fuzzy, black dogs

fuzzy, black dogs
All three of my fuzzy, black dogs -- Bob, Ace and Lilly.

Phillip's Scenic Overlook

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Discipline Made Simple

The following infomercial, though sponsored and created by Fuzzy, Black Dogs, does not necessarily express the views or opinions of the creator of Fuzzy, Black Dogs since he does not want his family to kill him in his sleep. And he certainly doesn't condone usage of this device.

It's the newest innovation to hit the market and will revolutionize discipline in the home as we know it! It's the new Behavioral Modification Paraphernalia. Or, as we call this simple device, BuMP.

Have a little one who refuses to wash dishes, scrub the floor or mow the yard? BuMP him! Or perhaps your wife didn't cook that five-course, gourmet meal you were looking forward to. BuMP her! It's so simple!

BuMP is a simple device that fits around the neck, wrist or ankle and administers a slight shock in order modify bad behavior. BuMP comes with two pieces so you can charge one while the other is in use. It also includes a handheld unit so you can BuMP the wearer when you observe unwanted behavior.

You may be thinking, "that sounds like a dog shock collar!" But it's not because it comes in designer colors and designs for boys and girls. They come in child and adult sizes.

When screaming, spanking, leather whips and stockades simply won't work, just try the all new BuMP! It works so much better than traditional punishments because the minute you observe that unwanted behavior, BuMP it. Zzzt! Voila, it stops immediately.

The kit includes two collars, a hand held trigger, a charger and a waiver which releases us from liability should you get hurt. It costs $85, plus tax, shipping and legal fees.

To purchase one, simply send your checking account number or credit card number to us at P.O. Box BuMP44, Shockem, NC, 27299. Allow five months for delivery.

Happy BuMPing!

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

First-Grader Limericks Rock!

Greetings and salutations! It's still April, which means that is still National Poetry Month. Our raffle for the $10 gift card and call for poetry has come to an end.

Fear not, though, readers. I'm still badgering my first grade guided reading students and beating them over the head with poetical terms and words, figuratively speaking, of course.

My first-graders seem to be natural born limerick writers. Here is what we came up with in two days work. (Teacher's and student's names have been eradicated to protect the guilty... Whoops, meant innocent!)

One day a girl started to dance
Because she got ants in her pants.
Her teacher went crazy
Because the ants were too lazy
To leave on a small boat to France!

A girl in one teacher's classroom
Planted a tree and it started to bloom
It grew from the floor
And up through a drawer
Now the teacher can't teach from the gloom!

A boy started jumping in his chair
So high, he flew in the air!
He got stuck in the lights
The teacher doesn't like heights.
For three days he's been stuck way up there

A girl in one teacher's classroom
Flew through the class on a broom.
She fell off on a table
Onto a student's name label
So the teacher sent her to her doom!

Friday, April 12, 2013

Golfing Newbie Shows Potential

I've discovered a sport where you get to drive carts, carry clubs and whack the heck out of little white, dimpled balls over a vast expanse of land that is riddled with little holes. It's called golf.

Incidentally, that is also my newest adjective that I have managed to acquire -- golfer. You can add that adjective to the rather large list of adjectives that currently describe me.

I have been playing long enough, though, to know which end of the club you use to hit the ball. Also, the balls are supposed to be aimed at the little holes scattered randomly around the grounds.

It seems one of the most important rules of the game of golf is that you don't hit just any white, dimpled balls you find laying around. Somehow, you have to be able to differentiate your white, dimpled ball from all the others scattered around the landscape. You can only hit your own white, dimpled ball. This adds a serious degree of difficulty to the game.

The good news, though, is that I am destined to be a great golfer. My reasoning behind this revelation is rock solid.

To the best of my knowledge, all the greatest golfers have a signature move or gesture that sets them apart from the rest of the pack of wannabe greats.

I already have a signature move -- my swing! While it has not yet been compared with, say, Tiger Woods or Andre Agassi, it has attracted a bit of attention from my golf partner and other fellow golfers.

I call my signature swing 'the Mongo' for it's strength and ferocity. My golf partner and friend simply calls it unique. I overheard some golfers playing through one day refer to someone as a "seizure with a stick." I hope whoever they were talking about is okay.

On top of all that, I've been known to hit that little white, dimpled ball nearly 100 yards off the tee with my biggest club. Now that is impressive!

As you can see, my game shows a lot of promise and potential. My partner says I can only go up from here!

I am a little worried, though, since I simply don't know if I will have time to write once I join the pro circuit.

Sunday, April 7, 2013

Shhh... I'm the Pen Whisperer

It's said that confession is good for the soul. I must confess, then, that I'm a bit of a pen aficionado. Or as my wife says, I'm a pen whisperer.

At one time in my life, I worked retail at Sharon Luggage & Gifts. It was a rough job and I found the company to be difficult. While it may not have been the company itself that was difficult, the management was most strict and unforgiving.

You see, the company encouraged employees to learn as much as possible about the products we sold. Needless to say, I spent every spare moment near the pens.

"Phillip," a voice would say behind me. "Stop playing with the pens!"

I could tell you the difference between a ballpoint, roller ball and fountain pen. I could tell you how to a clean a fountain quill, or how to make a gummed up pen write again. I could tell you which pen could write in zero gravity and never melt or freeze anywhere on this earth.

"I mean it," the voice would say more forcefully. "Stop. Playing. With. The. Pens."

I had two favorites. There was a beautiful green Aurora fountain pen that didn't take cartridges. It could only be filled from an inkwell. It was less than $300. The other was my Holy Grail of pens -- an artist series Alexander Dumas Mont Blanc fountain pen! It was only $375 and had a rhodium...

"Mr. Haworth!" the manager nearly shouted, handing me paper towels and a bottle of cleaner. "No more pens! Now clean the pen counter off where you drooled on it!"

Like I said, strict and unforgiving. Go figure!

Here is the first poem I have to share with you. This poem and a comment from my wife inspired this post...

A good pen can write
A great one inspire.
So put pen to paper
And see what will transpire
--Kilgore Trout

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Poetry Contest for April

In case you didn't know, April is National Poetry Month. Fuzzy, Black Dogs is collecting poems and also will be having a give-away later this month. I've included more details at the end of this post.

In honor of this most special month, I'm torturing all my students by imparting my vast knowledge of poetry upon them.

"Uhh, Mr. Haworth," a girl in one of my classes asked recently. "Does bug rhyme with rain?"

It seems like I may have my work cut out for me there. Regardless, here are some of my own fun poems I'd like to share with you.

Roses are wilted
Violets are dead.
Forgot to water them.
Here's a poem instead.


Oh, fuzzy, black dogs,
Why do you smell?
Why do you stink
Like eternal #^££!

And why did you eat
The remote control.
The TV lies dormant,
>@%¥ your dog soul!

Not everything I write is funny or ridiculous. I wrote this Shakespearean-style sonnet for my wife before we got married.

In autumn days the wind grows strong
And the earth gets hard and cold,
The springtime warmth will thaw the throngs
Of flowers so bright and bold;
What chance does that which lives
Against such changing weather
Its life it ultimately gives
For nothing will go on forever.
But if your warmth and your love
Were to crush beneath such a pressure
My life would surely go on, but above
And beyond any earthly pleasure.
Your personal changes will always affect me,
But your love is my sole stability.

Here is a poem my son just thought up for this post. I apologize for his weirdness.

This is a haiku.
It's a type of poetry,

One of my favorite funny poems comes from "Bloom County," one of the greatest cartoons ever created. The character Steve has written a poem for a sorority girl he has a crush on. In an effort to impress her, he recites the poem drunk and naked on her front porch.

"In my dreams
You're all I sees.
Boobs, butt and knees.
Won't you please
Be my main squeeze."

For the month of April, send me some of your funniest poems. I will publish some of them in my posts throughout this month. I will be picking one random winner to receive a $10 Barnes & Noble gift card (yeah, I'm broke!).

Here are the details. Here's how you can enter to win the gift card. 1. Send me your poetry -- one entry. 2. Follow my blog -- one entry. 3. Like Fuzzy, Black Dogs on Facebook -- one entry. 4. Share Fuzzy, Black Dogs on your wall -- one entry. 5. Follow me on Twitter (@phillip_haworth) -- one entry. 6. Leave a comment on the blog including how many entries you have entered and where. Deadline for entries is April 14 at midnight. The winner will be announced on April 16th.