A BOLD BLUFF

It's been a mob scene around the house these days, ever since word leaked that I am the distinguished gentleman who purchased the two "Dogs Playing Poker" paintings for a whopping $590,000.*

I was trying to stay anonymous, of course.* But I found it was simply impossible to lug the paintings around without being noticed.*

I invested in the original Cassius Marcellus Coolidge paintings at an auction in New York last week because of my abiding appreciation for culture and the arts.* At the moment, the works have been installed in the "dog wing" of my home, occupying a wall opposite original prints of Weimaraners dressed as ballerinas and firefighters.*

Have I mentioned that I live in Prunedale?

For those of you who are not well-versed in fine art, the two paintings acquired at auction are called "A Bold Bluff" and "Waterloo: Two." They are among a series of work completed in 1903 by Coolidge, when the esteemed artist was absorbed in what art historians now consider his "dogs playing poker period."

The paintings I picked up* depict five dogs sitting around a poker table in a classic poker tableau. In "A Bold Bluff," the St. Bernard is holding an obviously inferior hand. A large pile of poker chips has been thrown into the pot and the other four dogs are staring down the St. Bernard, trying to penetrate his poker face. The ash on the St. Bernard's cigar is growing long.

For reasons left unexplained by the artist, the two of spades is lying, face up, on an empty chair between the St. Bernard and the Great Dane.

In "Waterloo: Two," we see the St. Bernard raking in the substantial pot. As a coup de grace, the St. Bernard has exposed his bluff, eliciting comic expressions of disgust from the other dogs seated around the table.

If nothing else, last week's auction brought attention to the unappreciated genius* of Cassius Coolidge (1844-1934). In addition to creating a classic series of dog art, Coolidge is also credited with creating the first life-size plywood cutouts one finds at high-end carnivals in which a person can poke their head through a hole to be photographed as a character or animal.

Coolidge even once wrote an opera about a mosquito plague in New Jersey.

America should no longer take a back seat in the world of high-brow culture.* We have our DaVinci.*

The Coolidge classics first came to my attention at the home of my late grandmother, who maintained a deep fascination for dogs playing poker throughout her life and who cultivated a discerning appreciation for dog art in her grandchildren.

In addition to her dogs-playing-poker collection, Grandma Sue kept a thick scrapbook filled with cute illustrations of dogs she clipped from magazines, including some classics created by Norman Rockwell himself.

Now that I have acquired the ultimate in dog art*, I believe it is time to turn my attention to more serious endeavors.*

At the moment, for instance, I am considering a series of Skelton's more important works depicting sad-faced clowns.*

* At the urging of Barry Bonds, noted media analyst with the San Francisco Giants, the Joe Livernois Column has provided asterisks in sections of this column that are obvious lies.

MY SWEET RANCHO

My checklist to develop Rancho San Rancho:

* Assess the political climate for new subdivisions in Monterey County.

* Delude self into believing that everyone in Monterey County will happily embrace Rancho San Rancho's modern and state-of-the-art "new ruralism" design.

* Lie to investors about political climate in Monterey County.

* Hire local attorney who "knows how the system works."

* Memorize this line: "Rancho San Rancho will solve the local housing crisis."

* Show up at planning department with top-notch plans for Rancho San Rancho development. Fill out complicated development application.

* Election day is approaching: Contribute to friendly political candidates.

* Stop all agricultural production on Rancho San Rancho immediately so experts can later declare at public hearings that farming on the property is "not viable."

* Friendly candidate is facing tougher campaign than expected. Send more money.

* Cool heels for two or three years until planning department finally gets around to Rancho San Rancho development application.

* Make donation to local charity to indicate willingness to be a part of the community.

* Call newspaper editor to explain why donation to local charity should be tomorrow's banner headline.

* Hang out in area near Rancho San Rancho to shmooze with nagging neighbors.

* Shrug off nagging neighbors' concerns about water and traffic; hire hydrologists and engineers willing to prove Rancho San Rancho will actually improve the water supply and reduce highway traffic.

* Explain "new ruralism," using big and confusing words that nagging neighbors won't understand.

* Good news: Planning department finally got around to Rancho San Rancho application. Bad news: Environmental reports will cost thousands and will delay project another year or two.

* Quick! Send nocturnal poachers to Rancho San Rancho to capture red-legged frogs and other pesky endangered critters before environmental consultant shows up for inspection.

* Assure anxious investors that Rancho San Rancho application is "moving right along."

* Host extravagant party at AT&T Pebble Beach Pro-Am and invite every public official who might someday be asked to approve Rancho San Rancho.

* Listen with condescending patience while nagging neighbors and stupid no-growthers rip Rancho San Rancho to shreds during public hearings.

* Instruct attorney to counteract stupid no-growthers' testimony by declaring that Rancho San Rancho will solve housing crisis.

* Pretend that outcome was ever in doubt by profusely thanking governing board after it inevitably approves Rancho San Rancho.

* Hang around shopping malls to badger volunteers collecting signatures to stop Rancho San Rancho.

* Mumble profanities when nagging neighbors file lawsuits challenging Rancho San Rancho.

* Explain to investors why original summation of political climate was seriously flawed.

* Wait a few years, then return to planning department with "new and improved" plan for Rancho San Rancho.

NEANDERMAN WALKS THE EARTH!

Scientists with nothing better to do have been pondering an age-old question: Did humans ever mate with Neanderthals?

The answer should be obvious to anyone who happens to be in Pebble Beach this weekend, where the open spaces in the forest will become a domain for robust men with strong jaws who swing clubs and grunt the language of "golf."

DNA specialists have been trying to make the Neanderthal-human link in an effort to prove that the two carbon-based life forms may have cohabited more than 40,000 years ago. Anthropologists believe the results of their coupling are a subspecies of Neandermen who have evolved over the years into what most of us now refer to as golfers.

Research into Neanderthals started in earnest about 150 years ago, after quarrymen in the Neander Valley of Germany discovered the fossilized remains of Phil Harris, who eventually became a marginal celebrity of the 1940s and who showed up at virtually every Bing Crosby Pro-Am golf tournament at Pebble Beach to spill whiskey on the shoes of fellow golfers.

Anthropologists say the Bing Crosby Pro-Am was a sporting event that predates the time when golf tournaments became nothing but a big corporate yukfest. It was a simpler time, when watching rummy old men spill their drinks was considered high comedy.

But the links between yesteryear's crude Neanderthals and today's refined golfers are too similar to dispel as mere coincidence. Glen Campbell, after all, plays golf.

More important, the Joe Livernois Column earns high points this week for its skilled use of the word "links" in a column about golf. Perhaps, when the Joe Livernois Column evolves from its current Flintstonean existence, it might someday have the clever imagination necessary to link celebrity golfers with the title of a movie in which the celebrity once appeared.

Getting back to the main point, though, the similarities between golfers and Neanderthals are startling.

According to the anthropologists, Neanderthals were talented users of "tools," crafting spears, hammers, knives and Callaway Big Bertha obsidian drivers. Scientists also believe Neanderthals were the first beings on earth to place a firm grip on their putters.

The original Neanderthals roamed the landscape of Europe and the Middle East. Some anthropologists believe Neanderthals evolved from an even cruder life-form called "homo erectus," but those claims were recently challenged by Creationists who refuse to accept that any scientific term with the word "homo" in it can describe a natural phenomenon.

Scientists were excited last year by one of their more astounding discoveries: a man fitting the description of a purebred Neanderthal found in a spider hole in the country of Iraq. But their excitement turned to disappointment after the man insisted he despised the sport of golf.

The original tribes of Neanderthals are now extinct and anthropologists who care about such things are trying to figure out exactly what killed them off. To date, their most valid theories point to the fact that Neanderthals must have been a society of life-wasting sluggards in that they spent so much of their time playing golf.

Queer Eye for Snagglepuss

Thank goodness alert do-gooders like myself have dedicated our lives to high-minded pursuits, like the sex lives of cartoon characters.

Without our warnings, millions of people who are not as bright as we are might naively get sucked in to the homosexual lifestyles now in fashion with so many popular cartoon characters.

The alarm was sounded recently when Dr. James Dobson urgently warned the American public that SpongeBob SquarePants has fallen prey to the forces of depravity soon after SpongeBob was spotted arm-in-arm with Tinky Winky during last year's Halloween celebration in the Castro District.

What Dobson doesn't tell us, however, is that there is a long and troubled history of deviant behavior among cartoon characters, a situation that the liberal media have "covered up" for way too long.

Since the invention of television, insidious pagans have successfully brainwashed America's youth with manipulative cartoons with the clear intention of turning us all into a society of SquarePants.

Because the Joe Livernois Column believes it has a sacred duty to lift the scab of secrecy from the festering sore of decadence, we are obliged to out beloved cartoon characters who are leading double lives.

This may be shocking to some readers, but the serious pursuit of ridiculous innuendo about fictitious characters is a messy business.

* Betty Boop is really a guy.

* How obvious can a cartoon character named "Woody Woodpecker" be?

* Who among us hasn't wondered about Donald Duck and his so-called "nephews?" Donald always had his Daisy, sure, but Rock Hudson always had his Doris Day.

* Even as children, most of us surely recognized the sadly latent repression evident in Yosemite Sam, what with him blasting his six-shooter into the floor all the time.

* Has anyone ever seen an episode of Bugs Bunny in which, at some point, Bugs isn't dressed in drag?

* Bullwinkle is certainly not gay, but he deserves our scorn and he will be condemned to eternal torment for his misguided "tolerance" of Rocky.

* Has anyone ever seen Elmer Fudd with a wife?

* What possible conclusion can we make for "Cub Reporter" Jimmy Olson, who is constantly putting himself in harm's way to be saved by Superman and who is profoundly jealous of Lois Lane?

* The "dynamic duo" of Batman and Robin? Fred and Barney? Sherman and Peabody? Give me a break.

* Heavens to Murgatroyd. Snagglepuss has gotta be gay!

* Schroeder seems to spend way too much time at the piano, spurning the advances of Lucy. And let's not forget Peppermint Patty.

* Yogi Bear might seem "smarter than the average bear," but how many straight bears do you know who wander around the forest wearing nothing but a hat and a tie in the company of a chap named "Boo-Boo?" At least SpongeBob wears trousers.

* Wile E. Coyote recently came out of the closet after the vice squad discovered his stash of "Acme Marital Aids."

* If you ask us, Clutch Cargo and his pals seem to be having way too much fun in the jungle.

* Take our word for it: Popeye is definitely not gay!