Apr 3 - 9

Ok, I am down in Santa Cruz with my wonderful Family and nothing has happened to write about. I was going to write about Cooper’s amazing ability to sculpture through defecation, but I was told I absolutely could not mention that. So I won’t. 

Ok, so my son-in-law, Bobby, said he could run my stories through an AI processor and it will write a story. So I sent him 3 of my stories and I gave it an idea and it came up with this. Scary.

 

The Artificial Intelligence story:

Ricky had always loved playing the guitar, plucking the strings and strumming chords until he found a melody that made him smile. His music could fill the house, bouncing off the walls and reverberating through the rooms. Some days, you could even hear him jamming from the other side of the street. But it seemed that Cooper, the family dog, had a different opinion altogether.

One day, Ricky decided to practice a new tune he'd been working on. He picked up his guitar, settled in his favorite spot on the couch, and began to play. The moment the first few notes escaped the instrument, Cooper's ears perked up, and he cocked his head to the side, as if trying to make sense of the noise invading his home.

Ricky continued to play, oblivious to Cooper's growing discomfort. The dog paced around the room, huffing and puffing with annoyance. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Cooper let out a low, rumbling growl, followed by a series of sharp, disgruntled barks. It was as if he was shouting, "Enough, already!"

Ricky stopped playing mid-strum, his fingers frozen on the fretboard. He looked at Cooper, his face a mix of surprise and amusement. Cooper stared back, his eyes practically screaming, "I'm not kidding, pal. That's enough!"

Sensing a new opportunity for fun, Ricky decided to test Cooper's limits. He started playing again, this time louder and more boisterous than before. Cooper's barks grew more intense, and he leaped onto the couch, planting himself firmly between Ricky and his guitar.

Ricky couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. His dog was staging a musical protest! He put down his guitar and gave Cooper a gentle pat on the head. "Alright, buddy," he conceded, "I'll practice somewhere else for a while."

Cooper seemed satisfied with the truce, wagging his tail as if to say, "Thank you, human. My ears can't take it anymore." From that day on, Ricky made sure to practice in a different room or outside, far away from Cooper's sensitive ears. And as for Cooper, he couldn't have been happier - peace and quiet, at last!

Mar 27 - Apr 2

Raising special needs kids is hard.

Like when they have to have something they can't have. Such as another new pet, or a purple dyed haircut in the next 2 hours. When kids in the autistic spectrum are told no, there are consequences. Those consequences, are equivalent to all those disaster movies that have come out lately. Again, raising kids with disabilities is hard. As they get older it gets harder, and if my wife and I drank more (or drank at all), it might be easier. I guess, at least, there (alcohol) is something to dream for.

Mar 20-26

Outside our bedroom is a deck with a concrete surface that we use to let the dogs do their business. I had this umbrella up there but in one of the storms it got to windy and we had to take it down and laid it down on the side of the deck. Well Cooper thought that that was his spot to do all his business. After a while the umbrella was getting pretty ugly and quite smelly so I decided to throw it away. So that night I let him out to go, and he looks at where the umbrella use to be and just sits there and stares at me. He doesn’t do anything. Three minutes he just sits there. Finally I let him in and an hour later I take him out again.  He just sits there again. This went on for 3 days. I am assuming he learned to use the toilet in between.

Mar 13 - 19

Ok, so on the eve of the Oscars, I have something I would like to announce. Mind you, I have worked for this my whole life, but I am about to enter the Busboy Hall of Fame. That’s right. To do this you need to bus one million tables and I am currently at 999, 915 bussed tables. See, I started bussing in 1969 when my father opened Tofanelli’s, an Italian restaurant, and I have been bussing ever since. Within a few months I will have achieved my goal and then I don’t know. What do you do when you have accomplished everything you hoped to do in your life. Well, who knows, I may try and convince Jennifer to take over FlapJacks. Who knows?