My pal, Lamont, gets kicked out of the dog park
August 15, 2013
Lamont, I told you, pal, if you didn't reform and cease beating up other mutts in the dog park it was not going to end well for you, buddy.
I know, I know, that over-bred, snooty canine equivalent of a Goldman Sachs-country-club-enemy-of-the-people clearly deserved it for being, well, just for being. Which seemed to be your sole point for, unprovoked, grabbing him by the throat and sucker punching him, sending him fleeing with a high pitched squeal and then sulking in embarrassment for being fully exposed, outed, and humiliated as the vacuous wimp he is.
Not to mention he was prancing around full of himself, annoying the hell out of the both of us with that ridiculous, expensive haircut which probably cost more than you did to accomplish your riotous egress from the fetid Mexican trash dump from whence you came.
Let us not even get into the airhead, overdressed, probably coupon clipping, make-up slathered "woman" and her clearly closeted, cuckolded, designer clothed "boyfriend" who were the guardians of the inbred canine.
After the revolution, they will be dealt with.
I am fully with you on these matters, pal.
But the fact is we got kicked out of the dog park.
I am going to have to do some serious schmoozing and muster up my diplomatic A game as a result of your philosophically correct but entirely misguided antics a few moments ago.
I am not particularly known for excelling at tact to avoid offending others, either, pal. So I get it. Especially in situations where I feel soiled to engage skills requiring smarmy smoothness, insincerity and outright bald misrepresentation of my true feelings as a way to attain one's own tactical ends and avoid any unpleasantness or–as in the case of this particular kerfuffle–outright hostility, as a tool of expediency or prudence in an effort to not antagonize those who exactly deserve to be antogonized, in order to protect one's own strategic interests.
Because it was the second time you beat up the mutt, the decidedly dirty looks and scowls directed at exactly you and me together, pal–because we are a team, as you have hopefully noticed–forced us both to put our tails between our legs and take the long walk of shame out of the dog park towards home.
As you know Lamont, pal, this is only the latest in the long line, the very, very alarming to some long line, of mutts you have similarly vented your entirely understandable, legitimate disapproval towards.
We will figure it out. Don't worry pal. We will be back at the dog park.
But remember what Mao said: "The canine guerrilla must move amongst the dogs as a fish swims in the sea."
And even that idiot Kissinger said "The conventional army loses if it does not win. The guerrilla wins if he does not lose."
Today, it could be reasonably argued, we, sorta, lost.
But, let's look at it as the battle of Hue at Tet in '68. We might have lost the battle, but the war is ours–mine and yours pal–to win.
And you are still an excellent, very good boy. So extra cookies for you, regardless, for being a mutt of stubborn principle. ■