Category: General

Teen admits kicking puppy to death

A Kaitaia teenager who kicked a six-week-old puppy so hard it died of its injuries could face up to three years in jail.

Halen Joseph Heemi, 17, a road worker, has pleaded guilty in the Manukau District Court to ill-treating a doberman-type puppy.

The court heard that Heemi, who had owned the puppy for less than half an hour, threw it 10m into the air and when it landed on the ground he booted it like a football, killing it.

– New Zealand Herald. 02/09/05.

Some people will never amount to anything, but I get the feeling, and I think I’m right, but I reckon Halen has a shining future as one of the biggest scumbags in the far north, and that’s a hell of an achievment.

I hope they throw the fucking book at him.

After listening to Harvey Jackson on on the radio, relating his experience, and the loss of his wife, in the floods to a crying reporter, I absolutely take back what I said yesterday.

While I’m delighted that little baby Katrina isn’t gonna be called Ka’Niyah (well, so I hope) it’s not worth anyone experiencing the heartbreaking loss that Harvey has.

My thoughts are with everybody who has a lost a loved one in the floods.

Today on USAToday.com:

"If you had told me that I was going to have my baby while I was evacuating from a hurricane on the side of a road in a city I had never been to before, I would have told you that you were crazy," Doucett said late Sunday at Hattiesburg’s Forrest General Hospital.

"I have waited for this day for so long. I just never imagined it would be a day like this."

Doucett had planned to call the baby Ka’Niyah. "But now I am not so sure," she smiled. "I may have to go with Katrina."

If it takes category 5 hurricanes, killing dozens of people, and destroying vast numbers of homes and property to stop people from giving their children completely fucked names, I say "bring ’em on."

When your mother is away in Laos for who knows how long, it’s really mean for spammers to start sending a bunch of mail with her first name in the from.

Oh, we had a quick rematch on the Pictionary, we’re now all tied up in our little pro-league. That’s right, we went from the first round, where we won two of two games, to our return to the field of pencillish battle, where we LOST both games.

Terrible, terrible performance. Misleadingly terrible, I think we were scuppered by our superior play on All Play contests, where we’d beat their asses to the punch, but they, using their naughty skinny skeevy little sneak styles would listen for our awesome guesses, and put them together to win.

This is tantamount to cheating.

Except when we do the same thing, then it’s simply very clever tactics indeed.

In other news, this weeks Stargate Atlantis (season 2 episode 5, for those keeping count) was weird, strange and weird. Cannons can NOT shoot down space ships. You just can’t do it. Anti-aircraft guns, since World War II, have been radar guided, they work in arrays, and they fire huge numbers of rounds per minute, so stick your stupid cannon up your arse next time, ok?

I still like the hardness of Reed, shot through the leg with an arrow? Snap it off and pull it out, what the hell do you care about piffling arrows?

The look of the administrator at the end, though, that was good. I think that actor was too good to waste on a one time bit part.

They need to do some serious work on the makeup of the Wraith, they look like a guy in heavy heavy make-up.

Oh, and that stupid electronic voice modification they do? The same stupid trick they did with the G’ould? They need to not do that either.

On the food front, I’ve been eating too much Chinese food. Last night, while walking George, I went past a place (on Sandringham Rd, across from whatever that little primary school is) with a nice lady who tricked me into ordering a ‘special’ chowmein (but hold the prawns) with crispy noodles, a banana fritter, and half a dozen (surprisingly good) wontons. That was to follow on from the previous nights beef & blackbean sauce, steamed rice, and, errrr, 20 fried dumplings, from the place on Dominion Rd next to Sierra Cafe (not the empty one, the one that’s always full, and has a little $8 sign on the window).

So, if you follow the news much at all, you’ll know by now that a group of scientists in Korea have finally managed to successfully clone a dog, and Afghan hound, from cells from its ear introduced into and egg and implanted into a Labrador. The clone is called Snuppy, and he seems to be a normal healthy 16 week old pup.

Does this squick you out? Not me. I like it. I don’t like the failure rate, not one little bit. That’s a lot of dead dogs they’ve created in order to finally succeed.

But I’m really happy about the whole thing, ‘cos one day, hopefully in ten years or more — George isn’t little enough to have a super long doggie life span, I’ve met dogs of 18 or 20 years, but they’re always tiny little things — my lovely little animal companion is going to die. It’s going to fuck me up. He’s my lovely little friend, you see.

But it’d help for me to be able to go along to my local vet and put in an order for 2x George, Jr, for delivery in 6 months. Please add a small modification to make him less prone to the cancer or heart disease or whatever it was that killed him.

Ten years can be a long time in science. Who says I won’t be able to do this?

Of course, ten years can also be a short time, just look at how many of us have mandroids that do our dishes and fold our laundry, and who reading this flew their little Jetsons Bubble car to work today? No? No.

I’m under no illusions that a clone of George would be the same as George, for one thing, he has seperation anxiety – he was weaned really early, and his nuts snipped off at age about 4 weeks. But it sure would be nice to have the little guy around again, and again, and again. And I think it’d be super awesome to have him twice at once, that way he could play and play and play.

"Ethicists" are already trying to stick their stinking unwanted beaks in, of course, saying they don’t know if it’s moral for dog owners to clone their beloved pooches, but you know what Mrs Ethicist? The choice I’m giving you is not "clone the dog or not clone the dog?" The choice is instead "clone the dog or I’ll hurt you, very very badly."

I don’t know how much I’d pay for this, maybe five thousand dollars. That probably won’t be enough in 10 years, but it probably will be enough in 20 years.

Oh, and plus we’ll all be walking lots in 20 years, so it’ll be a nice world for dogs.

(We’ll be walking due to there being no oil to run our Canyoneros and Ford Explorers, and stuff.)