Den här månaden får mina älskade svenska vänner gratis två salta hundar bildekaler om de bara frågar. Maila mig på fatmax@twosaltydogs.net med din postadress så lovar jag att jag inte kommer att missbruka ditt förtroende och dyker upp hemma hos dig och ber om att få sova på din soffa.
Läs gärna också Marz nya berättelse: "Allvarlig Rugbyhund." Det skulle betyda mycket för honom.
Jag ser fram emot att utforska gränserna för Sveriges skeva humor med dig.
Down East Magazine has nominated us as a contender for The Best Pet Supply Store in Maine. The last time this happened was in 2021 and we won (I am NOT lying to you. See the title photo above for proof).
VOTE FOR US OR I WILL SUBMIT EVERYONE'S EMAIL HERE INTO THE FBI'S "PROBED BY ALIENS" FILE.
Sure, I put the seed in Hayseed. But the fact is, I will unleash my army of giant, spiteful Mollusks to attack your city if you don't vote for us.
Think you can survive a giant Scallop attack? What about thousands and thousands of Razor Clams running rampant through the streets of your peaceful, rampant burg? Talk tough now, and that will make my maniacal laughter ring out all the louder from my fortified underground bunker in Waldoboro.
Still talking tough?
Until each and every one of you and all your incel friends and relatives cast votes for Two Salty Dogs, I will refuse to have Auggie's anal glands expressed. Laugh if you want, but it's pretty painful to the old boy and he probably won't come out to say "Hi" to you in the shop.
The choice is yours. Decide wisely.
CLICK HERE: https://www.downeast.com/bestofmaine
Then go to: Shopping & Style > Best Maine Pet Store and vote. OR VICIOUS MOLLUSKS WILL CLAIM YOUR LIFE.
P.S. Down East Magazine swore to me that the link would be up 12:01AM on June 1.
AN ODE TO WASTING 40 YEARS OF MY LIFE ON FRIVOLITY:
DEAR DOG!!
LOOK AT MY VERTICAL SHRINKING!!!
OBSERVE MY HORIZONTAL EXPANSION, MY DOG!! A MYSTERIOUS, EXPANDING UNIVERSE FUELED WITH TACOS AND DARK ENERGY!!
MY HAIR!!!! WHAT HAPPENED TO MY HAIR?! MY PRECIOUS BOWL- CUT HAIR!?!?!?!
MY GLASSES ARE THE SAME, TO MY SHAME.
BUT YA GOTTA LOVE MY SIDEBURNS.
WHERE HATH THOSE 40 WHISKEY-SOAKED YEARS GONE, MY DOG?! I WOULD LIKE A REFUND AND A HUG.
OR JUST ANOTHER WHISKEY.
-- Assault & Peppa (Formerly Doggystyle Don)
WE LOVE HATE MAIL!
YOU CAN'T SPELL SPECTRUM WITHOUT RECTUMS
CLICK ON THE CORRECT LINK OF SPECTRUM CEO MICHAEL "MIKE" BLAIR AND GET A $20 GIFT CERTIFICATE!!!!!
I've been fighting a running battle with Spectrum Internet for years and there's no sign that either side is relenting. It's like the Neo-Soviet/Ukrainian War, but with more explosions and lying.
From the second we chose Consolidated Communications for the shop in 2012, Spectrum tried to overwhelm us with with mail, calls, and reps that "just happened to be in the area and love Two Salty Dogs!"
Unfortunately, we had Spectrum at our house (because we have no choice), so we know how painfully byzantine and expensive they are.
And we also get great service from Consolidated. For example, during Early Bird 2016, when all the surrounding businesses with Spectrum lost internet, we were fine. In fact, panicked word spread through town that we were one of the only stores that were still accepting credit cards when all the ATM's ran out. We were packed even more than usual. The reason Spectrum service went out? Scheduled maintenance. They didn't know Early Bird was one of the biggest commercial days in Boothbay Harbor and apparently they didn't care. <<FICTION>>
And we almost never have outages with Consolidated. The outages we do have are short or just a matter of resetting the modem and router.
Unless the CEO of Spectrum Michael "Mike" Blair shoved a giant man-eating snake in my bed at multiple random times every single night, there really is no way I'd switch to Spectrum. Even then, I'd almost rather be constricted to death and consumed whole.
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MAIL ATTEMPTS
I'm making a literal back-of-the-envelope calculation here: Spectrum has sent us almost 1/8th-ton of junk mail since we've been open. We get at least 6 small envelopes a week that say "OPEN IMMEDIATELY" or "FOR ADDRESSEE ONLY" in big red letters that are addressed ONLY to Don or Liana Kingsbury. Some are addressed to our late dog Maximus Gary. All have "Or Current Resident" as the secondary recipient.
Some of the smaller envelopes are heavy and stiff and contain a plastic card that entitles us to "premium service" and savings galore. Then there are the fake checks for $10,000 that are only valid on Neptune, and those large envelopes that are made to look like you won Publisher's Clearing House or been indicted by a grand jury (I know I'm dating myself with PCH and I don't care).
If you figure Spectrum has been sending us 6-ounces (0.375lbs) of junk mail a week, that works out to be:
(0.375 lbs/week) X (52 weeks/year) X 12 years = 234lb of junk mail.
För våra svenska vänner:
(0.17kg/vecka) X (52 vecka/år) X 12 år = 106kg skräppost.
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CALLING ATTEMPTS
If I have the time, I like to get off telemarketer's lists organically. Sure, it takes more time than politely saying, "Please take me off your list," and theoretically they would have to. But where's the fun in that? It's much more fun to pretend you got your hand caught in a baler or your toddler just stabbed your kidney with an ice pick to let the Pokemons out, could you call later?
Here's an example that's exactly the opposite of what I just told you above:
Ring Ring!
Woman - "HI!!!!!!!! I'M FROM SPECTRUM BUSINESS AND WE HAVE A HUGE SPECIAL GOING ON!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Me - "......"
Woman - "HOW LONG HAVE YOU HAD YOUR BUSINESS, SIR?!?!?!?!?!"
Me - "I forget."
Woman - "HAHA SIR! I UNDERSTAND BEING BUSY! WHAT KIND OF BUSINESS DO YOU HAVE?!?!?!"
Me - "I forget."
Woman - "ARE YOU MESSING WITH ME?!?!?!?!"
Me - "I think you've got it backwards."
Woman - <<Click>>
Alas, this technique only works with telemarketers that obey the "Do Not Call" law.
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REPRESENTATIVE VISITS
Every once and a while, some young, finely-dressed, over-confident-looking Spectrum Representative ushers themselves into my shop. If I'm not busy, they stride confidently over and offer me their hand with a gleaming smile. If I am busy, they bonk around the shop and stare at the ceiling. Some will even get a small item to purchase, which pretty much guarantees them a place at the checkout line.
I offer my hand after vigorously digging it in my crotch and coughing into it like I have a full-blown case of Herpes and Stage IV Tuberculosis.
Most are grossed out and get the message, but some of the smiling faces are undeterred. They are the REAL professionals and will do anything to close the deal. I notice they all use my hand sanitizer liberally.
We have a pleasant conversation about the weather and what a nice shop I have. Then the bomb is dropped: They're from Spectrum and they are very, very concerned about the viability of my business without Spectrum's partnership. Extremely concerned. In fact, Spectrum's CEO Michael "Mike" Blair spent so many sleepless nights thinking about Two Salty Dogs' future, he personally sent <<Rep's Name Here>> down from Corporate Spectrum to talk me off the ledge.
The conversations have all the hallmarks of a Mob shakedown. It would be a shame if my business didn't grow. They had seen it before. A nice business owner with tuberculosis like me refusing Spectrum's business package one day, and the next, WHAM!!! My telecommunications infrastructure crumbles like a sand castle. Then comes the tsunami of negative reviews on Google, Facebook, Yelp, Tripadvisor, The Weekly Shopper and United Airlines In-Flight Magazine "Hemispheres." The next thing you know, I've been disowned by my family, and all my dogs run away from me even if I have their dinner. That would be a shame, a REAL avoidable shame.
I loathe them, but you've got to respect the Spectrum Reps. 1) They're well dressed and stand out on the Maine Coast like a keg of beer and BBQ ribs at Ramadan 2) They are thoroughly despised by all business owners for their tenacity, 3) No jury in this land would ever convict anyone of assaulting a Spectrum Sales Rep. <<SARCASM>>.
The Rep brazenly lays a thick binder on my counter and asks to see my current Consolidated bill. I politely say that my wife would never allow me into the filing cabinet again unless there was another squirrel living in there.
Did he want some of my frozen burrito? The microwave just beeped. It was done. Was I under arrest? It was nice and warm, but not crispy like if I put it in a toaster oven. Did Spectrum have a package that included toaster ovens? Microwaving burritos made the burritos warm, but they were congealed, and in need of a toaster oven to make the outside layers crispy.
The good Reps don't miss a beat. They decline the congealed burrito and claim to know nothing about Toaster Ovens. They speak to me whilst looking directly in my eyes. They monotonously and rhythmically talk about The Unrivaled Supremacy of Spectrum, and how their beloved Leader and CEO Michael "Mike" Blair hopes to have microchips planted in 3/4's of his customer's skulls by the end of 2023 so they won't miss one second of the USFL season.
Of course this pitch is borrowed directly from Snake Charming 101. And that's where you've got to watch yourself. Some people become so enchanted by Spectrum Snake Charming 101 that they'll sign up for the most expensive Spectrum package available and are on the hook for $2,000 for several Ajit Pai FCC Memorial Dinnerware Sets.
Not me though. I handle this by continuing dig in my crotch and cough spastically in anticipation of our parting handshake. If the Snake Charmer is particularly aggressive, I'll dig in my ass with one hand and eat my burrito with the other such that spittle flies everywhere and the dogs start fighting over the refried beans that land on my boots.
Once the Spectrum Rep leaves, everyone lives happily every after, especially Michael "Mike" Blair, CEO of Spectrum Internet on his $25 million yacht.
ALL STORIES WERE MADE-UP, WRITTEN DOWN, AND ARE THE SOLE PROVINCE OF A FICTIONAL CHARACTER THAT CANNOT BE SUBPOENAED, "MIKE."
~ Don (Not a Dog)
MADRE DE DIOS!!!!
Many of you have pointed out that The Coal Shack doesn't make any sense. Most of my competitors' newsletters are straight to the point: We have these new products, these are the products we have on sale, our CEO plea-bargained to the human trafficking charge, and the radioactive cadmium on the "Lil' Pups Play" line of toys was a regrettable oversight that will never happen again... etc.... etc...
YOU HAVE MY WORD: This month I'm not going to go on and on and on about stupid stuff just trying to make you laugh. I'm going to be a professional and get right to the sales pitch and stick to it like the Petco Newsletter so you dullards finally buy something from my website and I become rich beyond my wildest dreams so I finally have enough money to clone 50 Coal pups (Pictured Right) and die a very satisfied man.
I can't WAIT for the new Coal Shack, can you?!?!?!
MY STUPID NOVELLA
In the olden times of our great nation, folks in Maine were not availed regular refuse pick up.
In some backward Swampwaters like Florida, that meant throwing your garbage into the middle of your closest Interstate so the corrupt, baby-eating Federal Government and its boot-licking lackeys were forced to pick it up. If the Feds couldn't get to it, industrious, Meth-addicted Floridians would dig through it and add select bits to their tarp-home in "Unincorporated Gatortown." -- CONTINUED IN NEXT PRODUCT ON SALE.
Even if you think my book is crappy, buy one to laugh at with your sarcastic friends and leave cruel, biting reviews so I never try to elevate myself above my station again, Anne B.
USE COUPON CODE: GATORTOWN
NOW ONLY $8.75
<< Click HERE >>
BAKE YOUR OWN TREATS
TAKE AN ADDITIONAL 5% OFF ALL OUR ON-SALE JUNK
The Maine State Dump System worked spectacularly well until the Federal Government, angry with all the building materials Unincorporated Gatortown and Florida were getting for free from numerous hurricanes, declared every popcorn-fart town in this great nation had to have a "Recycling Center." The government swore the centers were only for recycling garbage and not to make everyone bow before its all-encompassing, non-negotiable, over-arching, and crushing hegemony regarding every patriotic American's garbage.
And of course, the first thing the Feds did was rename "The Dump" into something more terrifying: "The Boothbay Region Refuse Disposal District."
And it IS terrifying being there. It's like going back in time to the Wild West. There are gangs of Old Men in sedans randomly patrolling the area and barking at people for improper Dump Technique. I'm sure most of them are armed with Colt 45s.
The Old Women have their Subarus chock full of things they think are recyclable, but are not-- like foam plastics, plastic films, and dead crocus seedlings. They also pick magazines out of the recycle bins and circle around and around the dump in a quandary regarding where to lay 4 barely-soiled napkins to rest: Recycle or Garbage?
-- CONTINUED IN NEXT PRODUCT ON SALE
Seriously, buy some of the crap on our "On Sale" page. We're drowning in this stuff. There are some pretty nice things in there and there's some real stinkers. And please be patient. This stuff will be going quickly and hopefully we sell out. That's the point, amigo / amiga.
TAKE AN ADDITIONAL 5% OFF ON-SALE STUFF
Use Coupon Code: BRONTOSAURUS
<< Click HERE >>
WILDERNESS BISCUITS
If you are new to "Dump Culture," DO NOT show up at the dump when it opens at 8am. ESPECIALLY ON A SATURDAY. You will find a long line of irritated, menacing Old Dump Men crushing the gate ahead of you. The Old Dump Men claim province over the dump and defend it against intruders and heretics. Most of The Old Dump Men are only there to "recycle" 30 gallons of highly toxic marine shellac that was banned in 48 states over a hundred years ago and their wives won't let them dump it into their kitchen sink.
Be worried that Old Dump Men have very definite ideas regarding the correct way everyone should throw out their garbage.
Like some Stalinist decree, The Old Dump Men demand one BACKS INTO the Garbage dumpsters to unload between 1 and 2 household bags of garbage.
Unless I have a half ton of fermenting garbage emitting enough hydrogen sulfide to kill a Brontosaurus, I drive my truck straight in, remove the garbage from the bed, AND WALK IT 8ft OVER to the dumpsters. The Old Dump Men call me a heretic; undeserving of The Riches of the Dump. They claim I would be able to throw my garbage out IN RECORD TIME and shorten everyone's visit to the dump significantly if I only BACKED IN to the dumpsters.
I have analyzed The Old Dump Men's "Riches of The Dump Perplexity" from many different aspects and over many years. I admit that backing in makes it easier and quicker to toss the garbage into the dumpsters.
But it's backing into the dumpsters that takes forever. Not only do you have to dodge all the cars that are pulling straight out from the dumpsters with only your rear view mirror, you'll contort your neck painfully checking for over-zealous Old Dump Men slamming into you broadside because they are also driving through their rear-view mirrors and can't see anything.
Try backing up with all that going on into a space directly between two parked cars with all kinds of Old Dump Men lauding themselves on the 15-minute precision back-up job they just performed to throw out a half-bag of garbage. And they didn't do it with those new-fangled back up cameras either. And if the battery in their car dies, it's extremely easy to get a jump compared to the fools who drive straight in.
I think the Old Dump Men back into the dumpster spots because they enjoy fantasies of tossing their garbage into the dumpster lackadaisically and laying rubber whilst speeding away like they were still at the helm of their beloved '66 Oldsmobile 442's.
Either that or they're twitchy and anxious to peel their way out to the Cardboard Recycling Center, where the hot dump action really is.
-- THE END
We are discontinuing these treats and the Blue Buffalo line in general because you will be able to get the brand in just about any supermarket for a much cheaper price since the company was bought out by supermarket distributor General Mills for about $9 billion, the entire countries of Zanzibar, Dar es Salaam, Djibouti, The Ivory Coast, Nepal, Vanuatu, Gary Indiana, and a controlling share of Diego Garcia. The rest of Diego Garcia and Indiana belongs to Disney and Hormel Canned Chili (Chunky, with Beans) Corporation.
For now.
Whilst supplies last, my lovelies.
Wake me up at 3:30. I want to watch "Days of Our Lives." It's the big Priest Wedding episode.
Sniffin’ Around
The Boothbay Region
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WE WILL GIVE YOU $2 FOR EVERY REVIEW OF TWO SALTY DOGS.
Are you in need of liquid cash now that all the cryptocurrencies you invested in aren't worth the emails they were written on?
Do you need to put another layer of tar-paper over little Joshie's crib to prevent the crows from pecking his eyes out?
DO IT FOR JOSHIE
Rejoice, you thronging masses of distracted cattle! Verily I say unto thee, I bring HOPE and cash in the form of a Two Salty Dogs Gift Certificate!
Were you happy with something you ordered from our website? Did you buy something in our shop and have a wonderful experience? Do you just hate the thought of my guts? Have I insulted you and your dim-witted clan into a blood-feud like I apparently did to "Anne B?" She thought she would pile on me along with notorious idiot-boy Blake in a Better Business Bureau review.
Honestly Anne B, you can say we're located in Boothbay Harbor in your review. You don't have to blank that out. It's right in the BBB heading. How else would the rest of humanity know what you were talking about? People might read through all your self-righteous review and think I was a horrible man with a pet shop somewhere in Baffin Island.
And speaking of Baffling Island, you say in your review, "...he consistently complains about the flow of annoying and entitled tourists in his blog..." Just for the record, I make fun of rude and ignorant people whether they're from here or "from away." This newsletter has 10k subscribers, which is about the entire Boothbay Region population. Apparently a lot of the tourists you are so worried about get what you don't: The Joke.
ANYWAY.....
All you need to do is review Two Salty Dogs Pet Outfitters in one of several online venues. We will PAY you $2 per review - good or bad - in the form of an online gift certificate in July 2023. You might become so wealthy you could finally consult that reputable witchdoctor about the stabbing pains in your chest. That's assuming the witchdoctor accepts Two Salty Dogs gift certificates as payment and isn't the cause of the stabbing pains.
Seriously- Review us in one of the following ways and get a neat little gift certificate. And please only review products you've bought. Good, Bad and Ugly reviews are accepted as long as they are cogent, swear-free and don't refer to my freakish head size.
1) Review any of our products: Click Here
2) Google: Click Here
3) Facebook: Click Here
4) Tripadvisor: Click Here
5) Yelp: Click Here
6) BBB: Click Here
To claim your Gift Certificate, please email me your submissions here: fatmax@twosaltydogs.net
P.S. Let me know privately if you'd like to start an absurdist online fight. I will gladly and humorously comply.
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The Harbor Dogs' Stories
(Formerly Max & Aug's Dog Blog)
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I keep telling Liana that if there is a Heaven, it's not for us. It's for Marz.
Unlike Marz, I am too old and prejudiced to get excited about much. I'm not saying I'm prejudiced against people (unless it's Michael "Mike" Blair of Spectrum), nor am I close-minded, but rather I am deep-seated in preferences and rarely go outside my comfort zone unless it's to scream over a full bar at a self-described pirate who is trying to engage me in his retarded skylarkings.
For example, bartenders are always offering me delicious drinks that aren't Bushmills Irish Whiskey on the rocks. Yet I am so old and decrepit I can only imagine the pesticide damage a series of fresh, fruity drinks will do to my struggling liver.
Not Marz. He will try absolutely anything with an energy that's almost unbelievable. I gave him a celery stick - one of the most loathed things by every single one of my dogs. He TRIED to eat it. He chewed it repeatedly, spit it out, and looked up at me as if there was some kind of mistake. And when he figured out that celery was inedible, he batted the stringy remains around the shop floor joyfully for about half an hour.
He loves just about everything. He's happy only to be with you. He's eating his life voraciously and without prejudice. And I love the little beast immensely for it.
So get yourself a cup of hot chocolate or a six-pack of foamy Colt 45 from The Dump and click on "Earnest Rugby Dog" by Marzipan Fin Tin Limb Bin Bus Stop F'tang F'tang Olay Biscuit Barrel Kingsbury.
Yes. That's his full name...
~~ Don (Not a Dog)
Meh. See You Next Month.
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