There’s no rule saying dogs can’t play Jegna. That’s a no-brainer. The instruction manual would’ve said something about it otherwise. However, I’m pretty sure there’s an unspoken rule about playing with your mouth. You see, I figured the dog was playing so well because he used his canines to grab the blocks. I wanted to give this strategy a try in my next game. But when I tried it at last night’s party, everyone else kicked me out of the match and kept me away from the bar. Thus, I’m pretty sure it’s unacceptable for dogs to use their mouths to play Jenga. I also think dogs aren’t allowed to drink, either.
Cute and delicious. It’s a shame that pigs are made of bacon, otherwise I’d have no reason to eat something that starts off so adorable. They’d be like dogs, but bigger and meaner. You wouldn’t eat a puppy, and you wouldn’t eat a full-grown dog, but you would most certainly eat a pig. At least, I know that most of my readers wouldn’t be interested in eating a dog. It really is a shame that they’re made of food.
Every once in a while, the Blog For Boys has to do something to keep up the appearance that we’re a reputable site that’s suitable for viewing by most humans. We must dispel any notion that we’re secretly trying to control your mind with subliminal messages embedded in the text. Be sure todrink your ovaltine. One of the best ways to keep things on the straight and narrow, is to pay a cat tax to the Intertunnel gods. We’ve sunk to the lowest common denominator to make sure that things run smoothly over here at the Blog for Boys headquarters. Here’s a video of a cat having a religious experience — probably because he drank his Ovaltine.
I wish someone would throw tacos at me. Pets are treated like royalty these days. When was the last time someone threw a slice of pizza at you? Probably hasn’t happened, but this dog is getting delicious food thrown at him every day. Why do we stand for such injustice? Why have we formed an organization to protect animals, but not an organization to protect delicious food? As god as my witness, I’m going to found People for the Ethical Treatment of Hamburgers as soon as I can be bothered to get out of bed.
He’s giving that dog people food, and that really grinds my gears. Before you know it, the dog will be sitting on the couch, watching TV, getting hair everywhere, and making an absolute mess because he thinks he’s a person. Outrageous. People get people food, and dogs get dog food; that’s the way it’s always been and always should be. On occasion you can throw your dog what’s left of a massive t-bone steak, so you can feel like the king of a medieval domain, feeding your noble hunting dogs with table scraps when you run out of slow-moving peasants. Other than that, no people food.
What I’m really trying to get at, is that you shouldn’t be throwing perfectly good food away like that. You should be giving it to me. I’m so much better than a dog. Dogs can’t thank you after eating all your food. Dogs can’t fix your toilet in return for croissants. A dog can’t sit in their bathrobe and stink up your living room while eating soup out of a mason jar. I can do all of that — and I won’t poop on your carpet.