Today’s entry was supposed to be about Dog the Bounty Hunter because Husband and I were planning to attend an event the other night where he was the featured speaker. Daughter had called us weeks ago to say one of her friends who belongs to the Cornell Alumni Club had tickets to An Evening with Dog at the club in Manhattan where Duane Chapman, aka Dog, would be talking about his new book and all related Dogma. The friend had said to Daughter with sincere mockery that he wondered who in the world would want to spend an evening like that and ever thoughtful Daughter piped up with “I know who!” and called us right away and we said please don’t give those tickets to anyone else.
Bounty hunter shows have multiplied and sprung up on other channels but Dog was the first and by all accounts the real deal. The Chapmans’ place in family-based reality programming is prime time cable TV gold. Beyond the tattoos and mullets and children from different relationships too numerous to mention, Dog and Beth seem like loving partners and parents with a genuine message to impart: You can turn your life around even as we bring you in for arrest. We know you can because we did it, too.
Whereas The Osbournes provided a voyeuristic glimpse into a bizarre family unit yearning to be fractured role models for fame and excess and American Chopper revels in its blue-collar work ethic and messed up but familiar parent/sibling interaction, the Chapmans were almost a breath of fresh air when they hit the screen with their shirtless black leather vests amid breathtaking tropical surroundings. The premise is compelling: Former law-breaking misfits unite, procreate and make their living upholding the law in paradise with spiritual compassion and, when necessary, non-weapon force. It’s hard to look away from Beth in all her bottle-blonde, 3-inch nail, chest you can park a Buick on glory. Every line in Dog’s face tells a story you may not want to hear. If they looked like Archie and Veronica the show would fall flat on its cosmetically perfect face.
The day before the event we got an email from Daughter reminding us that the Cornell Club does not allow jeans. This just kept getting better; we had to dress up for Dog. Some irony is too thick to even comment on. But when the day arrived it rained three inches, a tornado hit parts of Brooklyn and the trains shut down. The city was paralyzed with water and heat and the bridges and tunnels jammed. Husband and I were all dressed up with no Dog to walk. I looked dejectedly at the list of questions I wanted to ask during the Q&A: can you tell us details about the Mexican extradition recently dropped; how has widespread fame and recognition hindered the bounty process; where does Beth find tops that fit? And so many more. The only thing I managed to accomplish was the last item on my list: write blog entry. Woof.
Daughter’s Featured Fotos of street art reflect images for us today of Spiritual Thinking.
never stop the positive plan
exercise your freewill
motivation
free yourself