Lansdowne Press

The Real Presidential Debate

What's a Curmudgeon? When the curmudgeon is in a good mood it will give you Webster's definition: "A crusty, ill-tempered and (usually) old man."

However, "usually" does not apply in this case, as our resident curmudgeon is a woman who is neither old nor crusty. During the course of her musings on the absurdity of modern suburban life, she writes to a childhood friend (Dearest Mary) now safely living above the treeline in the Arctic Circle -- or effectively -- under a rock.

If you have a secret hankering for humor on the sardonic side - this is for you. The current "Dearest Mary" column follows below: past columns are archived on this page by date and subject. Dearest Mary is published twice a month. Feel free to pass this page on to like-minded friends and family.

Bomb-Sniffing Dogs

Dearest Mary:

If anyone wants to buy me a present I'd like a bomb-sniffing dog. This occurred to me just today as the postman delivered a really suspicious package covered in foreign stamps that I reluctantly accepted. Should I call the bomb squad? Throw it in the bathtub? Listen carefully for ticking sounds? No! Just call the dog! So I did, but my dog is only trained to sniff out food that is in a pre-garbage state, and evidently the suspicious package did not fall into that category. (Well, even I could have figured that out). That's when it hit me! In the ever-vigilant state in which we find ourselves -- with color-coded national alerts, fear of flying, and mystery chemicals -- what better protection than a bomb-sniffing dog?

I could get quite a business going here, although I'm not sure how to start. First I would have to offer classes in bomb-sniffing, in which I have no expertise at all, and second I would have to offer these classes to canines whose owners could best be described as flat-out nutcases. Here's how the interview process might go:

Q. And why do you want to sign Puffball up for Intro to Ammonium Nitrate?
A. Because she just loves uniforms and wants to work for world peace.
Q. We're only taking the best and the brightest. Why do you think she's qualified?
A. She was in the airport once and saw the cheese-sniffing dogs and ever since she's been begging for a real job.

Good point about the uniforms because that could be really cute. We could design uniforms (i.e. little doggie sweaters such as those worn by every dog in Manhattan) with different logos tailored for different bomb-sniffing techniques.
1. "Hello! I'm a bomb-sniffing dog." That could be the disarming and friendly approach - good for a poodle that never has a bad hair day. Or:
2. "STAND BACK! I sniff out lethal weapons." We might try this on a large black Doberman named Storm. This is the direct, no-nonsense approach. Or:
3. "Don't look now…" Ah ha! Now, we're getting into subterfuge with the confusing approach used by the seeing-eye golden retriever who appears to be sight-challenged himself. You think he is ignoring you and your many, many packages until one shows up that is truly suspicious and then…watch out. His uniform might also read, "Needs help crossing the street…"

Here's how a training session might work. First we invade an Al Queda cell. (How? Well if I knew that I'd be arrested.) OK, so we get the dogs to invade an Al Queda cell. (How? Well, if I told you that I wouldn't have a business plan, would I?) Somehow we convince the number # 1 bomb guy in the successfully invaded cell that he will make a much greater mark on the world by dog-training rather than blowing things up, and besides -- dogs are more fun than bombs. For example: dogs are more loyal, more predictable, and easier to take for a walk. Although bombs don't ruin your shoes. (Unless….)

Anyhow, so now we have the bomb guy and the dogs and the uniforms. We've managed to keep the nutcase owners out of the picture so we go ahead and buy the ammonium nitrate - a little goes a long way. Now we disguise the scent with something really disgusting like liverwurst and hide little bombs all over the place and the dogs LOVE their training sessions. However we don't want them to eat the bombs (I can just imagine what the SPCA would say about that.) We want them to find the bombs and then sit perfectly still until the handler can figure out what to do next. But here I must put my foot down because I'm doing enough on the front end of this; let somebody else deal with the handlers.

In these perilous times we need more creative thinking along these lines. It's a win-win situation: We'll put unemployed dogs to work, find more bombs, rid the world of liverwurst, improve our security and persuade bad guys to come over to our side.
And I could make a fortune.

Love,