Today

Out of sheer boredom, I'm trying to make heads or tails of this Republican Presidential thing.

You've got these fat, old, white humans parading around and pretending to be different from each other - when in fact, they all bark the same thing. They all blame the same people, want to take away the same rights (listen, I'm not even a protected class, just ask about that operation when I was 2). They all weep at the same platitudes, and nod and stare blankly at the same recitations. Somebody ought to feed them bone meal, it does wonders for me.

Trudy seems to think there's some difference. But she can tell the difference between vermillion and periwinkle. I'm a dog. She won't mention Buchanan's name, she laughs whenever she sees Dole, and she calls Forbes "Junior" because she says she knew his dad. They all look like kibble to me. Or is it bits.

How could a canine take these clowns seriously? Bob Dole has the leadership skills of a poodle (Ed Meese?), and Buchanan the political skills of a rawhide chew. (Trudy won't let me have those, they affect me digestion.) Forbes, well, he never blinks and you can't trust a human who can't blink, not to mention he can't even lick himself. The rest of the idiot pack all get lost in a cloud of self-righteous, neo-suburban televangelism. The whole thing really taxes my vocabulary and gives me gas.

It's all I can do to stop barking myself. But at least the convention ought to be a big time-waste. Let's see how many people they can turn off this time! And the wigs! Trudy loves it.

Hmm. If I were a human living in the United States, I'd think it was a pretty shitty system.

Speaking of which ...

Bowel Report
A bit embarrassing actually. I seem to be leaving small gifts without even knowing it. Later upon discovery, well let's just say it's better to give than to receive.