When I was living up in Northern Illinois, home of Chicago style hot dogs (no ketchup!), the original McDonalds and O’Hare International Airport (the “Irish rabbit”, as a friend of mine used to say), I had a neighbor who was an avid hunter/fisherman…he was also a bit of a horse’s ass as well, but that has no bearing on this story. His name was Hunter. (Okay, “Fisher” would have been funny too, but who the hell names their kid “Fisher”? That’s almost as bad as those people on that ‘50s sit-com that named their kid “Beaver”.)
Hunter the hunter had all the equipment…the shotguns, the camo outfits, the gun safe, the vibrating larchmont, the fly rods, the piston rods, the special lures, the deer urine (don’t ask), a horned scully and a three valve tuba.
The one thing he didn’t have was a good hunting dog.
Oh he and his wife had a dog; actually, it was her dog. A Chihuahua…his name was Chico. Any time someone rang their doorbell, Chico the Chihuahua would go into hysterics, begin barking frantically, heroically, then after a few minutes he’d turn and run across the room, lift his leg and pee on their sofa.
The only thing that kept Hunter the hunter from strangling Chico the Chihuahua was the fact that he knew his wife would make him sleep on the couch if he did, thus ending his access to his conjugal rights and forcing him to endure the smell of dog urine all night.
So Hunter the hunter decided, with his wife’s reluctant blessing, that he was going to get himself a hunting dog, a blue-ribbon retriever to accompany him on his forays into the wilderness in search of game.
He got the name of a breeder from a friend and called the guy to make an appointment to drive out to the man’s farm to see what he had. The Breeder Guy told him over the phone that he, BG, had all kinds of hunting dogs, in all different price ranges. Hunter said he would be out the next morning.
Next day he heads out to the Breeder Guy’s place, and the guy indeed had quite a number of four-legged hunters. He had Labradors, Goldens, Chesapeakes, pointers, you name it, if it dove in the water and retrieved a dead animal after you shot it, he had it.
He even had Jesus Retrievers.
What the hell is a Jesus Retriever? asked Hunter the hunter, when BG mentioned the name. Never heard of it.
Oh, says BG, rare breed. Excellent dogs, very smart, learn how to “hunt” quickly, they can be taught to point, retrieve, row the boat, recite poetry, and most amazing, they never get wet when they retrieve…they run across the top of the water.
Bullshit, says H the h.
Tell you what, says BG, I have a one-year old bitch here (Hunter says, yeah, I have one of those at home who’s 35) who is already trained…she knows hand signals, she’s smart as a whip, beautiful coat, she’s housebroken and speaks three languages. Lemme’ show you.
So he showed Hunter the Jesus Retriever bitch, and she was everything BG had said. Hunter loved her.
You write me a check says BG, post-date it 30 days, take her out next weekend (the first weekend of duck season) and if she doesn’t do what I’ve told you, you bring her back. If she does, call me and I’ll cash that check next month.
Hunter the hunter thought, shit, why not? So he did. (He named her Mary.)
So Hunter took Mary out duck-hunting the next weekend, and she was amazing, and yes, she ran right across the top of the water when she retrieved.
Now H the h had a buddy, a co-worker that was one of those “anything you have I have something better” types…if you had a fast car, he had one faster. If you had a great gun, his was better. If you could play The Minute Waltz in 59 seconds, he could play it in 57, and if you had an enormous “schawnzsthuka”, his was bigger.
Now Hunter the hunter is thinking he’s finally going to shut his buddy up once and for all…when he sees Mary the Jesus Retriever, he’s gonna’ flip.
So on Monday at work, Hunter mentions to the buddy that he has this new dog, amazing animal, and that Buddy has to see it. You’ve never seen a dog like this…best dog ever. Buddy says his Lab is the best and H the h says, no way, mine’s better.
They make plans to go out the following weekend so Buddy can see Mary work.
And they did…and she did. Right across the top of the water when Hunter brought down a duck.
Buddy doesn’t say a word, but a moment later, there goes another mallard, and Buddy turns, brings it down and, sure enough, there goes Mary the Jesus Retriever right across the water; the only thing that got wet were her paws and her stomach, just a little, from the splashing.
Whatta’ think of her, says Hunter the hunter, getting ready to gloat when Buddy had to eat crow for a change.
Buddy looks Hunter right in the eye and says, can’t swim, huh?
(Reader will insert rim-shot here.)
FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!
We interrupt this column to bring you a Breaking! News! Story! from the RUKME News Desk…
-Dateline Washington D. C.
*Trump IQ Tests Show Interesting Results*
In an exclusive story from the Washington Post today, in a response to an earlier inquiry from the newspaper, Ms. Laurel Enhardy, one of President Donald “Tweety Bird” Trump’s teachers at the prestigious New York Military Academy, where he attended school from the 6th through the 8th grades, was quoted as saying that, in results from a Stanford-Binet Intelligence Test, the President had an IQ level “that approximated room temperature”. When asked to elaborate, Ms. Enhardy said, “Donald Trump exhibited the IQ of a doorknob. We had to send another boy with him any time he went to the restroom to help so he wouldn’t catch his johnson in his zipper. He was dumber than a California Republican.” When asked by RUKME White House correspondent Warren Peace for a comment on the story, Press Secretary K. Lee McNinny responded, “President Trump has proven by his handling of the Covid-19 pandemic to be a ‘stable genius’, and Joe Biden is going to raise taxes on all American workers over the age of eight and will remove all wheat items from grocery stores.” When it was pointed out to Ms. McNinny that the minimum working age in almost every state is 16, she abruptly left the podium after giving Mr. Peace the finger.
More on this breaking story as it becomes available…
We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post.
Let’s talk about anthropomorphism…
The classic definition of the word is “the attribution of human characteristics or behavior to an animal or an object”, or in simpler terms, electing a moron like Donald Trump to the Presidency of the United States, thinking he was qualified for the position. Such “characteristics or behavior” might be further illustrated by what happened recently at the Lincolnshire Wildlife Park in Friskney England when five African gray parrots had to be removed from the 200 bird population of the main outdoor aviary because they wouldn’t stop “swearing” at visitors.
Apparently the little fuckers, err, excuse me, the birds were encouraging each other to use “naughty language” and were telling guests to “fuck off”, “blow me” and “go to America and vote Republican” as well as using other terms of profanity. Zoo keepers said the air around the aviary was “blue” with the language and although visitors didn’t seem offended by what they were hearing from the birds, in an effort not to “ruffle any feathers” among the children that are frequent guests, the five offending (offensive) birds, Billy, Eric, Tyson, Jade and Elsie were moved to a different shelter.
After a brief obscenity trial was held in a local court, a verdict of guilty was reached and the birds were then taken out and hung. When asked if they had any last words before sentence was carried out, Tyson, who was the most vocal of the group, cried out, “Give me liberty or fucking give me death, you assholes.” He refused a blindfold and then smoked his last cigarette, just prior to his death.
It has become increasingly clear recently from news reports and stories that there seems to be a concentrated effort being made by members of the animal kingdom to “take over” the human world for nefarious gain, with reports of grinning dogs, and elephants that play jump-rope, skateboarding chimps and shoplifting gulls.
As the Head Pope of the Roving Spastic Church, I want to assure my followers and potential converts to our faith that we, as a Church with a pizza-based dogma, refute and oppose anthropomorphism in all forms, and will continue to resist this insidious attempt by the animal kingdom to subvert and slowly take control of human minds by their actions and deeds.
Do not take this threat lightly…today it’s swearing parrots trying to corrupt citizens with their vulgarities and profanities, tomorrow it will be humans who have been taken over by these furry and feathered fiends, to do the bidding of these bestial interlopers while more of us are being compromised by their animal propaganda and lies.
I stand fore-square against animal rule and domination, and I will continue to urge and to lead my people to resist all attempts to be brainwashed. (Except for being a sucker for puppies…I like puppies.)
Spastics! Believe in your Church! Trust your Faith! Stand tall against the oppressors! Fight the aggression from the animal kingdom!
And please, for god’s sake, let’s not return a guy with the intellectual capacity of a domestic cow to the White House.
Because that’s the most idiotic idea I’ve ever heard.
Hell, Mary the Jesus Retriever is smarter than that.
Love and pet stores,