i've done 350 of these dang things....so seriously, you write this one. write a blog in a style similar to mine (in other words, a psychotic rant) and send me the link to it. as i receive them, i'll place links right here on this very blog. you don't have to be on my friends list or even have a blog on myspace. if you're just a reader that checks in every now and then, i want to read a psychotic blog from you as well.

so, get to it....i wanna see how many of you folks actually go ahead and do it. so yeah, get to it and write my blog for me, you lazy bums! and check back to check out the blogs that you fine folks created. toodles.

*NOTE* oh, and check back next week....the third-annual week-long weird eating habit dealie will take place. it's gonna be swell.

YOUR BLOG LINKS

BFF... Best Friend Felonies?! (It's TRUE!!)
written by: [x] Angel in Chains [x] .:.Razorblade Kisses.:.

This one if for the Ape.
written by: CBL

INSANITY!!!!
written by: Motormouth Missy

Boogers: The Good, The Bad, The Ugly...
written by: Dorf

hitler was once an adorable little child....innocent, playful, maybe even loving. people can hate hitler 'til the day they die...but the fact remains that if those same people saw a baby picture of hitler and weren't told who the baby was, they would probably babble on about how adorable the lad was.

it's a weird thing to think...people who are considered absolute evil like adolf hitler, joseph stalin, and david arquette....they were all babies at one time. each and every one of them had old ladies pinch their cheeks and swarms of people flock over to tell them how adorable they were. each one was innocent. each one was without any sort of evil inside their adorable little hearts.

but sure enough....each one grew up to be absolute evil. each one caused destruction. each one ruined the lives of millions. as a society, we're all concerned on how to prevent future babies from growing up to be hateful mongers of destruction like them. but, nobody has offered a good solution to the problem. well, i'm about to....right here. right now.

kill the babies.

you heard me. no more babies...no more fear of them growing up to slaughter innocent lives.

before anyone tries to curse me out for suggesting such a thing, let me just say this: would you ever harm a baby? no. would a baby ever harm you? in a heart beat...but not your heart beat because the baby will have already ripped it from your now-lifeless chest. it's us or them, people. we need to face reality; it's us or them.

if you're concerned about our population dropping at a rapid rate, then don't. we've got the tools to clone now...no more babies needed. you're about to die? get cloned. a cloned child is more likely to retain their peaceful nature than one of those wild, savage, un-cloned ones. see? i'm thinking ahead.

so, i think we should all grab the nearest baby around us, take 'em to the octagon, and have ourselves a caged free-for-all to prove whitney houston wrong. the children aren't our future....our clones are.

so, how about it folks? are you with me? hmmmm? at what length are we willing to go to protect our future?....to protect the future of our clones?....and our grandclones?...and our great grandclones? can you kill a baby? will you kill a baby? if we want a peaceful future, we may have to. their future, and our own, is in our hands...

i was just thinking....and i am offended, disgusted, offended, appalled, and offended, dang it. just who in the name of bea arthur does kraft think it is? hmmm? yeah, i'm talking about kraft....the company that makes cheese-flavored cheese food products. they are horrid, horrid individuals to do this gosh dang offensive offensity.

yeah, i made that word up. i'm too offended to think of a real word to put in its place.

anyway, you might be wondering what all the hooplah is about....well, let me show you.



do you see that? do you folks see what i see? doesn't it just offend you to the very core? for the few of you who don't understand why i'm a-huffin' and puffin' over this product, let me explain it for everyone.

they're called handi snacks....HANDI snacks.....HANDI snacks. this is what kraft expects the handicapped to eat? crackers, cheese, and a red strip of plastic? well, let me tell you something kraft, if that's your real name, the handicapped are people too, dang it! they deserve more than just cheese, crackers, and a red strip of plastic to devour! i am deeply offended by your lack of sensitivity to the issue of foods for the handicapped.

and what in the world is that dang red strip of plastic doing in there in the first place? they might be handicapped, but they don't have different mandibles than the rest of us. that red strip of plastic won't be eaten, you insensitive jerks. you can argue and say that it's there to spread the cheese....but you know what i say to that? SHAME ON YOU, KRAFT!

what? you think the handicapped can't handle little knives to spread their cheese? instead, you have to give them a little red strip of plastic with rounded-off edges. you know what that is? that's a mockery. A MOCKERY! that's what that is, dang it. instead of giving them a knife to properly spread cheese, you have to give them a piece of plastic that is basically a knife with what?....what does that red strip of plastic knife have? hmm, kraft? is it...A HANDICAP?!

oh, gee golly wiz sweet sassy molassey gee wilikers, this just riles me right up. it riles me right up! it's gettin' me in the fightin' mood, by george! so how about it, kraft? you wanna fight me? huh? you like to pick on the handicapped and try to limit them to consuming nothing but cheese, crackers, and that dang red strip of plastic that mocks them. you like to make the handicapped feel inferior? well, if i had a glove, i'd slap you in the face with it and challenge you to a duel!

you know what....i can't do this anymore. i can't keep writing. i'm gonna go...but before i do, just let me say this: kraft. you, me, parking lot. five minutes. you mess with the handicapped, you mess with me, tough guy. i am going to rip you apart. i'm going to punch you very unpleasantly in the lungs. i'm gonna bash your face in with an elephant's tusk and.........hey, what's that?



....ooooh.....those look so good. er...umm....alright....i'm still gonna beat you up in the parking lot, kraft, BUT....after i have some of those delicious, delicious handi snacks, first....and after i wipe the string of drool from my mouth......dang it.

oh great. old men everywhere are going to be clawing their way to the produce section at grocery stores now...apparently, watermelons are now being labeled as 'nature's viagra'. great. that's just what elderly women need...if they weren't already annoyed by the viagra fiasco, now they're gonna have to deal with their man spitting seeds out during the whole process. that's just not right.

how in the world did they decide that watermelon is nature's viagra, anyway? viagra is a white box with blue pills inside...watermelon is a pink fruit with black seeds inside. i guess there's sort of a connection there. but on the other hand, they're complete opposites. with viagra, you throw out the box and consume the pills....with watermelon, you consume the fruit but spit out the seeds. that's like the complete opposite of each other........unless, those dang scientists that gave us seedless watermelons are back at their frankenstein-like watermelon experiments again.



...yes, it makes perfect sense to me now. they've combined the two...you threw away the box and spit out the seeds, so they've combined the parts that you consumed to create some sort of bionic fruit. it's not natural, dang it....but i suppose it'll get more male folk to eat more out of the fruits and vegetables group like the food pyramid wants them to. but really, now....how are these watermelons nature's viagra if they genetically altered the fruit to grow with the blue pills within them?

now, cynics will state that these articles don't mention this viagramelon that i speak of...and that they only speak of the natural nutrients found within the watermelon itself having a similar effect on the human body that viagra has. those cynics are stupid. the nutrients they're talking about are obviously the viagra pill seeds found within the new watermelon monster they've created. they don't speak of the man-made fruit beast in the articles because they're afraid of a possible backlash within the scientific community. well, i'm not afraid. everyone knows that the scientific community is nothing but a bunch of nerds wearing white jackets and dorky pocket protectors...if they try to attack me, i can handle 'em....i'm a pretty mean dude.

you just take away their pocket protectors and replace them with leaking pens so that their jackets are covered in ink...they'll know not to mess with you anymore. it works. try it out sometime.

anyway, the fact is that scientists have created another consumable monster...one in which the seeds won't be spit out...but possibly consumed more often than the fruit that contains them. those old men better watch out, though...i heard swallowing those seeds makes a viagramelon sprout within their stomach...then again, i suppose that could explain why so many elderly men sprout that ever-so-popular, watermelon-shaped pot belly.

fin.

i got a request from the grand ol' joe...the one that's also known as being fishy. he wanted me to write about a certain professional wrestling comeback that happened in spain a few days ago...yes, the return of the ultimate warrior.



but wait a minute, wait a minute....that's not the ultimate warrior anymore. yes, i know. i was disappointed, too. you see, friends, good ol' jimmy hellwig has aged quite a bit since fans last saw him in a ring. he's aged and matured (well, as mature as you can get for someone who threatens to maim twelve-year-olds that make fun of him) and well, the aging and maturing take away some of the 'magic' one would see from a warrior match.

before i continue, here's about six minutes of his return match in spain against orlando jordan....

..

alright, let's start off by taking note of the warrior's entrance, shall we? that was the saddest attempt at running i've ever seen; it was more like a power walk....and gosh darn it, he was blown up before even entering the dang ring. then he shakes the ropes...blowing himself up even more. it's almost to the point that he has trouble walking around on the apron prior to even stepping foot inside the ring. now, i understand that he's old...but dang it, if you're blown up prior to the start of the match, how exactly are you going to give the fans a match worthy of the money they paid?

next, let's talk about his face paint...it looks like a birthday cake threw up in a tennis racket. plain and simple, that's what it looks like. you your face paint looks like bile from a baked good with candles in it projected through a piece of sporting equipment, then you should consider a different look. that birthday bile just ain't cuttin' it, bro.

then our favorite warrior dis-robes....or at least, he tries to. he has trouble getting his arms out of his sleeves. luckily for him, his two daughters are in the ring with him for some reason and they each grab a hold of a side and save their father from jobbing to a robe. and then the robe comes off....and gee golly wiz! it looks like the ultimate warrior belongs in a red box with the words 'sun maid' written on it. it looks like the time that mr. hellwig should have spent getting his cardio up so he wasn't winded on the trip to the ring was actually spent laying outside, turning his old grape-like muscle body into a sun-dried raisin body.

now, don't get me wrong here, the warrior is in good shape for his age...but gee wilikers, he's supposed to be a big, ol' wildman. you can't be a big, ol' wildman when the streamers you wear make you look like a purple and white huffy bicycle, dang it!! it's also hard to be a wildman when you have a neatly-trimmed haircut...complete with grayness and balding. when he shook the ropes twenty years ago, it looked cool with his hair flailing all over the place....now when he shakes the ropes, his haircut just makes it look like he's a stock broker having a stroke. if the haircut alone doesn't scream stock broker, then maybe this footage of warrior shaking the ropes while wearing a suit with suspenders will make you see things my way.

..

...hehe...that just makes me laugh. i almost wanna call him irwin r. warrior after seeing that.

anyway, before i stop ripping on the warrior, i've just gotta show one more video. this one is of the entire match between the warrior and orlando jordan.

..

at around the nine minute mark, the warrior kicks out of a superplex that he, himself executed. orlando jordan was on the receiving end and he made the cover. i don't have a problem with that because a superplex delivers some damage to both folks....what i don't understand is how the warrior gets his rush of adrenaline from kicking out of a move that he, himself, had executed. from there, the warrior does his normal match finish...except the sun-dried version. he power-walks off the ropes hitting a few clotheslines and then the weakest looking shoulderblock i've ever seen. it almost looked like he tripped and accidentally bumped his shoulder into mr. jordan. that, my friends is the finish of the match; anti-climatic and very terrible.

i don't have a whole lot more to say....i could sit and critique the whole match....but i won't. i feel as if i've ripped on jimmy hellwig enough for one blog. maybe i'll make fun of him some more in a future blog...because to be honest, it's pretty easy. but until then, i shall sign off....but not before cutting a little, miniature warrior promo of my own...

....the lives of the warriors and of those who have passed on to the land of a thousand voices have been ovaculated to see the faces of those who have walked upon the sands of turtle skulls and pidgeon flesh. these faces have formaducated the seas to part them in ways that mortal men cannot imagine....only those who are warriors can witness the water comb that the faces weild to part the seas. i have seen the seas parted by the faces' water comb! they open up a path....a path for the warriors to travel to their destination.....a path for the warriors....to travel...to....their....destinyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!

...and with that, i'll sign off. take care, all.

i was recently exposed to the first parasol that i had ever seen. it left me wondering what exactly they're used for. it obviously isn't for blocking rain like umbrellas are since some of them are made of tablecloth-like lace...



now, some stupid people may say that parasols are made to protect from the sun...but if that's the case, it still doesn't explain parasols like the one above that are littered with holes. what could something like that possibly protect you from? now, i've sat and pondered this question for a long time...and i'll tell you this, all twelve seconds of it have been like torture to my brain....but the torture was well worth it since i believe to have found the answer i was seeking: bad golfers.



think about it...it's something we'd all love protection against. golfers so bad that they learn to hate holes of all kinds since they can never seem to get their balls in 'em.

before i continue, i'll pause and let all of you adult-minded individuals have a good laugh at the above statement...for the rest of us, let's enjoy some sweet saxophone music until those immature folks finish with their laughing.

..

alright, moving on. bad golfers are menaces and it's only natural for people to want to shield themselves from them. it's a proven medical fact that exposure to bad golfers will give you elbow joint gingivitis...this unpleasant disease prevents the victim from ever being able to pull of a good golf swing for the rest of their lives. even if caught at an early stage, the disease will still cause considerable damage to the joint, causing the victim to swing like an old lady in a walker.

seriously, i honestly believe that these parasols were created to protect us from them. afterall, look at the size of the holes on that parasol above...can a bad golfer fit through one of those holes? i don't think so. bad golfers can't fit through the holes in a lace parasol...thus, the parasol is made to prevent bad golfers from reaching the other side of said parasol. that right there is enough proof to show everyone that i provide absolute correctness in everything that i rite.

now, these days, parasols aren't common to find. that seems kind of odd since the popularity of golf seems to have skyrocketed since the days where parasols were a common thing to see. i attribute this to the rise in intellect of bad golfers of today when compared to the bad golfers of yesterday. back when parasols were popular, bad golfers were easily repelled. however, if you were to try and use a parasol today, the bad golfer you were trying to repel would likely take a step to the side and come at you from a direction that the parasol isn't facing. situations like that make me curse the education system we have these days.

regardless of the rise in bad golfer intellect, there are still some people who are hanging on to the past....that's why you'll still find parasols at any golfing event. people are hoping to protect themselves from a potential bad golfer that weeded their way into a tournament. the parasols don't provide as much protection as they used to, but they're better than nothing in the defense against bad golfers.

with the number of bad golfers on the rise, since they've become bright enough to understand how to mate with one another, are parasols practical anymore? not really. but, there aren't currently any other types of protection against bad golfers...well, except maybe guns...but that type of bad golfer repellent could land you in prison where your fellow inmates might touch you in places that will make you scream out, "bad touch!" to the guards wandering around.

yeah, parasols don't help us much anymore...but it's all we've got. until we can invent something better, we should all be carrying them around...especially if we're often in big, open, grassy areas full of holes and flags. maybe one day, we'll be exposed to a magical item that will protect us from the torment of bad golfers....but until that day, i suppose we'll have to settle for protection below par.

i had a dream about the lion king the other day....why i had a dream about a cartoon i saw fifteen years ago is beyond me...however, in the dream, it was focused on the circle of life theme they seemed to have going throughout the film. when i awoke from my cartoon-filled slumber, the gears in my mind started to turn and all i could think about was the circle of life. we're born. we live. we die. that's not really a circle. that's like three quarters or a circle. afterall, when i'm dead, i can't really make a new baby pop out of me to complete the circle...and if you make a baby prior to death, it's not really a circle...it's more like a G.

that's why i've decided that the lion king isn't about lions at all. it's about aliens. aliens that have somehow gotten their eggs into the skins of the animals and have possesed their bodies, using it as a coccoon. this is the only explanation i can think of. the animals are born, they live and die, and then the coccooned alien hacks its way back out of the beast, thus giving 'birth' to a new being. now, that's a circle of life. the birth at the end really ties it all together.

the lion king is teaching children the incorrect way to draw a circle.

have you ever noticed that school violence has increased significantly since the lion king originally hit movie theaters? prior to the lion king, i don't recall ever hearing about a student bringing a machine gun to school and rolling barrels of gasoline down the hallways just so he could blow them up and feel like he was in a movie while murdering everyone. not once did i ever hear anything even close to that. and you know what pulled the trigger on those situations? what caused these students to grow angry and start shooting up the place? the lion king.

i don't think any of you know how difficult it is to go through school believing that you know how to draw a circle...and then getting laughed at when you draw three quarters of one and stop. that's like the equivalent of screaming up from the basement at your mom's house, demanding that she buy you some boo berry cereal only to find out after her shopping spree that she picked up frankenberry instead. imagine your disappointment...it's not your fault that you're stuck with terrible frankenberry when you clearly wanted boo berry...but you still feel terrible over it. then, the disappointment turns to anger and fury; you want the world to pay for this unforgivable mistake.

that scenario is pretty accurate in describing how these kids feel over how the lion king ruined their lives. drawing a circle isn't just something that you can re-learn. once you've got it down, it's permanent; you can't change it. if you've been taught wrong, there's nothing you can do. you'll never be able to draw a circle. ever. can you imagine that? being unable to write or do math because o's and zeros are circles and nobody will accept your three-quarter circles as either. it's enough to drive you to do some pretty drastic things...as we've all seen on the news.

the news blames video games, violent movies, and heavy metal songs. they're wrong. it's the lion king's fault. all of it. had the movie completed a circle like the theme song implied, then maybe we could have avoided all of this. since the lion king was released, school violence has gone up. it's a fact. since the kids who grew up watching the lion king entered the workforce, the united states of america has entered an economic crisis. that's also a fact. g.w. bush watches the lion king every night before his mother tucks him into bed and he has trouble spelling the word 'lamb'. that's a well known fact.

the evidence is clear. the lion king did it. the lion king not only caused the majority of us to lose brain cells, but it caused some of us to lose friends and family members when crazed people unable to make circles began to harm anyone in their way. afterall, hakuna matata may mean 'no worries' in the swahili language....but it's also latin for 'unable to draw circles, which makes me want to harm someone in a very unpleasant way.' those latins really knew how to pack meanings into words.

but anyway, i think i've made my point. that and i'm just plain bored of this subject...ever since i did the boo berry analogy, i've just wanted to go off and write about how great that stuff is....because it is. but anyway, that's all. i'm gonna go eat some boo berry -- it's frighteningly good!

i've noticed that mixed martial arts is gaining a lot of popularity these days...everyone seems to like it, so i figured i'd sit down, watch, and give 'er a shot. i was promised an original style of fighting...so, imagine my shock when i watched these mma matches and realized that this entire sport was copied move-for-move, rule-for-rule from another fighting promotion. it's true. and that promotion, my friends is nature....more specifically the areas of nature where lemurs reside.

oh, yes...lemurs are fighters. if they felt it would draw a good gate, lemurs would box their grandmothers. they're all about fighting and making money for it. it's true. i wish i could provide pictures of these lemur fights, but unfortunately, any photographer that has been able to capture these vicious lemur bouts has been spotted and later choked out by ultimate fighting lemurs. i'd go and take a picture myself...because i'm a very tough lad...but i'd end up humbling all of those lemurs with my mad fighting skills and i don't want to bruise their egos...plus, i'm not sure if they have sensitive shins for me to kick, so that leaves me without a strategy.

but anyway, i'm getting away from my point. while there are no known photos of lemurs and their mma bouts readily available, there is one photo captured of a baby lemur in training, which obviously proves that what i'm saying is absolute fact...



note the wee lemur grasping around the neck of the tiger...had that tiger been real, the baby lemur would be preventing the flow of blood to his victim's skull, which would render the creature unconscious...and, if the horrid little creature were to keep it on, it could cause permanent brain damage and/or death. that's right...these little critters can kill...even at this early stage in their lives.

you see, lemurs are like gladiators....from birth, they are taught how to fight. it's all they know, really. if you don't believe that statement, then ponder this: have you ever heard of a lemur being a school teacher? exactly. they can't teach because they're too busy fighting. once again, my logic is infallible.

anyway, i kinda lost my point there. the point is that these 'mixed martial arts' events aren't original at all...they're taken from nature. lemurs strike each other and choke each other out, too. and yes, they do it in a round system. they may be animals, but they're not savages.



lemurs have been competing in mixed-martial arts since the beginning of time. if you need any more proof of this than what i've supplied for you thus far, then think of it this way: have you ever heard of a lemur being the victim of a shark attack? of course not. the sharks know better...a fight with a lemur is a fight for your very own life.

so, i propose this right now...mma people versus the lemurs. put that event on ppv and i can guarantee that shortly after the event airs a peta-like group will form that will fight for human rights against the abuse that lemurs cause. it's a true story...well, i suppose it's not true yet since it hasn't happened. but trust me, if it did happen, i'd be correct. i'm always correct. i'm like a crazed clairvoyant....crazed over the factual truth of honesty that i'm providing you all.

lemurs are fighters. lemurs originated mixed martial arts. lemurs were trained at birth to kill you. lemurs will break off your fingers, dip them in ketchup, and eat them like french fries.....alright, maybe i made up the last one, but everything else is true. lemurs are dangerous...and if we don't start giving them credit for the sport they created, they may come after us...and if they do, it won't take long for humanity to tap out.

let's face it....chicks dig me, man. take today for example, i was taking a jog down the road and suddenly these two chicks come up to me. they soooooo wanted me. they were hitting on me and using innuendos and stuff. seriously. they were all like, "cluck, cluck, cluck." and i was all like, "stop hitting on me. you're not my type." and they were all, "cluck, cluck, buguck." and i was like, "no." it was pretty sweet.

i don't know what it is about me....but i'm a chick magnet. seriously, chicks follow me wherever i go....i go out to eat at a japanese restaraunt and suddenly, i look down at my plate and there's a perverted chick on my plate covered in teriaki sauce. i mean, teriaki sauce is nice and all....but good golly. there's a time and a place for things, you know.

and on the topic of restaurants, who does this col. sanders think he is, anyway? the dude is obviously a pimp....pimping out chicks to everyone. in the kfc logo, you can only see his head, but the rest of the picture actually shows him with a boa and fur coat. true story. but anyway, this so-called colonel always tries pimping out his chicks to me....telling me that it's affordable. that's disgusting and wrong. chicks aren't objects, dang it. they deserve respect and at least double the price you're asking for. give 'em some dignity, for cryin' out loud.

seriously, chicks love me....but it seems like only the perverted ones do. they're always bobbing their heads at me when they walk. it's like that quagmire fellow from family guy....he's a perv-o and he only bobs his head when he's being an ultra perv-o....



these chicks must be perv-o's, too. why are chicks like this, dang it? i'm not a bag of seed for them to drool over, dang it. i'm a man. i am a man, and i don't need to take this harassment...because that's what it is....i see those chicks looking at my butt. i cover my butt in clothing because i don't want 'em to see it...it's wrong!!

....i...i just don't know what to do anymore. these chicks won't leave me alone...and it's all because i tried using that axe bodyspray, too....well, that's getting tossed in the dumpster. i just want this torment to end...an army of chicks....and they all want me...



....some people might say i'm the luckiest guy in the world. i say it's a curse....a gosh, darn curse.....golly.

i often sit back and find myself wondering, "how much is that doggie in the window...and how much could i get for it on the black market?" now before people start getting their crackers in a ritz, let me explain...because i've already had an outburst when i made these thoughts of mine public. she knows who she is and what she's done...and she's responsible for this blog....all of it....except for the good parts, i'll take responsibility for those...but everything else is all her. that's her punishment for questioning my abundance of intellect.

anyway, back to dogs in the black market -- i think it's a fabulous idea. think about it, if a dog gets sold in the black market, where do you think it'll end up? hmmm? hmmm? a sweat shop, that's where. do i have any proof of this? well, no...but do you need to stick your face up an elephant's rectum for you to believe that they poo just like everyone else? nope, you just assume they do. well, i assume that dogs would end up in sweat shops...and i assume the truth.

now, sweat shops have gotten bad raps over the years with children working and such....but let me tell you this, buddy; our economy makes it hard to get a job and those little tykes have found employment...and they're learning early on to hate their bosses when said supervisors walk around and whip 'em, throw steaming hot potatoes at 'em, or whatever they do. anyway, i'll get right to the point. sweat shops can be good...especially in the case of dogs.

have you ever seen a dog sweat? i sure haven't. richard simmons taught me long ago that to be healthy, you have to sweat. sweating makes you physically fit and healthy and happy...and, again, i have never seen a dog sweat in my life. this means that all dogs are like walking towns of flab. how do we remedy this unfortunate situation? sweat shops, that's how. by selling dogs to the black market, we are giving them a future of health and well-being...and they'll have the satisfaction of knowing how to make designer shoes for a dollar an hour wage. that's a feeling they can't get anywhere else.

plus, let's not forget the vietnamese. they prowl the streets looking for dogs to eat all the time. if these dogs weren't off the streets and in those sweatshops, we'd be hearing about dogs that had been devoured all the time...plus, vietnamese folk have the ability to unhinge their jaws like a boa constrictor. if their jaw becomes unhinged near an unsuspecting dog, that's the end of ol' poochy. this vietnamese threat alone is enough to warrant us to sell dogs to the black market whenever we can.

on top of that, the population of homeless dogs is rapidly on the rise due to bob barker being unable to remind us to have our pets sprayed and tutored...or whatever he says...i never really paid attention to be honest. but anyway, the point i'm trying to make is that would you rather see a dog making an honest dollar in a sweat shop or see it sitting on the street corner singing songs and begging you to put some money in its sombrero?



the second option is out of the question to me...these dogs need to be in sweat shops, where an angry supervisor is yelling and spitting in their faces. it's like the military. these dogs will walk out of these sweat shops (if their legs are working) with self-confidence, pride, and a sense of discipline that they would have never gotten had they not been sold into the black market. plus, as mentioned before, they'll be avoiding the vietnamese. i mean, seriously, they're bloodthirsty dog eaters. take a look.



...look at that face and tell me that she doesn't want to unhinge her jaw and satisfy her ghoul-like apetite. tell me she doesn't and i will find something unpleasantly blunt to harm you with.

the fact of the matter is this, folks. these dogs are lazy, unhealthy creatures...being active and healthy is something that each and every one of us should be. it will improve our lives and make us happier. it will do the same to these dogs. by selling them to the black market so that they can be placed in sweatshops, we're not only improving their health and personality -- we're gonna be getting a LOT of money for it that we can spend on those robotic vacuum cleaners so we can sit around and do nothing all day when we should be cleaning. we're helping dogs and helping ourselves at the same time...and that's not wrong. that's so, so right.