Peter Elyakim Taussig
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Why I Hate Dogs

8/9/2020

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“Any man who hates dogs and babies can’t be all bad”
                                                                           W.C. Fields
 
    Here is how you make a dog. You take a really weak and stupid wolf, lobotomize it, and genetically engineer what’s left to mimic the worst qualities of you, a human. It will automatically wag its tail every time it sees you, a veritable biological robot, just like you. You don’t wag your tail (at least not in public) but you automatically turn on that fake smile when your boss enters the room (and then call him an asshole behind his back). Your dog has been programmed to make you believe it loves you, just as you have been programmed to believe that the big dog (sorry, I mean god) in the sky loves you.
    Just as the nicest family man can turn on a dime into a killer, the sweetest pooch will tear a piece out of your behind when you least expect it. I speak from experience. Last year I was attacked by a Great Pyrenee whose owner was baffled why such a sweet doggie (weighing 95 pounds) would do such a thing. My only provocation was to walk by its electric fence. Great Pyrenees are amongst the dumbest and most vicious breed of these otherwise stupid and vicious mutants.
    You want to understand the absurdity of war just look at what Man’s Best Friend has been bred to do. It has been programmed to defend your/its territory. Turns out you don’t need even to invade its territory for it to lunge at you. It claims off-shore territorial and airspace rights that far exceed its owners boundaries, just like the United States. Anyone showing up on the horizon, regardless of their intentions, is fair game. Man’s Best Friend may protect your territory but it keeps all the neighbors awake at night.
    Like humans, dogs have very short memories. I mean how many times does the UPS truck have to show up in your driveway before your dog will finally just open one eye and say: “Ah, the hell with it, I’m tired”? A million times, a trillion? No such luck. The millionth time is like the first: “OMG, a truck! a brown truck! danger! Must chase it away, arf, arf, arf”. Dogs are born with Alzheimer’s.
    I look at grown up women carrying some artificially stunted specimens in their handbags, nuzzling them and speaking English to them like a two-year-old talking to her stuffed doll, are an embarrassment. But then their IQs may not exceed their pets’ by much. “Hello lady, that snout you’re nuzzling was in a pile of shit moments ago”. I could never have any respect for a species that gets its information from piss.
    Buying affection is another trait we bred into dogs. We have different ways to buy affection, with money, sex, perks, loyalty. With dogs it’s just food. Did you know that there are more dogs in America than citizens in Afghanistan, and their diet and healthcare are far superior.
But the worst trait that dogs picked up from their masters is the knack to pollute. Just walk any city street executing your slalom run between piles of excrement, or watch your backyard slowly turning into a cesspool, and you will be reminded of your fellow humans who for millennia defecated into  their own water source (and some continue to do so in places like India and Africa). Leave a dog ungroomed for a while and it will degenerate into a walking stinky carpet. Why can’t they be like cats? Why can’t they at least clean after themselves? Have you ever seen a cat slobber all over you? But then cats can’t be programmed. Your cat owns you. Cats retain their dignity even if they depend on you to feed them, and unless you have de-clawed your cat it could in most likelihood manage OK without you.

    Not your dog. As I said, it’s not an animal. It’s your clone.
   
    As dogs proliferate and more and more of people’s disposable income is spent on them what will happen once their numbers exceed humans’? Are we going to have a Dog’s equal rights amendment? Dog-enabled public transportation? Universal dogcare? A dog president?
I tell you, the world has gone to the dogs, as my father used to say.

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  • Home
  • Books
    • Yossl the Citron King
    • The Atheist's Guide to Miracles
    • Imposter
    • The Art of Fugue
    • Blombach
    • Man without a shadow
    • Ozzie's Last Triumph
    • Dancing on the Head of a Pin
    • Tootpicks for Dinner
    • Lost in the Dunes
    • Rhymes Lost to Reason: Poems
    • Arsy-Versy: New Poems
  • Music
  • Photography
    • The Secret Lives of Trees
    • What the Sand Whispered
    • Creatures of Enchanted Woods
    • Video, comedy
  • About
  • Contact
  • Blogs
    • Poems
    • Posts
  • Piano Recordings