Somebody told me recently they don’t take the links at this site. Don’t do that this time. Actually, you shouldn’t ever do that. Links are a huge part of what I’ve always done. I wouldn’t point and say read the whole thing if I didn’t mean it. Part of the reason I’m sitting in a corner in the Pine Barrens. There are no shortcuts in thinking, no easy bottom lines, no chutes and ladders to the obvious right answers. If you don’t understand this, you don’t understand me.
I’m not going to tell you what these links are about. They just are:
Where were we? Oh. Something lighter. America’s premier dog show, which concluded last night. I’m sure a lot of you missed it, what with all the excitement about the resuscitation of the Stalinist era in Russia being celebrated by NBC on one-and-a-half or two channels of Comcast’s new show dog news network for the 99 percent, including MSNBC. So I took the liberty of acquiring some erudite quotes about the event, which are always much much better than encountering the event itself. No links, though. Who needs them? The words are all you need if you’ve got your mind right.
“Anybody else catch that dog action in one-percent land last night? Seven dogs competing for Best in Show. Not one whose origins aren’t associated with white, imperialist, racist, homophobic powers. Germany, France, Portugal, Ireland, Wales, and, of course, England. How dead white European male can you get?”
“Where was the dingo? The African Wild Dog? The scarred up Urban Pit Bull? Why do they all have to be so Upper East Side. Speaking for myself, I’m disgusted.”
“I didn’t feel any suspense about the outcome. Five of the seven finalists were brown or mostly so: the bloodhound, corgi, Irish water spaniel, Portuguese Water Dog, and Miniature Pinscher. Then there was the French poodle, obviously gay as can be and an obvious loser in this context. The inevitable winner? The vicious, racist little prick of an English breed that has already won more than any other: the Wire Haired Fox Terrier. Mostly white but always pure killer.”
“Is it just me or is there some kind of horrifying irony about yet another win by a breed whose whole purpose in life was to support the Brits’ mindlessly cruel genocide of foxes? What victim has ever been pursued by more outlandishly overmatched forces? Dozens of uniformed men and women mounted on 1200 pound horses, accompanied by packs of their specially bred dogs, to run to ground one brown colored fugitive? Oh. Now I remember. The pursuit of runaway slaves. And we are still elevating this shameful past and bestowing laurels upon it? When will we come to our senses?”
“Did you see the “champion” standing there in his shrunken but puffed up pomposity? He is carrying the DNA of the criminal imperialist past in his every pore. I shouldn’t say this, I suppose, but I yearned for some PETA activist to run into the arena and put him down on the spot. How surprised and shocked the little bitch would have been. He might have had a last moment of recognition of the foul legacy of his founding. I’m reminded of the old saying, “Every dog has his day.” I haven’t had mine yet, but neither have the foxes. We’re both waiting.”
That’s enough for now. For the sake of the squeamish, I’ve left out all the hundreds of quotes and tweets that used the words f**k, m*****f****r, c**t, a**hole, d*****bag, etc. I’m sure you know how they go. The way the enlightened, tolerant members of our most gifted elites refer to the rest of us mongrel scum.