Has nobody ever founded an international hanging-out organization that called itself The Good Times Gang? Why in the fuck not? What’s wrong with us as a society?
Just gonna put this dude in a giant sugar cone and deliver him to all the sad kids in the world, one smile at a time. It might take a while, but that’s what’s gotta happen. I’ve found my calling.
“The price of freedom is eternal vigilance” is really supposed to be more of a lofty metaphor, there, guy. I’m just sayin’.
I know you don’t want to do it. I know. But we have to face facts, okay? The fact is that Miracle Day was awful. I’m sorry, but it was. I know.
I guess that was just one fact. C’mon, let’s go watch Children of Earth again and forget I ever said anything. ‘Kay?
What’s going on, General Doggington? Did we leave someone back at the forward operating base? We did? Oh, fuck.
Everybody can relax, I found the picture that goes next to the textbook definition of “good dog.”
Authorities arrived onscene to discover the entire neighborhood’s population essentially prostrate on the sidewalk in a radial pattern with this dog at its center, gesticulating feebly or in some cases completely catatonic. “It was like that one Radiohead video,” an onlooker was reported to have observed just moments before succumbing.
Fuck the ancient wisdom. If you meet the Buddha on the road, pat his damn head. The hell’s wrong with you?
Dogs like this installed at two or three-block intervals throughout a city might prevent a lot of crime from happening due to a population-wide increase in hugs. It’s called urban planning, people.
Much as we’d like to, we can’t really do this anytime we’re in line behind someone who can’t seem to make up their damn mind at a Wendy’s. Advantage: dogs.