There are No Whos in Whoville.

Attention all thieves, robbers, vermin, low-lying scum of the earth and dog-haters (more on that later…): we don’t exist, and if we did, we would NEVER travel and even if we pretended to, our property is moated, electrified, barb-wired, searchlighted and protected by scores of snarling, rabid, vicious trouser-diving ferrets.

You don't even want to think about the damage he could do!

 There, that should take care of any concerns, right?

It’s actually a blessing that we’re not using names right now, because if we were, I would be forced to tell you which whos in Whoville nearly slept through their own birthday party…

Don't you love her hair?!!!!

Their birthdays are just two days apart, so we celebrated them together at Ruths Chris (I’m allowed to use HER name, right?). One of the wine rooms was available so we had our own private dining experience. Lots of fun!

No-name Granny and no-name birthday girl

No-name birthday boy and the CE

Birthday dessert #1

Birthday dessert #2 - the chickens contributed the eggs that went into this one!

 It’s been a quiet, blog-less week here. I am humbled by (and astonished!) that others miss the usual installments as much as I miss writing them. If only I’d invited YOU to dinner that night instead of all those detractors!

The girls have been free-ranging up a storm and laying almost every day.

If I’d known about this handy dandy Shakespearean Insult Generator that evening, I might have been able to nip the whole thing in the bud: Check it out – it will aid greatly in that snappy comeback such as “Grow unsightly warts, thou gorbellied, tardy-gaited fustilarian!”

Nobody says it quite like Willie the Shake...

With all the non-blogging downtime I’ve had this week, I’ve turned to reading some of the magazines that pile up in this information-overloaded post-Webian, Kindled and i-Tableted age. There’s a certain pleasure to reading magazines that you can’t get any other way. There are evenings when I know that clicking the TV remote will take me straight to Jersey Shore or Real Housewives hell, yet I just don’t feel like tackling Les Miserables. which I keep reading and reading and reading and still only find myself on page 620, which nothing more than a measly half-way point. That’s the perfect time to pick up a magazine, and last night the glossy rag of choice was the latest issue of New York magazine. The cover features a  rakish Boston Terrier with a saturnine expression that will no doubt cause a noticeable uptick for puppy mill sales. The accompanying article is entitled “The Rise of Dog Identity Politics” (

Current issue of New York magazine

Of course, we happen to know a certain (not-to-be-named) Boston Terrier who we think puts the NY Mag’s model to shame:

Handsome and always in formal wear!

Truth be told, the article was the teensiest bit turgid, but there is one quote I must share: “A 1999 study found that people who strongly dislike dogs score significantly higher on the measure of anal character and lower on the empathy scale of the California Psychological Inventory.” I have to admit that the thought of such a thing as a California Psychological Inventory exists is an eyebrow-raiser, but then, even moreso is the thought of how icky it would be to know anyone with “anal character”.  Glory be – how lucky we are that no dog-haters pass our portal! Just goes to show that we are justifiably suspicious of anyone who does not pass muster with our pooches.

"In the unlikely event that you get past the ferrets, just know that you'll be dealing with me!"

About polloplayer

Empty nester searching for meaning of life through the occasional chicken epiphany.
This entry was posted in Absurdity, All Things Family, Oddities, Spoiled Pets and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to There are No Whos in Whoville.

  1. Lori says:

    Too cute!! Ooops … I put my name. xoxo

  2. Katherine says:

    Wow – I think “the blonde” took this whole “change your identity because of the chicken blog risk” a little too far. But she does look great – as always.

    The fact that someone as classy and erudite as yourself even knows what Jersey Shore is, scares me.

    I wonder if it’s a sign that you mentioned Willie the Shake… that’s what the breeder is calling our maybe-puppy. But I’m taking everything as a sign these days since we STILL can’t decide.

    SOOOOOO happy to have you back. I can’t tell you how excited I was to click on the chick bookmark at 9 pm and see a new entry! (I’ve probably only clicked on it 10 times today… sad but true. Well, it IS the weekend now, right?)

  3. jess says:

    the new-york-neighbourhood-named-canine surely strikes fear into the heart of all who see her… least the birds she always barks at. what a cute picture!

    great to see you back here! i too have checked every day, hoping for a fix, or to read comments from other addicts, er, i mean, fellow fans like myself. 🙂

  4. CE says:

    Glad to have PP back up in the air. The chix PR agency has been hounding me mercilessly; seems the endorsements have faded without the pub from PP. So with the circulation rising again, and on course to overtake the Grey Lady as I understand it, the birds should have no problem flogging their new line of off-the-rack knitted beakwear. Great for the East coast foul, what with the collapse of global warming and all……..Long Live Pollo Player!!

  5. Katherine says:

    The advertising copy just write itself:

    “Eggs: Breakfast of Champions”
    “It takes a licking and keeps on chicking.”
    “Between love & hen-ness lies Obsession.”
    “Is it live, or is it Memor-eggs?”
    “So easy a capon can do it.”
    “Brood all that you can brood.”
    “Put a hen in your tank.”
    “Just lay it.”
    “Like a good neighbor, Chick Farm is there.”

    Derivative? Perhaps. Worthwhile investigating in order to keep PP going, hopefully on a more than weekend schedule? YES!

  6. ANG says:

    This could not be more true;
    “The dog’s eyes were designed to induce human concern, of course.”
    All the-dog-named-after-something-small-in-size has to do is gaze my direction and I am either on the floor squishing his face in a ball and kissing him, or hucking a “cookie” his way…
    I have no willpower.
    As the-little-blonde-dictator-who-lives-in-my-house-but-doesn’t-pay-rent would say…

  7. pollo amiga says:

    love the new hair color. tres chic. and I too thought of the un-named Boston Terrier most recent issue of NY mag arrived.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s