 'zest', she might actually be ridding the environment of the more inferior pieces of hay, the less succulent blades of grass, the more 'soiled' space in the barn, the more polluted molecules in the air, the Planet and the Universe, thus leaving the best for more deserving individuals.  Like me.  I am deserving.  Come to think of it, I'm probably more deserving than just about anyone else I know.

Then there is the case of the Goatmother.  She doesn't like the 'C' word.  She doesn't like all the not-so-lovely things the evil beast  has brought to her life, or the anxiety, the worry, or the  what-ifs.  But that's all okay, because she has chosen to follow the above wonderful advice and view it all a little differently.  Well, mostly she has.  Sometimes she slips up, but she's a human and not a goat, so what can you expect?  Anyway, she tries to see all the good things that have been brought into her life as a result.  Like the absolute TONS of fabulous and kind people, the impetus to finally lose all that stupid weight  she's been trying to lose for such a long time (Boo.   Please take note.), the joy only an exercise high can bring, and the knowledge that life is the bomb.  Of course she knew all this before, but now she can see it more clearly with all it's glitter, bells, confetti, and as one of her friends likes to say, fairy dust. 

At any rate, Thanksgiving is upon us and certainly this little strategy for living falls into that category.  What are you thankful for this year?  Me?  Peanuts.  Does this surprise you?  Silly people!  Peanuts are for goats ... and being thankful.

" Be thankful for what you have;  you'll end up having more.  If you concentrate on what you don't have, you will never, ever have enough." - Oprah Winfrey

Ah, another of those wise human beings.  I wish I'd said that.  Happy Thanksgiving!  May you have the warmth of love at your table.  And Peanuts.  Don't forget the Peanuts.  I'm just sayin' ...

Something Wicked This Way Comes ...

 

Now THAT'S scary!

One Last Adventure

I know.  You are all tired of the Little UnDead.  Me too.  Nonetheless, we have one last tale to tell.  I promise.  This will be the last you'll hear of him for awhile.  I hope.  Besides, I'm running out of adjectives.  Oy.

Okay, so the last place that Meager Malfeasant went, you are just not going to believe.  Are you ready for this?  He went to ... wait for it ... a Doll Show.  Are you disappointed?  Disconcerted?  Worried?  I'm all of those and probably a few more I haven't thought of yet.  Still, it is what it is, and that's where he went so I suppose we'll just have to pull up our big goat panties and deal with it, eh?  Of course some goats' panties are bigger than others and thus more difficult to pull up.  Take Boo for example.  There's a whole lotta' area to cover there, I can tell you.  Sort of like trying to canopy the Gobi Desert.  Can you imagine?  Wait.  I'm getting off track.  So sorry.  It's just such an immense thought.

Anyway, back to the Brief and Breathless.  Yes, he went to a Doll Show.  Why?  Who knows what reasoning lurks in the heart and mind of the Cramped and Cold?  I don't know about you, but t'is most certainly a puzzlement to me.

However, while there, our intrepid Infantile and Inert met up with a couple of the Goatmother's friends, one of which is a survivor just like the Goatmother.  And survivors they are, of the highest order!  A wonderful lady, to be sure, full of grace and wit.  And the other friend is a fabulous soul as well.  Lucky Goatmother to know these two, and lucky Wee and Wasted to get to have his picture taken with them.

 

I think the Goatmother's friend was actually trying to fix him up with that Midge doll.  He has a thing for redheads.  Anyway, that Mini Masher had quite a time at the Doll Show.  Below you can see that he managed to drum up quite a few prospects at the lovely two-headed ladies' table.

And of course he felt right at home here.  See the coffin there in the lower right hand corner?  I can tell you he had his eye on that.  Can you say C.O.V.E.T.?

So there you have it.  You can breathe easy now.  You won't have to hear anymore about the Cute and Cadaverous' adventures for at least another whole year.  I know I'm relieved. 

"Life is either a great adventure or nothing."  - Helen Keller

I'm not sure exactly how that fits in with someone who has no life, but, hay, at least he has the adventure part down pat.

Now then.  Be sure to tune in on Halloween day because you will see one of the scariest things you will ever encounter.  Be afraid. Be very afraid.