Archive 01/29/09 - (1)

   

Paws Down

                                                                         

As for me, as a majority of one,

I couldn't give a flaming shit in the caves of hell,

One way or a dozen other, even if my life depended from it.

 

And yet, it sure seems to be getting big play, these days,

When people are getting laid off, like termites and beavers,

For eating away at the nation's floorboards and forests,

 

And getting foreclosed out of their third- and fourth-mortgaged chalets

And debiting out their credit cards, to buy the groceries,

Passing on their meds, since food's a whole lot easier to swallow.

 

What the fuck is he talking about? I'm sure you're thinking.

It's those bastard pets (I hate cats worse than dogs,

And God knows, dogs shed and stink and shit up man's best castle).

 

Just the other day, I read a bite-size snippet, in the local rag,

That flummoxed the nutmeg right out of my meganuts —

I'm talking dumber than dumbed-down Dumbo for Dummies:

 

In 2007, forty-two million homes in the U.S. owned a dog,

And thirty-seven million in the American Dream had a cat.

(I wonder how in the hell many houses have both together, combined?)

 

Worse, people see these filthy critters as substitute children

(What, I wonder, do children see them as? Substitute parents?

What do the pets see the parents and kids as? Substitute assholes?),

 

And up until our present time's flea-bitten hairball economy,

They have, on average, forked out, to vets and other quacks,

$356 bucks a year, on fucked-up mutts, $196, for sick kitties.

 

Not now! Would you choose your pussy or bitch, over yourself?

And that's the rub: it's my way and the highway, for Fido and Fluffy,

And that way is either you're dead meat or I don't eat.

 

The bite-size went on to say that all these cash-strapped owners

Are suffering big-time guilt, for sending their vermin to Auschwitz,

Joining pet-loss support groups, for free shrink treatment.

 

As for me, I don't see the current turndown as bad, in this case,

Especially if it helps people straighten their bent-out-of-shape priorities,

Remember who's man's best friend — it's man, paws down!

 

 

 

 

01/29/09 - (1)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
       

 

 
   
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