All Dogs Go To Hell
Loyal companions. Puppy love. Man’s best friend. They’ve got plenty of names, but they’re all dogshit. Dogs are no more than a wagging, drooling, obnoxious and unnecessary liability. Make all the dog movies you want. Give them leading roles, let them shoot basketballs, let them dance and save babies from wells, let midgets dress up like cowboys and ride them around. Don’t act appalled. That sappy, over-budget slop film, “Marley and Me,” can suck a thousand dog dicks. You go ahead and sit around crying about a mutt. I’ll be over here.
Dog lovers will tell you right to your face, “Dogs are more loyal than humans.” They’ll push some of their long hair behind their ear as they cradle their overfed field mouse, “He’s a teacup Pekingese. I rescued him.”
Did you really? Did you scale a ladder, punch through a window, crawl across a burning room and pick that walking dingleberry up by the back of the neck? Did you jump into an iced over river in all your clothes, drag him to safety and breathe life back into his eight pound body? No? Then you’re a silly bitch and I hope your rat-dog gets parvo.
You can’t even rub a dog’s stomach without it halving half a seizure. Its stupid runt leg starts tweaking out. I don’t know what’s going on there. Science doesn’t know what’s going on there. Maybe a glitch in their stupid, porous dog brain. They’ve got whiffle balls for brains. Why do you think you see so many of them in a bloody, snarled pile on the side of the road? They’re four-legged idiots. They’ve got noses a hundred times more powerful than a human, they can hear into the future, but they haven’t got the sense to move to one side or the other. Real bright creatures, these dogs. God did a fine job on them.
Man’s best friend? Unless you’re a fucking mailman. Every day that same dude shows up in his blue shirt, but the dog, your shit-brained loyal companion, doesn’t see the fucking pattern. Every day at two o’clock it tries to fully murder the poor guy. Have you ever tried walking a dog? The length of the leash doesn’t change, yet Sparky will continue to choke himself half to death. They put their noses in every piss puddle they come across. They’re clumsy. They’ve got bad breath and awful hygiene. Don’t get me started on these designer bands; pugs, tecups, anything with a bow in its stupid mane. If your real best friend had any of these qualities, you’d be looking for a new best friend.
I get it. They’re soft as fuck. It’s funny to throw a ball and have some moron continuously chase after it. Oh, and they’re protective. They bark at intruders…and grandmothers, and anyone wearing a wig or a uniform, or brightly colored shoes. Flawless alarm system you go there. What about when they maul small children because they mistook them for murderous criminals? You might as well get a motion activated shotgun and set it up beside your baby monitor. The first victim will be that idiot dog, because he can smell Russia, but he can’t smell gun powder.
Dogs are useless. Unless it’s a hunting dog, or one of those dogs that learned how to take blind people to…blind people school – or wherever blind people go. I’d like to line all the other service dogs up in a big triangle shape and bowl garbage trucks at them. Your anxiety dog gives me anxiety. I cringe every time I see one in some buffoon’s purse. I just want to drop it off a balcony, keep it attached to its pink, bedazzled leash, gather all the neighborhood mailmen, give them whiffle ball bats and tequila shots and tell them there’s candy inside. I shouldn’t have to smell dog-farts while I eat my cheeseburger because you can’t emotionally handle your breakup.
How about go lay down? How about that, for a change? I don’t need a cold, runny dog nose in my mouth every time I bend over to tie my shoes. I’m actually surprised people still bring them into their homes. Do you know who isn’t going to shit in your living room? A house plant. It won’t snack on cat feces, it won’t eat the downstairs neighbor kid, it won’t dry hump your fallen mother-in-law to completion. A house plant is the way to go.
We won’t get into the cat vs. dog argument, not today. This is about dogs. Spastic, public asshole-licking dogs. When PETA finally goes under, I’m getting a nice, loyal, floor-length coat.
