Young pups "Stumped" by Westminster Best in Show

By Gale Hammond

Bring 2,500 canines to New York's Madison Square Garden, add a crowd of 20,000 cheering fans and what do you get? Well, besides an awful lot of barking, you get a Scottish terrier that had to "go" in an unscheduled pit stop, a poofy black poodle with an elaborate "do," a giant schnauzer that was actually favored to win and, oh yeah - you get "Stump" - the 10-year-old Sussex spaniel that took Best in Show at the prestigious Westminster Kennel Club's annual dog show recently.

Of course you know what this means, friends. Yes, it's a great victory for the old guy. And you would think this mellow fellow would have been content to finish out his days with some rawhide chewies and a nice warm bed by the fire, wouldn't you? Well, you'd think.

But maybe Stump (who is, remember, 70 in "people years") decided he just wasn't in the right frame of mind for retirement. For getting old. For being put out to pasture and out of touch. Maybe old Stump decided to prove that getting older isn't necessarily about getting redundant. Maybe he decided that getting older was, indeed, about getting better.

The cool thing about dogs - and probably other animals but I know more about dogs having been owned by several of them over the years - is that they don't let a little dementia get them down.

A bit of arthritis? Well, shoot - once they have stretched a minute or two, older dogs are as willing as any young pup to chase a ball or fetch a stick. And I'm guessing that dogs believe a little snow on the roof might be a good thing, too. It sure didn't hurt old Stump as he whipped those young "slumdogs" into their respective places at the Garden.

Amazingly, Stump was nearly a goner a few years ago. When he came down with a mysterious ailment that was causing him to waste away, vets at Texas A&M brought him back to health. And perhaps there's nothing like a trip to death's door to make one appreciate the sweetness of life.

So almost on a whim, five days before the show his trainer entered Stump so he could take a last turn on the green carpet at the Garden. And the thing is, nobody explained to Stump that just because he'd reached retirement age it became compulsory for him to stop working because he was, well, you know … "old."

Try telling that to people these days. We bore witness to a contest between an "old pooch" and a "young pup" recently. And what were we repeatedly told about John McCain? Yep - he was old. Older than dirt. Older than God. Never mind the political side of things. McCain was just "too old."

The neat thing about Stump, and what made him such a crowd pleaser at the Westminster, was nobody imposed society's prejudices upon him. Part of what made him such a winner in everybody's eyes was that he IS an old dog. The oldest dog, in fact, to ever win the Westminster. And Stump, the wise old gentleman with the quiet manner, plodding gait and placid brown eyes, was impervious to experts' consensus that he never stood a chance in the ring with all of that powerful competition.

And what do you suppose old Stump was thinking as he trotted around the ring in the company of some pretty high-priced competition, some of which were, relatively speaking, entire decades younger than him? Do you suppose it was kind of what any laid back elder might be thinking surrounded by a gaggle of preening, prancing, pooping youngsters?

Yep, old Stump was probably feeling a heck of a lot of relief that he had grown beyond all that stuff. Because remember back in the day when you had that drive in you that said you just had to be "cool?" One of the in-crowd? At his advanced age, Stump might have assumed the same kind of attitude that other sensible 70-year-olds adopt - the wisdom that at some point in life, sometime when you didn't even realize it, caring about that elusive "cool quotient" had simply slipped quietly by the wayside.

Imagine. Stump was no doubt looking around at all the tail sniffing and growling and hissy-fitting and thinking, "I am SO over all that stuff." He'd shake his old head with the big floppy ears, take another turn around the ring and know that he had worked hard and earned his rightful place in the sun. That folks were going to like and respect him - not because he was an old dog who had learned some new tricks - but because folks were paying attention to a few of his old ones.

So maybe Stump, the oldest winner of the 133rd annual Westminster Best in Show, was letting all of us nonbelievers out here know that triumphant aging is, after all, in the attitude and that getting older isn't such a bad thing after all. And - hey! That it sure beats the alternative.

Super Bowl ads "winged" by Philly gorge-fest

Feb 4, 2009 By Gale Hammond

So another Super Bowl is relegated to the history books, and by Super Bowl standards, Super Bowl XLIII was a pretty decent game. But as in years past, the game was partially overshadowed by its many, um … accoutrements. Even NBC, who hosted the extravaganza, jumped on the Super Bowl bandwagon with a pre-game interview of a casually dressed President Barack Obama at the White House.

But the new president wasn't why Americans were tuned in on Sunday. Oh, no; and while the Super Bowl games are an American institution, two other mainstays crucial to the Super Bowl were vying for our attention: those Super Bowl ads and that special "cuisine" peculiar to Super Bowl Sunday.

Much is made of the storied Super Bowl ads. With one out of every three Americans tuned in for the big game, this is advertiser heaven and, yes, ad costs are astronomical. Going for a cool $100,000 per second, those clever "mad men" are perpetually on the hot seat to create better and more inventive ads each time Super Bowl Sunday rolls around.

The trouble is, this year brought on a slight problem or two. Besides a tanking economy and low consumer spending, no innovative products have appeared on the marketing scene recently. This spells trouble on Madison Avenue when past "Super Sundays" have hyped a cornucopia of new consumer products like the Toyota Prius, Apple's Macintosh, the Fusion razor by Gillete, the Discover card and mega drug company Eli Lilly's Cialis, all of which made their world debuts during the Super Bowl.

This year, with the economy gone bust, a few corporations wisely made some adjustments to the Super Bowl's ad roster. Notice the absence of the "Big Three" automaker commercials? Yep, the corporate suits in Detroit astutely figured out that Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Taxpayer know what a Super Bowl ad costs and would be unappreciative of their bailout funds going to pay the tab for $3 million commercials in the prime Super Bowl time slots.

Career-searching Web site ads were prevalent on Sunday. With unemployment numbers mounting, these ads were a sign of the times and took aim at the employed as well as out-of-work job seekers. If you still have a job, perhaps you identified with the office worker whose desk supported the rear portion of the large antlered moose whose body was thrust through the wall while its head adorned the swanky office of a corporate big wig. The hapless employee's desk on the other side of the wall resided at the, um … "tail section" area of the mammal where the poor fool dealt with, well, mountains of "pollution" regularly raining down on his head.

"Yep, there's my office," moaned one of the observers at our Super Bowl gathering. See what I mean? The biggest scores weren't necessarily made on the football field.

Again this year, beverage commercials were plentiful and amusing. Anheuser-Busch, with its long-term contract of product exclusivity, brought out the big guns. Not to mention the really big horses: those awesome Clydesdales. And soft drink giant Pepsi scored a coup with its deal that blocked Coke commercials during the first half of the game. Pepsi and Coke took the fun and fantasy route in their ads for the "feel good" component people seek in hard economic times.Sometimes what you don't see in an ad makes a pretty good point. When a dog food company makes a commercial advocating dog adoption without a single dog in sight, it may seem like a pretty risky move. But put assorted other livestock into the ad like a rhino, a rampaging ostrich, a large-tusked boar and even a good-natured cow that gets bonked in the nose with a Frisbee, add a wink and a nod to "get a dog" at the ad's conclusion - and you've got a dang clever commercial.

Fan favorite ads included USA Today's Ad Meter $1 million winner for Doritos (made by Indiana amateurs for a pittance), Budweiser's "Daisy" love story and Bridgestone's Mr. And Mrs. Potato Head. Me? I cracked up over Denny's hilarious "Thugs" where hard-core mafia types linger over a diner breakfast in a dismal discussion about a pair of cement shoes (so to speak) for somebody who'd had an unfortunate rift with the "family." The friendly waitress spraying whipped cream clown faces over the diners' pancake breakfast plates was classic funny business.

But if Sunday's Super Bowl ads seemed a little lackluster and your fondest activity during this year's game was the business of chowing down those scrumptious Super Bowl snacks, then have I got a news flash for you. In Philadelphia, John "Super" Squibb won the annual "Wing Bowl" by downing 203 chicken wings in 20 minutes. Think about THAT for a minute, people! "Super" walked away with a new car, a crown of miniature chickens and a $7,500 diamond ring. Oh, and a little heartburn. Yep: makes all those Super Bowl ads pale in comparison.

Deja vu: 2008, Part Deux?

Jan 28, 2009 By Gale Hammond

Years from now as historians hunch over their laptops dissecting the events of 2008, they'll be scratching their collective heads and muttering, "What the ...?"

No, friends, it won't be easy explaining "what went wrong" in 2008 that precipitated the numerous sea of changes that occurred last year such as the tanking of the U.S. economy and Oprah's 40-pound weight gain. Nor, unfortunately, are such disasters necessarily confined to a single calendar year, and 2009 is shaping up as no exception.

Yes, you celebrated the end of 2008 by gaily sipping champagne from your boss's shoe at the annual New Year's Eve office party, believing whole-heartedly along with the rest of us that the country had reached the end of the mayhem. Sadly, it was not to be, and January 2009 evolved into a prolonged continuation of 2008. So to keep you, an informed citizen, abreast of events that shaped the last month, at great personal sacrifice I undertook exhaustive research consisting of approximately 45 seconds.

As the country watched the stock market careen madly downward, more industries sought funds from the nation's government. Financial institutions and auto makers lined up at the government's door attempting to secure federal bailout, er … "recovery" funds in order to save their failing industries.

The first week of January saw yet another major American industry seeking federal assistance. Adult entertainment publisher Larry Flynt and "Girls Gone Wild" CEO Joe Francis appealed for a $5 billion bailout of the suffering porn industry. "Works for me," stated former president Bill Clinton before naming himself overseer of funds disbursement for the porn industry's bailout plan. But you probably shouldn't quote me on that.

In mid-January America looked to the skies in two separate and very different incidents involving airplane pilots. Indianapolis financial advisor and private plane pilot Marcus Schrenker, apparently spurred on by all the talk of "bailouts," faked his own death by bailing out of his personal plane before letting it crash some 200 miles from where he exited the aircraft by parachute. Schrenker's wife had previously filed for divorce after learning of her husband's extra-marital affairs along with his improper business dealings. The unregistered investment adviser so embarrassed his relatives that the family dog has reportedly turned itself in at a local animal shelter.

Also in mid-January, US Airways made an effort to ease its economic woes by debuting its long anticipated "Air-and-Water" tour when pilot Chesley B. "Sully" Sullenberger landed his Airbus A320 in the Hudson River in freezing temperatures. Although the airline has wisely elected to suspend the "water" portion of the tour, Captain "Sully" managed to answer an age-old question: How many passengers can you get on the wings of an airplane? The answer: All of them.

On Jan. 20, the country witnessed the splendid inauguration of its first black president. The event made history when news analysts all agreed that the new First Lady was "beautifully dressed" and looked "young." Outgoing VP Dick Cheney staged a "sit-in" demonstration against the new administration by arriving in a wheelchair. And the music selections played by classical luminaries Yo-Yo Ma and Itzhak Perlman went off without a hitch because they were playing to their own pre-recorded music, an instrumental "lip-sync" if you will. Meanwhile, apparently still smarting from Barack Obama's negative vote to seat him on the Supreme Court bench, Chief Justice John Roberts flubbed the new president's oath of office by inserting the word "faithfully" in the wrong place. "Next time we're lip-syncing this thing," Roberts reportedly grumbled as he left the platform.

Doubly sworn in President Barack Obama was feeling the pinch in getting his cabinet seated by his inauguration. Timothy Geithner, Obama's beleaguered pick for treasury secretary, continued groveling, er … apologizing for making a $35,000 error on his personal income taxes. The soon-to-be secretary (and head of the IRS) reportedly said he wasn't incompetent or trying to evade paying his taxes but that he had been simply "rounding down."

And it felt like 2008 all over again the last week of January when the impeachment trial of Governor Rod "Blago" Blagojevich convened in the Illinois Senate. Charged with attempting to sell Barack Obama's vacated Senate seat, Blagojevich spent his court day conducting a media blitz, following up previous news conferences where he touchingly recited poetry. Blago, stating he would be cleared of any wrongdoing when he had his day in court, spent his day in court by being a no-show.

And in the "you just can't make this stuff up" department, Blagojevich revealed that before appointing former Illinois attorney general Roland Burris to the vacant Senate position, he considered naming Oprah Winfrey to fill the seat but feared such a pick would appear to be a "gimmick."

In another poignant moment, Blagojevich compared himself to a cowboy about to be hung without a fair trial and found solace in the plight of other wrongly persecuted leaders such as Nelson Mandela, the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. and Gandhi. So the questions remain: Will "Wrangler Rod" be redeemed? Will he ride off permanently into the sunset? Will anybody really care?With this audacious start to the New Year, what do you say we bid this "cowboy" - and January - a speedy "giddy-up."

OMG! Mom is on Facebook!

Jan 21, 2009
By Gale Hammond

Lest you fear that you will run out of ways to annoy your kids, I have good news. Facebook. Yes, that infamous compound word that isn't really a word at all has trickled outward beyond the world of Generation X and landed like a bombshell smack in the middle of those aging Baby Boomers.

If you think you're beyond getting the concept of Facebook, abolish that thought immediately. Additionally, never let it be said you are without friends in cyberspace. I am telling you from personal experience that one day you're minding your own business pecking away at your computer, and the next thing you know you are looking at an unexpected message saying that Ima U. Bumgardener wants to be your friend.

Well. Never mind that you haven't seen nor heard from Ima in about 47 years because there it is: you have a friend request. So, not wanting to appear stuck up, you select a link, and with that one resounding click of the mouse you are forever bonded to folks populating the rest of the world, or at least approximately 150 million of them, via the electronic wizardry of Facebook.

Talk about six degrees of separation! One minute you're downloading the recipe for Aunt Dottie's Death by Chocolate Chunk Brownies and the next thing you know you've discovered you're related to Al Sharpton.

Yes, I am on Facebook. Now I wish I could tell you what that means exactly. I know I'm not doing nearly enough to justify my taking up space in the Facebook universe. But being on Facebook allows me to see what the world is up to. Snooping, if you will, but in a GOOD way. Because there on my homepage, next to my picture (carefully selected from photos shot this millennium because no fair using your high school yearbook photo if you're drawing social security) is a box made specifically to tell everyone exactly what it is you're doing "right now."

This means I can navigate around and encounter such juicy news as, "Ben is bummed about cleaning out the garage" or "Lois is looking forward to her next latte."

This brings up an important point: Boredom. Practically the number one "don't" about Facebook is don't be boring. Now I could just jump right in there with my own announcement to the world about what I'm doing right now. I mean, I COULD say "I'm sitting here in my bathrobe and it's already 2 p.m.," but seriously, people! You don't really need to know that, do you?

Then there is Facebook etiquette. Really. In fact, I made a short reference to a couple of the rules above. Remember the self portrait? Yep, it's really not fashionable to post a picture of yourself that is so old it was snapped before color processing was even invented.

The same goes with posting remarks and recounting events that might be a little questionable down the road. For instance, "How do you like my hot new thong underwear?" accompanied by a little Facebook fashion show of same might just come back and bite you someday on your exposed little, um…cheek.

And the jargon? Yes, today your knowledge of Internet slang may be limited to "lol" (laughing out loud), but don't worry. You'll soon get the hang of it.

When I decided to give Facebook a whirl, I was delighted by all the "Friends" requests I was getting. Suddenly everybody wanted to be my friend. Now mind you, four of those requests were from my two daughters and their respective spouses so technically a family member is also a friend on Facebook.

So there I was, a newbie on Facebook, happily collecting friends. In fact, you collect as many friends as you can, enjoying your newfound popularity among your friends on Facebook.

Until the day when you venture out and begin noticing how many friends your other friends have. My goodness - I thought my 18 friends were pretty impressive - until I realized that Daughter #2 and Son-in-law #1 both have over 100 friends on Facebook! Now how did that happen? I'm twice their age but have less than one fifth of their friends? Do I even KNOW 100 people? Probably not. Bummer.

But try not to play the numbers game and just let yourself go. Write something on a friend's wall, which is not at all like "graffiti" per se. While I'd not be happy if someone wrote (or spray painted) on an actual wall of my actual house, on Facebook this is where all kinds of communication takes place.

So if your kids are on Facebook, I say go for it! Because one thing is for sure: Facebook or no Facebook, parent-child relationships still get a little snarky. When my Facebook friend Kathy posted pictures of her new granddaughter on Facebook, her daughter wrote accusingly on her wall soon thereafter. "You didn't save the photos right," she sniffed. Yes, those little mother-daughter altercations follow you all the way to the Internet.

Times are Tough but Jack is Back!

Jan 15, 2009 By Gale Hammond

January is one of the longest months of the year consisting of approximately 97 days. Poor January is one of those months that is picked on by other months. January is jammed between December, which has all the "good" holidays including New Year's Eve, and February, which is anticipated primarily by teenage girls hoping for "Big Things" to happen on Valentine's Day.

So if you think the biggest thrill you'll have this month is checking out the January White Sales, you are probably right. Except for one important item: check your TV listings, people! If you are a "24" fan, help has arrived.

On a related note, a new administration is about to take over the country. Barack Obama's team is lined up, ready to jump into action. And the first jump they are likely to make is halting the downward spiral of the economy.

"What on earth," you are probably thinking, "does the new president have to do with '24,' and please get on with it because I have to leave shortly to pick up some new sheets before they run out of California King fitted bottoms!"

To which I say, "Have you NEVER seen Jack Bauer in action?" He is just what this country needs. If we put Jack in charge of fixing the economy, Obama and his team could get back to playing basketball.

Now we elected Obama because this man is no dummy, and his first day on the job might go something like this: President Obama phones Federal Agent Jack Bauer. Jack answers on his high-tech geek phone, which is so sophisticated it never needs a battery charge because heaven knows Jack has no time for plugging into a battery charger. President Obama, speaking on a far less superior apparatus, finds Jack in between beatings administered to him by the CIA.

Obama: "Hey, Jack! Listen, dude, I know you're on the lam from the FBI and you just got back from Africa and all, but I wondered if you might have some extra time to sort of, ahhhhh, you know, fix the economy?"
Jack: "Of course, Mr. President, I'll get right on it."
Obama: "Thanks, Jack! I'm counting on you, dude, and remember: dude without the 'e' is just another dud."

Now if you are thinking that nobody can go it alone fixing the economy, you don't know Jack. Jack Bauer is the embodiment of the word "maverick." Jack makes mavericks look like lemmings.

And sure enough, by the time the big hand moves to the next hour of "24," Jack is onto a sinister, malevolent scheme hatched by soulless extremists from foreign hostile nations. These radicals, known as Economy Terrorists or "ETs," are fanatically sucking America dry of all its assets including stocks, bonds, 401k plans and Suze Orman's pastel leather jackets.

Federal Agent Jack Bauer has infiltrated the top echelon of these rogue schemers who hatched their plan by kidnapping and torturing a brilliant German scientist until he agreed to implant billions of tiny high-speed viruses into the shaggy scalp of Illinois governor Rod Blagojevic. Moving stealthily via wireless micro-transmitters, these auto-executed programs are hacking into firewalls and instructing bank browsers to download trillions of U.S. dollars into ET accounts overseas.

Unfortunately, ET operatives have discovered Jack's plot to shear the head of Rod Blagojevic thus revealing the sophisticated economic WMDs concealed beneath the governor's massive mane. Jack, meanwhile, has made the alarming discovery that Blagojevic is not an actual person but an android built by extremists for the express purpose of housing hordes of virus portals under his weighty wig. Bauer unraveled the dastardly scheme when the life-like automation (affectionately nicknamed "Blago") began malfunctioning alarmingly by attempting to auction off Obama's vacant Illinois senate seat on eBay. Now in desperate difficulty, Jack places an urgent call to the Capitol:

Jack: "Mr. President! We must avert a matter of NATIONAL CRISIS. Enemy ET agents have me surrounded. I most likely can't get out of this alive. There is only one way to stop the country's financial downfall, Mr. President. You must HURRY! Take the new ATM card given to you by the First Lady. ET enemy agents have scanned the codes for all the country's banks and financial institutions onto that card. If you don't take it to an ATM and activate it immediately by inserting it into the slot and entering the correct password, it'll be too late! You must ACT NOW, Mr. President!"
Obama: "Will do, Jack. Say - what IS the password?"
Jack: (sadly): "You don't know, sir? Why, it's 'maverick!'"

It's Time to Bite the Bulgur

12:28 PM By Gale Hammond
If the members of your family are anything like mine, by now you have consumed every tired old Christmas cookie and piece of stale fudge that can be found. You dove between the sofa cushions, examined the area beneath the fridge, searched the various kitchen junk drawers and rifled through your coat pockets to be sure every last smidgen of holiday sweet stuff is gone. Vanished. Kaput.Yes, you are totally in control.

Eating healthy in 2009 is well under way, and you are the model of perfection in terms of grocery consumption. No more refined foods. Forget the sugar and the soft drinks. And fast food? Strictly forbidden.

So you are feeling quite full of yourself now that you have everything in order. Nothing but whole wheat breads and pastas will pass your lips. Fresh spinach, broccoli and fish are stashed in the fridge ready to fuel your body like a super-tuned Ferrari - once it lets go of all that chocolate and sugar and sprinkles and … oh, no.

You forgot about that red velvet cupcake with the mountainous pile of cream cheese frosting lurking in the trunk of your car - a souvenir of your niece's birthday party the other day. Darn your sister for forcing that last cupcake on you as you were heading out the door! You meant to consume the dang thing before you started your post-holiday diet but in all that sugar-haze, it flat-out slipped your mind.OK, you can give the cupcake to your dog. Or can you? It contains some chocolate, which is not so good for dogs, right? Well, scratch that idea. Just execute a supreme act of strength by carrying the blasted cupcake to the garbage disposal, plop that thing way down deep inside and turn on the water - fast! Nobody likes soggy cupcakes.

Good for you - the coast is clear. For now. Yes, there is nothing like a firm resolve to eat better, lose a few pounds and improve your overall health to make you obsess on all that junk that got you here in the first place, right? And OK, by "you" I actually mean "me." And so it was that I left the house with a sigh of relief the other day. Getting out of the house by taking the dog to his vet appointment was the best thing that could happen. No edible temptations at the vet's office, right? Unless you count the dog cookies for the canine patients but I wasn't going to be tempted by those dry things. Except if it was right before lunch …

Fortunately this trip to the vet's required a drive to Fremont to see the specialist that we visit because we couldn't have your normal, everyday run-of-the-mill dog. Oh, no, our dog has needs - which are another column entirely. But the good news was that for a couple of hours I'd get a reprieve from the dieting fixation.And things were progressing nicely. I had the pooch housed in his crate in the back seat and the radio was keeping us company en route.

Unlike TV, radio commercials don't assault you with extreme close-up burger commercials or pizza promotions, not to mention that true menace to society: chocolate.All was well as I drove up the 680 freeway approaching the Berryessa Road turnoff. Aw, BERRY-essa - kind of makes me think of those warm summer days when I'd whip up a little shortbread with berries and cream, and … oh, goodness. A sign for "Toll Brothers" - wonder what that is. Well I certainly know about "Toll" as in "Toll House cookies," those wonderful treats created back in the 1930s by Ruth Wakefield for travelers arriving at her Toll House Inn …

Whew! Almost got sidetracked by that one but there's Durham Road (and speaking of "Dur-HAM" - ever tried one of those delicious honey-baked things? That has to be the best stuff ever …) - STOP it! OK, passing the "Auto Mall Parkway" exit - nothing tempting there, right? Except for the food court at the MALL and darn - I can't remember the last time I had the opportunity to taste one of those yummy cinnamon rolls you smell the second you step inside the mall doors and - thank heaven, there's my exit.

Turning off at the Washington Street exit with barely a thought of George Washington chopping down the cherry tree and he could not tell a lie and it's definitely no lie that my mom made the world's best cherry pies, bar none, served warm from the oven with ice cream melting over the top and … oh, for Pete's sake, I need to think about healthy foods now. We made it! We are officially at the vet's office, being greeted warmly by the receptionist, and before I can stop myself I'm saying, "Hey, Diana - we'll take a couple of those little doggie cookies - to go, please!"