On July 30, 1956, "In God We Trust" became the official motto of the Untied States of America by act of Congress (Public Law 84-851). I had long been opposed to such a statement appearing on the noisemakers in my pocket, but I recently learned that the primary impetus behind such an act was a direct response to the "godless" Communists, our Cold War enemies. The motto has been challenged in the courtroom, the battleground of the intellectual, and the Supreme Court ruled in Aronow v. United States (1970), "[the motto's] use is of patriotic or ceremonial character and bears no true resemblance to a governmental sponsorship of a religious exercise." There you have it, a ruling by the Supreme Court that God is a figurehead for America. So I'm okay with it now. In God we trust, you pinkos!

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My dogs have had a fight. Now they won't stay in the same room with one another. Victoria seems properly apologetic, but July still growls at her whenever she comes within 5 feet. Most surprising about this is the discovery that July can hold a grudge for longer than 24 hours, though I suspect that she may be milking the situation for a little extra attention. If this is anything like raising children, I'll have no part in that, thank you.

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Welcome to the 4th Annual Superman Month at Wriphe.com! I know that some of you don't care for the comic book stuff, so I'll see you back here in July.

Now that I've gotten rid of those party-poopers, we can get down to brass tacks and begin celebrating the world's greatest hero as he fights for

Ruth,

juggling,

and the African survey.

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New for 2010: Easter poodles! The adorability of a bunny combined with the fun of decorating eggs!

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It was recently brought to my attention that England is considering legislation requiring all potential dog owners to pass a test, microchip their dog, and buy insurance in case their dog attacked someone. In theory, this plan would prevent the implementation of mobile collection and euthanasia vehicles such as have been recently employed in parts of Japan in order to restrain out-of-control wild and dangerous dog populations. After all, who could imagine a scenario where someone would abandon their animal after having paid a substantial sum to acquire it, even if that someone had lost their job in a shrinking economy after having overpaid for a vastly overvalued animal in the first place? Come on, it's not like a dog is a house.

How to solve the problem of wild, dangerous dogs is the sort of problem that would only face a government that had already banned gun ownership. Now that guns don't kill people, dogs kill people. With no threat of weapons to keep them in check, the loose dogs have formed nature's equivalent of motorcycle gangs, resorting to wandering from town to town fighting other gangs tooth-and-claw over territory, eating from trashcans, and raping all the uptight bitches. In America, we'd shoot our beloved Old Yeller if he looked at us cross-eyed, but the Brits are searching for a gentler way.

I for one applaud the idea. Owning a dog is like owning a car, and users must be qualified lest they plow through a crowd of innocent pedestrians. Better yet, using the tried-and-true, infallible "slippery slope" argument, it is clear that this action will inevitably lead to the obvious conclusion: qualifying people for parenthood. For far too long, society has allowed the bumper sticker slogan "anyone can be a father" to dictate public policy. I say that it's about time that government qualified what, exactly, that "special" quality is that makes someone a "daddy."

I suggest we follow the format of the British dog law: all prospective parents should pass a written test and buy "child insurance" in case the child one day gets lose from its restraints and bites someone. Once a child is born, we'll microchip them, mainly to prevent child insurance fraud. After all, if it's good enough for dogs, it's good enough for people.

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Tis the season for poodles.

My aunt gifted me two rescued standard poodles this week. The black bitch is named July and is quite a playful handful. The light apricot bitch is named Victoria and is skittish and reserved. They came as a pair, previously owned by a woman who became unable to care for them following an injury. Despite the fact that they are both adults (2+ years old), they've kept me very, very busy.

Meanwhile, my father bought a new standard poodle puppy descended from a line including show champions. Though at this point the puppy remains unnamed, I'm sure that it can't help but do well considering that it's dam was named for Joanna Cameron's title character in television's The Secrets of Isis.

[UPDATE: For the record, Victoria isn't an apricot. She's just a really, really dirty white. Silly girl.]

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Beginning in July, DC Comics is partnering with USA Today to present Superman comic strips reprinted from the upcoming Wednesday Comics limited-series. There is irony in the fact that DC is using newspapers to promote a comic featuring a character that was originally prepared for but rejected by newspapers. This irony seems to be lost on DC Comics which instead of promoting Superman's triumphant return to newspaper comics pages has been advertising Wednesday Comics as a 16-page "history-making" "newspaper-format" comic available direct to the public for a mere $3.99 per week! Buzzword Alert: "newspaper-format" means a folded, not stapled, comic book. Now compare that exciting offer to a standard modern comic book which has 2 staples, 22 pages, monthly issues, and a cover price of $2.99. No doubt this is test-market of a low production cost, high profit margin venture for DC disguised as a once-in-a-lifetime collectible opportunity. And therein lies a larger irony: that DC Comics may be turning to the tactics of an expiring newspaper industry to try and save an expiring comic book industry. If only the slide-rule and the 8-track cassette could have teamed up somehow, eh?

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Another Independence Day come and gone. July 4th is without a doubt my favorite holiday, though I don't care for picnics, fireworks, or parades. Ironic? I don't think so. If others enjoy their crowded public places, I'll stay in my own suddenly quiet neighborhood. Everybody wins.

My brother and his girl were disgusted by my favorite Independence Day activity: watching the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest. Sure, it's gross, but it's much more entertaining than, say, Easter Sunrise Mass or a Christmas Day NBA double-header. (While it's not quite Thanksgiving Day NFL football, the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Competition only takes 10 minutes, barring overtime, and I'm not forced to watch this with the very same extended family that I try to avoid for the rest of the year.) How can you not love a competition that was cancelled by promoters in 1971 to protest "the reign of free love"? And I'm not alone in my appreciation of this grand event: it's estimated that nearly as many people showed up just to watch this year's contest as ran in Atlanta's Peachtree Road Race earlier the same day.

Maybe all of this success is because of the unique nature of the competition as a quintessentially American event complete with hot dogs, gluttony, and red, white, and blue bunting. When asked why he competes annually in this contest, 2007-08 champion Joey Chestnut summed it all up, "I love to eat. I love the competition. And... it's Fourth of July, and you can get away with it on this day, push your body this hard over something silly like this." Damn straight, Joey. It sure beats running a 10K.

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Just in time for the July release of the latest sure-to-be-schlock Batman movie, The Dark Knight, Batman has killed again. But it wasn't some policeman or stunt driver this time. This past Saturday, the Batman: The Ride roller coaster at Six Flags Over Georgia decapitated a 17-year old boy.

Sure, the boy had jumped some fences to enter an unauthorized area around the coaster, but isn't that what Batman would do? The boy was only trying to protect his property, after all, and Batman is all about defending one's territory and goods. And what was the boy in search of? That's right: his cap, which as we all know is the key to any teenaged Southern boy's identity.

Six Flags, you've done it again. Like every great super villain, you attack your heroic nemesis where it hurts the most: their reputation. Last year you rip the feet off of a girl on a Superman: Tower of Power ride, this year, you tear the head off a boy with a Batman ride. (This is actually the second reported fatality for this ride. In 2002, it killed a ride operator.) And these aren't the only instances. Six Flags Darien Lake's Superman: Ride of Steel nearly killed a rider in 1999, a manslaughter successfully perpetrated five years later by the identical ride at another park when Superman: Ride of Steel at Six Flag New England killed a rider in 2004.

So be careful out there, people. If a dancing centenarian or screaming Asian arrives on your doorstep with a can of Coke offering a Six Flags admission discount, it's probably a trap.

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I'm making up for my total lack of pictures during July with two YouTube videos today. These are both my brother's and mine 30-second submissions in the Heinz Top This TV commercial contest.

Mine first:

And Trey's:

Watch them. Enjoy them. And be assured that should either one of these videos make it into the 15 semi finalists (of a field of well over 2,000), you're going to be voting on one of them as your favorite over at YouTube.

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