i bet it was a nice one

caught up in the whirlwind of late-night pain and lowered expectations that is exam season i have only this small tidbit to offer:

as children are wont to do, i would often become fascinated with some found object while playing in the park or walking around with my dad. a discarded ball or something. but of course children cannot be allowed to simply touch or keep everything they find lying around since they have no sense of cleanliness. my father's discouragement, however, was quite unique, and upon later reflection, probably improperly phrased. it was, on more than one occasion, as follows:

"you don't know what dog pooped on that."

not "you don't know if a dog pooped on that" or the classic "you don't know where that's been." (what it lacks in imagination it makes up for in broadness). no, there was always the rhetorical implication that the issue of whether dog poop was somehow involved had been settled already and we were moving straight ahead to the identity of the canine. what is perhaps more intersting is that this was not merely a single instance of confused thought-expression. my father uttered this phrase many times, even in other situations. maybe he said it by mistake once and thought it was clever enough to keep using, i don't know. i also don't know why i never thought to tell him that i was, in fact, aware of the dog involved and had his approval to keep my prized object.