“Isn’t he a cute little…holy shit! How did he do that?”
Or sometimes if he’s on the bed with you he’ll climb onto your chest and stick his ass right in your face:
“Hey, here’s my ass! Check my ass, Daddy! Get a nice, clean look at my ass!”
And then while he’s showing you his ass, he starts that kneading thing with his paws; like he’s playin’ the piano. God, I hate that.
“Get him offa me! Jesus, I hate that! I don’t even know what it is, and I hate that. It’s as if he got hold of some bad drugs. What is that?”
“It’s an instinctive nursing behavior, honey. He misses his mommy.”
“You always say that. You said that about the mailman.”
DOG MOMENTS #1
Fido Doesn’t Care
Dogs have no priorities or schedules. You rarely see a dog with a wristwatch. Most things they do they will do anywhere, at any time. Except for the things you teach them not to do:
“Laszlo! Don’t ever do that again. If you do I’ll beat the shit out of you!”
They do catch on to suggestions like that.
But basically, a dog doesn’t care what he does. He’ll simply do whatever’s next. He doesn’t really know what’s next, but he’ll think of something.
He might even do two things in a row that don’t go together. Did y’ever see a dog trotting through a room, apparently headed somewhere, and suddenly he stops and chews his back for about eight minutes? As if the whole thing were scheduled for that exact moment? And then finally, when he’s finished chewing, he forgets where he was going in the first place and just sort of looks around, confused.
“Let’s see, where was I goin’? Shit, I forget. Seemed important at the time. Well, I guess I’ll just lie down here under this chair. Hey, it’s nice under here. I must do this more often.”
He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care.
A Little Light Buffet
Like I say, he’ll do anything at any time. He might even embarrass you when you have company.
You might have some folks over to the house; folks you don’t know that well; people you’re tryin’ to impress. Hell, you might even be tryin’ to borrow money from one of these assholes.
And all these people are sittin’ around the living room, and you’ve put out some chips and a little dip, carrot sticks, maybe a little light buffet, and everybody is eating nicely and chatting politely, and the dog is lying there on the floor, in full view.
And suddenly, you glance over, and realize that the dog…is licking…his balls! Vigorously! Big, long, loving licks, in full view of everyone. And no one is saying a word.
Remember now, a spectacular thing is taking place: a naked, living creature is administering a modified form of autofellatio in the presence of strangers. Not only is it a spectacular act, it’s difficult to do. If I could do that I’d never leave the house.
And yet it goes unremarked. And if someone does say something, it’s usually innocuous.
“Look. Isn’t he cute? He’s taking a bath.”
“No, Carla, that’s not a bath. That’s called licking your balls. If that’s a bath, I’d have to say it’s a mighty selective one. He’s been on that one spot for over an hour now.”
Then the dog trots over and starts to lick your face.
“No, no! No, Bruno! Down! Down, Bruno! Nice doggie!”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Don’t you know they have the cleanest mouth of any animal?”
“Well, I’m not a chemist, Velma. I’m just basing my judgment on his most recent activity, which you’ll recall was licking his balls.”
SHORT TAKES
Here’s a word you don’t see anymore: foodstuffs. I wish it would make a comeback.
Suppose you took an oath by placing your right hand on the Bible and raising your left? Would the oath still count? Does God really give a shit? Does anyone?
Let’s give credit where it’s due and admit that Scotch tape was a really great idea.
Here’s a fun thing to do on a Saturday afternoon. As you watch the football scores on TV, try to visualize each college’s campus. Then picture yourself fucking someone on the lawn in front of the Administration Building.
You live eighty years, and at best you get about six minutes of pure magic.
America would be better off if we took all these male Citadel and VMI students and simply castrated them. What kind of pig jackoffs go to these places in the first place? I say cut off their nuts.
I think the blacks in South Africa should just go ahead and kill all the whites and be done with it. Problem solved.
Remembering exactly where you were when some famous person died is a meaningless exercise. It’s an attempt by ordinary people to connect their dull lives to important events. Can’t we discourage this practice?
There are eleven teams in the Big Ten.
The gray-haired douche bag, Barbara Bush, has a slogan: “Encourage your child to read every day.” What she should be doing is encouraging children to question what they read every day.
“Rivera Live ”is such a good show. If only Rivera weren’t on it.
Sometimes when you’re burying a guy alive, for a moment or two you start feeling sorry for him. And then it passes, and you keep on shovelling.
I have a friend who loves to run through Der Weinerschnitzel yelling, “Bon appetito!”
I think everyone should treat one another in a Christian manner. I will not however be responsible for the consequences.
I wonder if an Elvis impersonator could ever get famous enough so that someone who looked like him could become a celebrity lookalike. Is there room in this culture for an Elvis- impersonator lookalike? Probably.
One objection to cloning human beings is that there’s a chance for abnormal offspring. Yeah? So? You ever take a look at some of those families in the South?
Why do they bother saying “raw sewage”? Do some people actually cook that stuff?
I think pimps should have an Employee of the Month the way other businesses do. It would be good for morale. And I’ll bet blow jobs would improve, too.
You rarely run into a damsel anymore.
Whenever I hear someone referred to as a spiritual leader, I wonder why the spirit world needs leaders.
Here’s more bullshit middlebrow philosophy: “That which doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.” I’ve got something a little more realistic: “That which doesn’t kill me still may sever my spinal cord, crush my rib cage, cave in my skull, and leave me helpless and paralyzed, soaking in a puddle of my own waste.” Put that on your T-shirt, touchy-feely, New Age asshole!
These days many politicians are demanding change. Just like homeless people.
I think highways should have a beer lane.
Live and let live, that’s what I say. Anyone who can’t understand that should be killed. It’s a simple philosophy, but it’s always worked well in our family.
Isn’t it time we stopped wasting valuable land on cemeteries? Talk about an idea whose time has passed: “Let’s put all the dead people in boxes and keep them in one part of town.” What kind of medieval bullshit is that? I say, plow these motherfuckers up and throw them away. Or melt them down. We need that phosphorous for farming. If we’re going to recycle, let’s get serious.
True Stuff: Because of all the lawsuits against “good Samaritans ”whose efforts end badly, fewer people are willing to stop and lend assistance at the scene of an accident. As a result, experts are wondering whether or not we need laws compelling us to help each other.
Joan Rivers turned into one of the people she used to make fun of.
I’m thinking of buying a church and changing it around; maybe selling crack and having a few whores in the pews.
Here’s a little car fun. If someone is driving alongside you in the right-hand lane, act concerned and wave them toward the side of the road, yelling, “Pull over! Pull over! Pull over!” When they finally pull over, just keep going. Let ’em sit there
and think it over for a while. It’s certainly none of your concern. In fact, you don’t want to have anything to do with a person like that.
Something I really don’t like is claymation; that stop-action animation junk. Why don’t they can that shit? It’s fake-looking, and it detracts from the story.
DOG MOMENTS #2
Canine Standard Time
A dog doesn’t understand time. Like a young child, he doesn’t know the difference between eight o’clock and a week ago Tuesday. The only period of time a dog understands is forever. And that’s how long he thinks everything is gonna last.
Y’ever scratch your dog behind the ears? They really love that, don’t they?
“Oh boy, oh boy! Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!! Daddy’s scratchin’ me behind the ears! My favorite thing. Oh boy, oh boy! This is great!”
And you’re scratchin’ and scratchin’, and he’s lovin’ it, and lookin’ up at you adoringly, his eyes rollin’ back in his head, and then suddenly you stop. And he looks at you like you’re some kind of diseased criminal pervert. He’s disappointed. He thought the scratchin’ was gonna last forever.
He can’t help it—he just doesn’t know what time it is.
Home Alone
It’s especially bad when you go out and leave him alone. He thinks you’re never coming back. Never. That must be what he thinks, or else why would he act the way he does when you finally get home? All hyper and excited and revved up like he just ate a pound and a half of methamphetamine:
“Oh-boy-oh-boy-oh-boy-oh-boy-oh-boy!! IthoughtyouwerenevergonnacomehomeIthoughtyouwerenevergonnacomehomeIthoughtyouwerenevergonnacomehome! I was so scared. I was so lonely. Scared and lonely. I didn’t know what to do. I was all alone. I thought I would never eat again. I don’t know how to prepare food. I’m a dog. I can’t cook. I can’t do anything. I don’t even know how to operate a can opener. How do ya do that? What do you do, push down the little handle? Couldn’t figure it out. Gimme some food. Gimme a kiss. Shake hands. Here’s my paw. You want me to roll over? I’ll do it. Just don’t leave me! Don’t go! Don’t go! I swear, I’ll never pee in the house again! I’ll never pee anywhere again! Just don’t leave me alone!”
And it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been gone. They go into this speed-freak mode even if all you did was forget your hat and come back a few seconds later.
“Oh-boy-oh-boy-oh-boy! I thought you were never gonna come home! Et cetera, et cetera. Is that how ya say that? Et cetera? Anyway, I got hungry. Again. The minute you left. I was gonna eat the cat. I couldn’t find him. Where the fuck’s the cat? What did ya do, hide the cat?”
“Lester, will you stop it? Calm down! I was just here a few seconds ago!”
They really miss you. And they have no idea what time it is.
SOME LIKE IT HOT
Think for a moment about flamethrowers. The fact that we have them at all. Well, actually we don’t have them, the army has them. You know, I hadn’t thought of that; the army has all the flamethrowers. I’d say we’re jolly well fucked if we have to go up against the army, wouldn’t you?
My point is that there are even such things as flamethrowers in the first place. What it indicates to me is that at some point, some person, Phil perhaps, said to himself, “Look at all those people across the road. What I wouldn’t give to set them on fire. But I’m much too far away. If only I had some device that would shoot flames on them.”
Well, the whole thing might’ve ended right there, but Phil happened to mention it to his friend, Dwyane, one of those people who’s good with tools. About a month later, Dwayne was back.
“Phil, that idea of yours? Quite a concept. Watch!”
WHOOOOOOSH! WHOOOOOOMPH! CRACKLE! BURN!
Before long, the army came around. “Hi boys. We want to buy 500, 000 of those flamethrowers. We have a long list of people we’d like to set on fire. Give us 500, 000 and have them camouflaged. We don’t want anyone seeing them until they’re fully consumed by flames.”
Phil and Dwayne made lots of money and died in a fireworks accident on the 4th of July.
MAYBE THEY’LL ADOPT
Concerning news coverage at the National Zoo: Do you care if the pandas fuck? I don’t. Why don’t they stop telling us the pandas didn’t fuck again this year? I’m not concerned. I have no emotional stake in panda-fucking. If they want to they will, if not, they’ll watch The Price Is Right.
Probably the only reason the pandas aren’t fucking on schedule is because some environmental jackoff has moved into the cage with them. Could you get a hard-on if some loser in a green T-shirt was taking your girlfriend’s rectal temperature? Leave these creatures alone. And please God, save the planet from environmentalists.
THE MISCELLANEOUS AILMENTS FOUNDATION
Not every human ailment has a telethon to help raise money. This space is donated to the Miscellaneous Ailments Foundation. If you or a loved one suffer from any of the following conditions, open your heart, dig deep, and give what you can. And please, no small donations. Try to give more than you can afford.
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