Thursday, September 25, 2014

Forget what I just said

My dog has this habit of burying his face in his own ass. I could get beat him, I could try to logic with him (if you're dumb enough to think dogs are people too, you might), I could apply crushed red peppers to his sphincter. Instead, I grab a squeaky toy, squeeze it and whatever is so important he feels the need to go spelunking in his own anal cavity is forgotten. For a moment at least.

My dog is an idiot, easily duped.

That's how I feel every time some Conservatives get butthurt over some perceived slight by B-Rock. Things like Benghazi are my dogs asshole, the salute faux paus is the squeaky toy. I am so tempted to apply crushed red peppers to their assholes. You'd have better luck trying logic on my dog.



This is my last Thursday in California City.