The Pitbulls of Babylon in Adjunct to 8/9/2013 flash friday; a trinity of flashs

Oh the pit-bulls of Babylon

Are not departed or gone

They were waiting for me when I thought

That I could not go on

They brought me a bone and later they brought me this song

Oh I hope you run into them you who’ve been traveling so long --- Paraphrased L. Cohen

It’s gotten to where it bores the bejesus out of me but it’s habit and so I go there daily; I have a RPG style mafia gang called the Pitbulls of Babylon with characters like Pitbull of the Steppes, Relentless Drool, Boundless Savagery (with a picture of eight week old gray pudgy pit on the sidewalk looking all puppyish and cute) Pitbull Vanguard, Pawful of Trouble (used to be I Et Your Kitty, but some other gangster got all upset by that as she had a kitty et twenty years ago) --- All the icons are either my own dogs sleeping or smiling or both or stock puppy pics.

I don’t think most of the other players get any of the joke part of all that, but I will freely admit my general prejudice that it’s a stupid site and a stupid game and anyone spending more time than I do there can’t really have anything better to do.

A few decades ago I attended this seminar and the leader was talking about excessive masturbation and my partner (in a work sense, please) raised his hand and asked how much, exactly, qualified as excessive. The leader said “Anyone who jerks off more than me is excessive.” I pulled at my partners sleeve to keep him from raising and asking “and how much is that?” Much like geometry it turns out I didn’t find a practical real life need for that knowledge, at least not yet. Or, it’s possible, I just didn’t recognize the opportunity of practical application.

Even my most frivolous and meaningless entry on a journaling site is time better spent than playing an old school RPG with dumbasses. I can’t bring myself, however, to delete characters with the icons of Herschel, Levi or Otis. Every few days they get into gruesome fights and wretched name calling that I’m not even aware of (you don’t need to participate in a fight to be in one). Once in a great while there will be a message like “Oh, that’s funny” or “What cute dogs”. Um, just as infrequently but with the same frequency “I don’t get it” or “Nice dogs, what kind?”

With Both Herschel and Levi there was no mistaking the breed. An Innuit born in an ice cave and raised without ever seeing people or dogs could see Herschel and/or Levi and would understand right away that they were Pitbulls. Well, Levi at any rate. Herschel looked exactly like a poster pit but bigger, that’s how I got away with calling him a toy mastiff.

… and I’m spent.