“O” is for “Ootischenia”

•May 2, 2008 • 2 Comments

It’s a community.

It’s a song.

 And it’s the legendary birthplace of the goat space program.

Picture, if you will, more than one million goats gathering in a bucolic mountain glade in Western Canada. Picture them gamely struggling to form an enormous living pyramid. Hundreds of layers of grunting, exhausted creatures piling atop one another in an unprecedented experiment in animate architecture.

Picture them, trembling but tenacious, straining to support thousands of tons on their spindly legs, but strengthened by a single, all-powerful vision: to lift up a quivering snout and, at long last, to touch the stars.

Now picture this same audacious undertaking, but with just seven goats. Seven brave pioneers striving to redefine the possible for an entire species. Seven ill-fated heroes with spirit and vision far greater than their mortal flesh. These, then, were the Kootenay Kickers.

I won’t go into the sad aftermath. Others have detailed the numerous setbacks the program suffered following this inspirational, though ultimately fruitless, first foray into the unknown. To me, this litany of failure isn’t what matters.

We may have yet to land a goat on the moon, or to view the Earth from atmospheric orbit, or even to achieve an altitude above several meters (without human assistance, at least).

But the dream lives on.

Thank you, KK7. Your sacrifices were not in vain.


“G” is for “Gumption”

•April 30, 2008 • 4 Comments

I’ve started this post a few times, but my recently discovered (going on 17 seconds ago) first rule of blogging is, “If you’re bored writing it, you can’t expect anyone to read it.”

Obviously, all rules have their exceptions, but I seriously doubt I’m underestimating the brilliance of my own writing or the patience of my friends (my only readers at this point, if they’ve hung on this long).

So, I’m scrapping all the slop and aiming to serve up a steaming helping of gourmet prose. Or at least a light appetizer that won’t give anyone too much gastric distress.

More recently discovered rules of blogging:

2. Don’t constantly write about blogs, blogging, the blogoverse, blogaroni, blogged arteries, etc. Navel gazing is best left to myopic contortionists.

3. Keep the content fresh. Don’t wait several days between posts, and then try to pawn off some random thoughts as meaningful commentary.

4. Embrace the blogging community.  Counting on a handful of caring friends to serve as your only audience isn’t good for your blog. Or your friendships.

5. Write about something topical or personal. Don’t hide behind a pseudonym or assumed personality, dish out your rambling diatribes, and expect the world to care.

Clearly, at this point, I’ve broken at least 4 out of the 5. Depending on how outraged or disappointed anyone feels having reached this point, we could maybe throw #1 onto the flaming trash heap as well.

In all seriousness, I’ve been deeply impressed by the blogs I’ve read and genuinely touched by the immediate support and encouragement of those who’ve dropped by Goat Bomb so far. Thanks to Jill, Linda, Meg, Tracy, and Wendy (alphabetical order, of course), I’m likely to stick with this crazed experiment far longer than my feeble attention span would normally allow.

If anyone else accidentally wanders into this forsaken dead-end alley of the Internet, you can direct your notes of blame and outrage to the ladies via their blog links. Except Linda, who’s still too busy and wise to succumb to this enticing sinkhole of a pastime.

Or are you…? Come on, Linda. All the cool kids are doing it. You want to be cool, don’t you?

The first ever

•April 25, 2008 • 1 Comment

What’s up, kids? Welcome to my blog. Tasty as grass and fresh as a mountain breeze ruffling your fur.

“Going green,” or “Biofuel is for bovines”

•April 25, 2008 • 4 Comments

I just want to get this out of the way early so we can all move on.

Yes, I am part man, part goat. I straddle the species barrier, drinking with pleasure from both trough and travel mug. I share many of the same dreams we all harbor in our secret hearts, though mine are often hay-scented and halcyon.

In short, I am a person, much like you (albeit not physically), and I hope you will browse this site with an open mind.

In today’s era of interpersonal tolerance and environmental awareness, it doesn’t seem outrageous to expect a little appreciation for a true hybrid like myself. Alas, no. I’ve known my share of cruelty and prejudice.

But that’s not why I started this blog. I’m not interested in anonymous approval or amateur therapy. To be honest, I simply caved to herd pressure, finally ambling up a path trodden by so many before me.

I can’t say where this path will lead, but for now, I’m willing to point my snout toward the behinds of people I respect, and to trust that they won’t lead me over a precipice.