They’re not Just for Compost Any More

Moxie has located one of the best dog Youtubes I’ve ever seen. It shows that even a dog can be smart enough to realize socialism is evil. Take a look.

As long as I’m talking about dog videos, I’ll post one of my favorites.

I wanted to set up an electronic amusement system for Maynard and Marvin. I was going to mount cheap plastic keyboards over their cages, with cords attached to the keys. I figured they would enjoy playing bird music. But the keyboards I ordered never showed up, and I forgot all about it. I have to get that project done.

I had another idea for connecting two toys, one in each cage. My hope was that they would battle each other in a perpetual tug of war, and that this would make them shut up once in a while. I made preliminary efforts to get this working, but they paid no attention. I have tried to stimulate them to be more cooperative, even offering to name one of them Employee of the Month, but it appears that they have no ambition whatsoever, unless “ambition” can be construed to mean a lifelong quest to poop on increasingly expensive objects. I think Marv actually has dreams where he poops on the Mona Lisa and then receives worship and peanuts from hordes of adoring parrots.

I don’t know why that dog is eating carrots. A Republican dog should eat meat, preferably dripping blood and still squirming, and if possible, it should be something endangered. Or a hippie. Dogs like eating things that smell. On the other hand, the drug residue in a hippie’s carcass could cause a dog to trip for days, and then you would find Oreo wrappers all over your yard and maybe blacklight posters taped to the ceiling of the dog house.

Anything that reeks brings a dog pleasure. To a dog, a hippie would be like an entertainment center, and each smell would be like a separate channel. The dirty Birkenstock channel. The greasy hair channel. The infected piercing channel. Hippies always claim they love animals, but if they did, they would visit bored dogs at the Humane Society and let them smell them for a while.

I’ll send PETA a note and see what they think. Maybe instead of ink, I should write it in blood from a package of factory veal.