Author: Bob Benz

Categories
Dog Bob

The Ninja Dognapper

During a recent business trip to Atlanta, I met the Ninja Dognapper. She’s a gorgeous blonde who can’t stand to see a dog in distress. It bothers her so much, in fact, that she goes out in the dark of night, dressed in black and armed with hotdogs, to liberate canines who are living lonely lives at the end of chains.

As we were driving around Atlanta in her dogmobile (complete with a dashboard that has been chewed by one of her grateful pooches), she detailed how she can’t resist the temptation to sneak into some half-wit’s yard to liberate a dog who is being abused or neglected.

I asked her if she was afraid of getting shot by some pissed off weasel, and she didn’t even flinch. The dog’s welfare is just too important to pause at such peril. She’s not even worried the dog might turn on her. Enough hot dogs will appease even the most savage of beasts.

I left Atlanta with a newfound faith in humanity and wishing I had the balls and bravery to do the same, especially after reading the plight of the forlorn St. Bernard that some piece of shit redneck had on a chain in Tennessee. The poor thing got tangled in its chain and chewed its own leg off to escape. Thank god the Ninja Dognapper is out there, moving stealthily through the night, saving Man’s best friend from Man.

Categories
Techno Bob

Looking for an angry fix …

OK. Now I know I have an addiction.

I’ve often heard the Blackberry referred to as a “Crackberry,” to the point where it got a little old. Then my Blackberry died a horrible, unfortunate death. And I came to realize what an utter, hopeless junky I’ve become.

I was on the porch last night trying to kill a wasp that had wandered in. I took a mighty swing … and missed, leaving a pissed off wasp streaming toward me. My survival instinct kicked in and I started hopping around, trying to get out of the way.

That’s when my Blackberry popped out of my breast pocket, flopped through the air and crashed onto the wood decking.

I picked it up, praying it would still work. And it did. Or so I though. But it wasn’t able to find the network. I was cut off. No e-mail. No calls. Just a constant, nagging “Searching for CDMA” note on the phone.

I knew I had to go to Atlanta the next day, and the thought of being out in the world without the cool comfort of my Blackberry really rattled me. I started to twitch. I called Verizon and begged them to show mercy on me. Their advice was to take it to the nearest Verizon store and see if it could be resurrected.

So this morning that’s what I did. But by that point, I was sweating profusely and I kept looking at the Blackberry’s screen in the hope of seeing some sign of life … a new message, a Facebook alert, a Gmail notice. Nothing.

The Verizon folks were great. I think it was refreshing that I actually admitted the Blackberry’s demise was my own doing. Or maybe they saw what a mess I was and realized it would be better to feed my jones than deal with the consequences. They offered to replace it for 50 bucks, which I eagerly agreed to. Phone service restored, I sped home to re-establish my Blackberry’s intimate relation with the Maroon Ventures Exchange Server. Mission accomplished. And in crisis, as is often the case, I came to self-awareness. I’m an addict. And maybe the stupid Crackberry joke isn’t so stupid after all. Just make sure I have my fix and there won’t be any trouble …

Categories
Art Bob Travel Bob

Miracles on the border

retablos.jpgDuring my trip to Austin last week, I managed to find time to hit a few art galleries. The Mexic-Arte Museum on Congress is featuring an exhibit called The Huge and the Small, where several pieces caught my eye. The exhibit mixes large and small works, including Gustavo Monroy‘s “Totem,” a large five-pieces work that appears to be a meditation on the Garden of Eden myth

On the small side of the equation, I flashed back to some of the tiny Dutch paintings I saw in the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. Xavier Esqueda’s “La Fertilidad Incipiente” was excellent and I really liked an ipod piece by Jose Antonio Hernandez Vargas. It was called “A Negra,” and featured a swirl of flies buzzing around the screen of a video ipod forming the letter A. It was the music playing in the background that first drew me to it. Never figured out what it was, though. Haunting. Or maybe hypnotic is a better description.

And then I drifted into an exhibit called “Retablos: Miracles on the Border.” Great stuff. The retablos are done on wood or metal by people who want to thank a saint for a miracle. The retablos range from the poignant to the rough-hewn. My favorite told the story of a man who petitioned St. Michael the Archangel so the documents for his pickup truck would come through. The retablo, on metal with spots of rust showing through, thanks the saint for interceding and ensuring the paperwork was delivered. Behind the steering wheel of a pickup truck sits the petitioner, a pleased smile on his face.

There were numerous retablos of this sort. It was amazing to drift through them and read these people’s tales of personal miracles, many of which were tied to immigration to the U.S. from Mexico.

The museum itself is strange in a good way. It’s small, almost claustrophobic, with low ceilings that often forced me to duck lights when I was standing in front of the retablos. It has a very cool gift shop that managed to liberate a few dollars from me. Definitely worth checking out if you happen to drift through Austin …