OUR CHILDREN INSTEAD OF CHILDREN

Grim dogs on leashes at the top of the hill, being forced to go potty because their masters have a work schedule. It is surprising that the beasts aren't permanently constipated, as it takes a human intellect to bowel-move on a strict schedule. Tens of thousands of years ago the first canids decided that eating scraps thrown at them around a campfire might not be a bad idea. Now their descendants, short and poodle-shaped, named 'Fluffy', are made to perform number two. Or even worse, something that looks like a cross between a meatloaf and a sea-floor horror (French bulldog) gets told he just doesn't measure up because he can't deliver.

Being wise beyond my years, I cross to the other side of the street with my pipe. A dog needs privacy at such moments, and I'm sorry but though I sympathize with him I am not capable of being warmly supportive. As I should be.


Instinctively, after generations of natural selection, some humans are conditioned to value the productive capabilities of a canine's lower digestive tract. We make absolutely sure that it, and the beast to which it belongs, get enough fuel and exercise, we take it ambulating out around the neighborhood, we make sure to attend to the correct maximally productive diet, we collect it in little green bags, and we elect the result to the highest office in the land.

For the first time in generations, our president is NOT a dog-person.
And the results, you will agree, are clear.

That's why he has Hegseth and Patel and Rubio. Et mult autres. So that collectively they can produce the necessary little piles of refuse and deposits of fewmets marking their territory, and pretend that it resembles normalcy.

And the public dutifully exclaims "good boy" and "oh isn't he precious!"
Curiously they sniff his rear and pretend that everything is fine.

Then he curls up into the faecal position and demands to be changed.



Not having a pet, and being more of a cat person myself, I think I have the perspective that allows me to see things as they really are. Everything west of Treasure Island is a giant dog park, badly maintained, and richly reeking. Y'all need little green plastic baggies! Plus shovels! The areas around your trailer parks and suburban developments stink!


Dang! Lazy creatures, you haven't cleaned up in ages!


The first cup of strong coffee, followed by the first pipe-smoke and a walk, get the mental juices flowing. The results, I think, speak for themselves. Philosophy and deep thoughts.
The torrential advance of civilization, in leaps and bounds.
We're in metaphors up to our eyebrows.
Positively drowning.



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