Happy St. Patrick's Day, 2011!

I know that I've been in reruns lately, but St. Patrick's Day is a Turbo tradition. I've discussed this fine holiday in previous years, and this year is no exception.

I have mentioned in previous years that my Human grew up in this stupid town called Rolla, MO. They don't have a lot to be proud about there. But they have this university there that used to be called the Missouri School of Mines. Then they started calling it University of Missouri at Rolla. But now they call it MST, which doesn't stand for Mighty Siberian Turbo. It stands for Missouri [University of] Science [and] Technology. (The "University of" and the "and" are silent.)

So that school teaches humans about science and technology, apparently. I guess engineering is something like science and technology because they are famous for teaching people engineering. This St. Patrick guy is supposed to be the patron saint of engineering. My Human (who is not an engineer) said she was told that it has something to do with St. Pat driving the snakes out of Ireland. Snakes look something like worms. Engineers made worm-drives, so...

Anyway, human logic is weird.

Back to that stupid town of Rolla. Every year the M[Uo]S[a]T has a big party to celebrate St. Patrick's day. Part of the celebration involves humans buying St Pat's sweatshirts. Each year they come out with new ones. There are many engineer humans who have shirts from many, many years. Here is the design of this year's shirt:



They also have other celebrations.For example, the St Pat's Board paints the main street (called Pine Street) with lots of stinky stuff (called Alice) that has turned green. If you want to read what I wrote in 2009 about Alice, click here. Or if you doubt my spin, read this link. Here's more about the painting of Pine Street for you scholars.

Although, I did not make it down to Rolla during my campaign for the US House of Representatives, I have a feeling that the citizens and visitors to Rolla would have been very receptive to the message of this dog running for office. I declared myself elected, anyway, so it's all okay.

Turbo Birthday 2011 Edition

Once again it's time for my birthday. As tradition dictates, here is the official picture of my mask progression:


And here is the non-official birthday portrait:


Now, cheese & bacon for all!

Repeat: In Honor of Frank Buckles

In May of 2008, I posted the following post. Sadly, Mr. Buckles passed away on Sunday at the age of 110.

---------------------------------------------

woo!

In honor of Memorial Day, I am featuring something I found while on my quest to find husky mascots. I have been wanting to honor Frank Buckles for some time, but I can't do it as well as Jade Womack did in the Lasso Online (the student newspaper of George Mason High School).

Relating to the Oldest American Veteran

By Jade Womack (May 26, 2008)

In honor of Memorial Day and the many veterans of our country, Lasso Online has kept this article until now to help Mustangs remember how much we can learn and relate to the courageous soldiers who have fought and will fight for the U.S.A. A few months ago, I had the privilege of meeting Frank Buckles, who is the last surviving World War I soldier in America. Ideally he is the oldest soldier currently in America. He is the single thread that keeps World War I from slipping into secondhand memory. At 107 years old, he has seen so much history firsthand that students at Mason now study in textbooks.

He was eleven when the Titanic sank, “It was big news.” he said. He remarked children that actually read the newspaper at that time. At two years old, Ford Motor Company was created and around seven, the first plastics were invented. He drove the family car when he was twelve and at the bright age of thirteen, he bought his first telegraph. At the age of fifteen, he worked as a bank teller. He bought his first TV in the 1960’s for $100. (The dollar was worth more when he was a child.) He remembers reading several accounts of when the Red Baron was shot down.

At age sixteen, the United States entered World War I and Buckles was eager to join to serve his country. He lied about his age and told them he was eighteen. Since there was no Air Force, his choices were the Army, Navy, or Marines. He applied first to the Marines and was told he was not heavy enough. He then went to the Navy and was turned down because of his flat feet. He then went to two Army recruiting centers. The first time he was again turned down because of his age; he had to be twenty-one. Buckles didn’t give up and went to another center; however, the officer wanted proof of his age. “I said where I came from there weren’t birth certificates.” he notes. The officer believed him, and Buckles was sent to Kansas for training in the ambulance corps. He believed that was the easiest way to get to France.

When on a ship in Norfolk, a fortune teller came aboard and told him that he would have seven good years, then some horrible years. He stated that she was correct for he had seven wonderful years aboard the ship. He had the chance to transfer to another but turned it down because he was happy there. Then World War II broke out and his ship was turned into a merchant ship for the Marines.

Soon after, in the Philippines, he and the crew were captured by the Japanese and spent 39 months as prisoners of war. Although he wasn’t tortured, many around him starved to death. “There was a chap that everyone liked,” Buckles said. “He always tried to be cheerful. But he became weak. He said, ‘Frank, I’m not going to make it.’ The next day, he died. Maybe I made it because I had the will to survive, but many died.”

I asked him about his opinion on all the schedules people have for their lives. He asked “What’s the rush” of today’s instant news, schedules, and information age? Buckles doesn’t have a computer and doesn’t know he has a Wikipedia page. In addition, he does not currently own a television and thinks people watch too much of it. He said one of the problems today is people no longer read.

No one had a driver’s license when he was in his teens. Buckles was able to master the art of driving from the car dealer. However, when he tried to teach his father later, they crashed into their fence because his father kept yelling “Whoa! Whoa!” to the car and did not know how to use the brake.

Church in Buckles day was not only a forum for religion, but a way to socialize. He stated that he used to like this red headed girl, but he couldn’t see her because she went to a different church. “You didn’t call on the telephone.” Back in those days the only way to “flirt” with a girl would be at church.” You could walk her home in front of her parents.” Buckles relates. So he begged his parent to change churches. “And they did!” he said. Then he could walk with her on the way home. He added his advice on love—“Don’t get married until you can afford it.”

I asked him advice he would give today to high school students. “Everyone tries to get rich,” he said. “But money can disappear very quickly. Being rich is a brief situation.” Furthermore, he remarked that people should strive to get a job they enjoy and can support themselves without help from anyone. “A person should never go into anything they don’t like,” he said.

He can remember when he was eighteen and women got the right to vote. He said it wasn’t long ago and it was a good thing. “Yet it [woman being able to vote] should have happened long time ago. There isn’t a thing a man can do that a woman can’t do.”

I asked him: Who was the worst president he lived under and who was the best? He was only eight months old when McKinley was killed, but he was the worst, or at least that was what his parents always told him. The best president was Theodore Roosevelt in his opinion. He knew several of Roosevelt’s children personally.

Nevertheless, he liked John Kennedy because “We needed someone young in there.” When I asked about Nixon, Buckles said, “Nixon might have used bad language, but his foreign policy was fine.” With current politics, he thinks the Iraq conflict is a mistake, “and we have no business being there.”

Yet, how does he survive? The oldest man ever recorded to live was around 120 which Buckles could pass in thirteen years. His secret is exercise. He does around 50 sit-ups every morning while still in bed at 107 years old. He worked on his farm until three years ago and drove his car until he was 100.

When asked about World War I, he stated that his generation had been forgotten. All around the mall there are monuments for World War II, Vietnam, and Korea. Where is World War I’s? “It’s about time.” Time is something that this WWI [veteran] has cherished. He says the secret of his long life was “The will to survive.”

Ha Roo!

woo!
I apologize for denying you of my wit and wisdom. As the world should know by now, the government refused to recognized that I was elected to US Congress. Something stupid about the fact there was no Missouri 14th Congressional District. Nevertheless, I declared myself to be a Congressdog. I am serving in absentia.

Speaking of absentia, we got a little bit of snow here. Unfortunately, it wasn't the 21 inches we were promised. It was more like 18 inches. Here's some pictures:

This is my house at the mid-point of the storm:

It's Rooie & me:

Here's the back "yard:"

And, finally, here's some snow:

Finally!

I apologize to all of you who have been waiting anxiously for my 1,000th blog post. I could give you all sorts of excuses, but that's not the Turbo Way. So, I'm moving on. And speaking of moving, we are all officially moved into our new house on the shores of Lake Tubey. My Human had to get Summiiiiiiii's Mummiiiiiiiii to help her get these photos of me looking magnicent yesterday:





I want to take a moment to thank each and every one of you for taking time occasionally to read my blog. When I started it back at the end of February 2006, I never would have thought that I'd do this many posts and make this many blogging friends.

Now, in celebration, cheese & bacon for all!

999th Post

First, here is an important poll. You can tell it's legit because the correct answer is not the first choice!



So, this is my 999th blog post. And it's probably the last one I will do from the current Turbohouse. We will be moving to a new Turbohouse over this next weekend. It is on the banks of the lovely Lake Tubey.



In the mean time, here's a picture of me looking particularly cute to tie you over:

Non-Stupid News Article

Ha roo, everywoo! Today was the day we were all waiting for. Vox, a local magazine featured us today. And as an additional treat, the fine, esteemed journalist who penned and shot the feature also had a blog entry about us!

In other news, it's still hot & stupid outside.

Oh, in case you were wondering about this picture of me...My Human found an old house slipper that was shaped like a gorilla. She gave it to me to deal with. And dealt with it I did!

Stupid News Article

I was reading the news to see what was going on in the world of huskies. I found this article about how some insurance companies consider various dog breeds to be "dangerous."

Here's a very stupid sentence from the article (emphasis mine):

As a breed, Siberian Huskies are closely related to wolves, closely related, but does that make her a dangerous dog?

Excuse woo!!!!! We huskies are no closer related than any other domestic dog. (See, for example, Dr. Robert Wayne's research.) We may look more like wolves than my Yorkie friends, like Mary-Margaret O'Brien.

I think that if I was editing the news story, I'd include this sentence:

Humans are slightly related to apes, slightly related, however they are still stupid!

Happy Independence Day & Name Game

Happy Independence day everydog! It's getting closer to when there won't be any more stupid fireworks. Hang in there!

Some pups out there are playing the Name Game that Frankie Furter suggested. I thought I'd join in on the fun because I like talking about myself.

A really long time ago, around 1992, my Human started going to dog shows. Back then she didn't have her dog. She had to live vicariously through others. My Human walked around the arena looking at all the dogs. There was one dog in particular that stood out to her. He was the Afghan Hound that I am featuring in this post. His name was Ch. Casbar Turbo-Charge. My Human became friends with that Turbo's humans, and she decided that someday she would have a show dog of her very own.

But she didn't want to get an Afghan Hound.

Lex was the first dog room mate my Human had of her very own. He's half Akita/half Siberian Husky. She decided that Lex needed a friend, so she invited Meepie to move in. Meep's all Sibe, of course. Then there was Fargo. And then me. (Rooie moved in after me.)

I was going to be her show dog. But circumstances beyond both of our control prevented that from happening. However, I did get the name Huricane Akara Turbofire.

Most everywoo knows me by my nickname of Tubey. My Human started calling me that around the time that she started wasting time on the forms of a website called Television Without Pity. Their mascot is an angry little television set called Tubey.

Something I Don't Understand

Of course there are many things I don't understand about humans. For example, why don't the appreciate the smell of the dead things we roll around in. And why do they need a tool called a "shovel" to dig holes. But at this time of year I always wonder why so many humans enjoy playing with explosive devices. Fireworks. As my supporters should know, I think fireworks are stupid. I don't like things that startle me. I am a brave dog, of course. But enough is enough! That is why fireworks are on my long list of stupid things that I will ban when I'm elected to Congress. (Also included on the list are lightning & thunder, seizures, vacuum cleaners, etc.)

I want to remind all humans to be careful not to startle their animal friends this (and any) weekend. Your animal friends do not need to accompany you to see the fireworks show. In fact, they aren't even interested to see photographs of it. You should feed your animal friends cheese & bacon instead!

End of June

As all huskies know, hot weather is stupid. I think that the only positive I can woo about the fact that it is the end of June is that that means it is getting closer to Winter with each passing day. I guess I'm an optimist!

I realized that I needed to update my blog about the reporters that can to visit this week. First of all, my Human kept me inside the house while she talked to them! I'm not sure what was up with that. Obviously, that was stupid. I think all dogs, goats, & cats would agree with me that humans are always trying to steal their animal friend's glory.

After the reporters talked to my Human, we Sibes got to come out to meet and greet. Plenty of pictures were taken of us. I'm sure they got my good side. Afterall, I don't have a bad side!

I was told that the article would be out on July 15th. I will post the link when it is available.

Meet The Press

Good news for all appreciators of Dogs With Blogs &, of course, me. This week I will meet with an esteemed journalist (who is not Katie Couric) at my house. Interestingly, she is from the same port city that Cap'n Maverick is based. I'm sure that she will want to know my plans for improving our great nation's economy, the environment, world peace, ecology, and many other topics. (My short answers to these topics involve cheese & bacon, of course.)

My Human is acting as my Press Secretary. She advised the journalist not to wear black, for some reason. (Humans...)

Anywoo, I'll be posting a link to the magazine article when it's available.

Oh yeah, I've learned something that I want to share. I allow Flickr to host my pictures that my Human takes. My Human was stupid and messed around with the "permissions." As a result many of the pix links changed and some of my older blog postings don't show the pictures. I'm forcing my Human to go back through and relink everything. That'll take some time because I am just a few postings shy of 1000 right now.

In Color

woo!
My Human has been playing with black & white settings with the camera. I didn't want you to forget what I look like in color, though. She's been playing with natural light. That is fine by me, because I don't have to deal with the flashy beast that way.


I think I'm looking a lot like my niece, Cornelia Marie, in this picture:


I also wanted to share pictures of our stupid clouds yesterday. I was telling Ammy of the Army of Four that they only storm I want to see at my house is her friend Storm!

The Big Woo Conference

woo!
Apparently, a lot of human, including my Human, are all worked up about the Big XII Conference disintegrating. Or something. My Human spent her late teen and early 20's locked up in an institution of high learning in Missouri called Mizzou. (Please note that the humans pronounce the word XII as 12.)

I don't know what’s going on anymore than any humans do. But from what I understand, some universities got mad at some other universities. They took all their toys home and tried to find new groups of playmates.

Whatever.

Anywoo, my Human's old school doesn't have anyone to play with.

So, I decided to form my own Conference. I'm calling it the Big Woo Conference. I am offering membership only to universities with dogs for mascots. I hope to get the Washington Huskies, Connecticut Huskies, Bloomsburg Turbo-Colored Huskies, Northeastern Huskies, Southern Illinois University Salukis, Georgia Bulldogs, etc.

I will be nice and let the Mizzou Tigers, Kansas Jayhawks, Kansas State Wildcats, Iowa State Cyclones, and any other team from the soon-to-be-former Big XII Conference join the Big Woo Conference. But only if they change their mascots to a dog breed. My new Conference has standards, you know.

Shadowy

woo!
Me.


Roo.


Lex.

Ear

I like to lick Fargo's ear. Sometimes I lick it because he has an ear infection. Sometimes I lick it when I am upset about something. Other times I lick it because I just plain want to.

Fargo doesn't necessarily like me to lick his ear, though. But I don't let that stop me. You might be able to tell by this picture that Fargo is thinking "Stop cleaning my ear!"

My Human doesn't like me to lick Fargo's ear, either. I don't want to let that stop me. But sometimes she forces me to stop.

Humans are stupid.

Sometimes...

...you just have to yell!

Repeat: Timing Belt or Siberian Husky?

.

This entry is a repeat of one that I posted 2 years ago and a year before that.

On Sunday of Memorial Day weekend in 1999, my Human was driving her car around noon and the timing belt broke.

On Saturday of Memorial Day weekend in 2000, my Human decided that Lex needed a friend. She went to the local animal shelter. She originally thought that she wanted to get a female, but none of them appealed to her. She then saw a dog labeled "Cochise." She liked him a lot, so she adopted him. Cochise became Misha Meep. (Below is Meepie's first photo after he came home.)

One year later on Memorial Day weekend 2001, my Human went to the local Farmer's Market and the animal shelter had an information booth. The woman who had handled Meep's adoption was working. My Human thanked her for helping out with Meepie. The woman said that the shelter had a red husky that they were calling Blaze. My Human decided to go over to "look" at the husky and to get information to help find him a home. She visited several times. No one was adopting Blaze, so my Human decided that if he was still there on Wednesday, she would adopt him. He was still there, so on Friday Fargo North Dogkota became a member of the family. (Below is the first photo of Fargo.)


My Human did not get a new Husky during Memorial Day weekend 2002. But that Sunday afternoon around noon her timing belt broke. This was especially stupid because her car had a rebuilt engine put in on the previous Thursday, but the mechanics put the used timing belt on her engine.


Since then my Human has not had to replace any timing belts and she has not added any Huskies during Memorial Day weekend. Now she tries not to drive anywhere at noon on the Sunday before Memorial Day.

You Can Vote For The Meep

woo!
Dr. Misha Meepenstein was kind enough to give me a shout out on his Facebook page, so I am returning the favor. This picture of Meepie is up for voting on the Purina site. You can vote by clicking on it.

Sit Down Meal

woo!
This is how Fargo decided to eat his dinner tonight: