Yesterday's Lileks Bleat (which went up late, so I didn't see it until today) is fully screedy goodness, against overprivileged and cynical haters of civilization. Especially that pinnacle of evil--western civilization:

Over lunch I read the local free newspaper; the editorial page had two opinion pieces. One disparaged dog sweaters. I have no love for dog sweaters either, but they don’t immediately make me think about the disparities between the First and Third Worlds, and they don’t bring to mind Club of Rome predictions, either. But I lack the author’s piercing ability to connect the dots:

They say you can judge a society by how they treat their dead. But they never saw dogs wearing sweaters. Running around Lake Calhoun on a brisk winter evening, I passed a well-to-do dog, so it would seem; his sweater was of much finer material than mine. But that was not all. This dog wore little coverings on each of his four paws.

Although I had remembered my shoes, I had foolishly left my gloves at home, and cast a somewhat spiteful and jealous glance in his direction. He merely looked away, turning his wet nose up toward his human walking companion as if to say, “can I get a little hat?”

I’ve never heard of the idea of judging a society on how they treat the dead. It makes for interesting sociological studies, but I think the question of how they treat the living is more germane, particularly if they show special skill in turning the living into the dead. I also imagine that those in the society-judging racket confine their judgments to societies which spend too much money on coffins and flowers, especially if a television network recently did a hidden-camera expose of the sales tactics used to push upgraded copper trim on the burial vault. Those are the cultures that need some good ol’ judgin’.

I should also note that I have lived in the vicinity of Lake Calhoun for many years, and the number of dogs I’ve seen with sweaters numbers between six and ten; in all the years I’ve lived in this neighborhood, and passed the locals walking their dogs on bitter nights, the number of dogs with boots and sweaters equals exactly zero. I tried to put books on my dog once when the temps were ninety below, but that was in 1996, and I don't believe I've tried since.

I miss screedblog. As usual, one should read the whole thing, as Lileks is just getting warmed up.

The even funnier part is that last night, after having read that Bleat, I saw a picture that a friend of mine took in Venice of a dog in a fully jeweled coat WITH A HAT ON.

Just a few pictures removed from the protests about the start war in Iraq, incidentally.

Of course, in Europe, I suppose they're entitled to that, what with the moral superiority granted unto them through the age of their cities and civilizations and all.

And the writer of the article Lileks quoted hasn't been around much in Mexico. If you get down by Chapultepec, you will see many precious little doggies in sweaters. And bathing suits. And diamond necklaces, with earrings to match. The rich are indeed different from you and me: they have more money.

Regards,
Ric

Too bad most dogs aren't more like my son's canine. She violently resisted the one attempt to put an article of clothing on her; she even rolls her eyes in disgust when spoken to in a cutesy-boo manner.

Mildly ridiculous and a bit wasteful, but not nearly so much of either as 4x4s with metallic (spotless) paint, deep-pile carpet and chromed wheels.