Hello to all you crazy, upright walking, hairless homosapians! Welcome to my site, Dozer’s Blog (it was going to be “Tales From The Dog House”, but that’s been played out on all the other canine blog sites). Usually I like to just lay in the dirt and chew on whatever is close to my face, but lately the humans have decided to entertain me by building some huge flying machine which consists of a giant rolling banjo cart and a wing shaped like a mountain. I usually don't pay attention to their jibber-jabber, but I read over some blueprints and documents while they were out feeding themselves lunch. (Honestly people, who feeds themselves anymore? It’s been years since I paid for a meal.) Apparently it has something to do with a “Red Bull Flugtag” which means flying day in German. The event is happening in Nashville, TN on June 23rd. And how, you ask, do I know what Flugtag means. Three words, one name…Aleo Von Wallgrabben, my grandfather who was full blooded German and one mean son of a bitch.(literally)

Greasy Brothers Inc. apparently went to Nashville, TN this past weekend to dump that hunk of junk they call the “Rocky Top Rocket” into the Cumberland River. Big freakin’ deal! If you ask me, I’m happy to see it go. It was drawing way too much attention away from me and my stellar good looks. It used to be “Oh! There’s Dozer, isn’t he such a cute little doggy?” but instead all anyone wanted to talk about was the giant banjo setting in the shop. Good riddance.

From what I hear, they somehow took that hunk of junk, and set a new Red Bull Flugtag – North American Distance record of 155 ft, and taking home the Grand Prize. How these jokers could build anything that could fly is beyond me. The only thing I figured they’d win is a free bath in the Cumberland River.

All of this is purely speculation, because yours truly, Vincent Von Dozer, was not invited to the event. The nitwit they call Brody says that no pets were allowed at the event. And where, you might ask, was this event held? Riverfront Park…that’s right I said “Park”! Have the humans in Nashville completely lost their minds or do they not know that parks were invented by and for dogs? They get the whole freakin’ city and all we ask for is one little square of grass to take a leak on.

Because the whole Greasy Brothers Inc. team is too busy admiring themselves to realize the world is still spinning, I’ll go ahead and thank all the friends and family that helped out with the event and drove to Nashville to support the team. I know that they couldn’t have done it without you…or me for that matter. So who’s going to thank me for all the help, you ask? Probably no one…I guess I can just be content in the knowledge that when I poop, you have to pick it up.

As for next time…move over Snoopy…I’m flying the dog house.

New way to annoy the humans: Every time they throw something, just go pick it up and take it back to them. 99% of the time they will just throw it again! The group showed back up early this weekend to start building and it seems that they have really made some steps forward to what is becoming a total death trap. Even so, they build on. It looks like they have decided to make the banjo out of real wood which I think is a little overkill but the humans have this sponsor….some guy named Gibson who they are trying to impress. The Blake has been working on the wing cables and support for the wing and the Brandon has been sewing on the custom wing sail during the week. It’s getting down to the wire here.

So I get a call Thursday from my friend Ms. Sparkles who lives in Texas. Apparently she’s filed a class action lawsuit over not getting a job with Border Security. She claims its because she’s a miniature pincher and not a regular size dog. I told her “Listen, Sparkles. My cousin Fat Frank the Bulldog has boobs but that doesn’t mean he can work at Hooters.” I don’t know why she would want to work the border anyway. We’ve got a lot of friends that aren’t registered dogs and I wouldn’t want to rub it in their face.

Back on the topic of the Humans, since I guess that’s what this whole website is about. I have to give them some credit, it looks like the frame of their cart / Banjo is taking shape. There have been a few female humans in and out of the shop from time to time. The Brad is working on a PVC frame for the banjo rim, the Brody is carving something out of a big chunk of Styrofoam and the Brandon is putting together the frame for the cart. I napped through most of it. The only excitement came from the Red Bull Power Team which showed up on Saturday to visit me. I obliged by stepping out of my house to pose for some photos.

Been a long week folks, let me tell ya. Lots of guard dog work proves for long nights…don’t tell anyone but I usually just kind of space out for a couple of hours and look like I’m working, then spend the rest of the night rummaging through the cars for snack cakes. Oh, so the humans show up again this weekend determined to build this goliath of a banjo. The team brought in parts for the wing including some wire and aluminum tubing. The one they call the Brandon brought a bunch of fiberglass ladder pieces to build the launch cart / banjo with. They debated for hours on strength and weight. I could have told them from the beginning that you’re going to have about .64 lbs per liner ft. on 4in railing, give or take one, one-thousandths for resin saturation. Do they say, “Hey Dozer what do you think man?” No, they just pat me on the head. I believe most of them are jealous that I don’t have to wear pants.

Mostly the male humans just sat around and talked about how awesome they were and how cool their flying machine was going to be. It looks to me that computational aerodynamics of the whole design are just ridicules and have zero chance of any mentionable success. Do I say anything?....no way....i just jump around and wag my stump of a tail that the humans so politely decided to clip when I was born. Watching these guys eat it is going to be sweet, sweet revenge. Oh yeah, and two of them, the ones they call Brad and Brody, decided to build a work bench.