Hello, everyone. This is not actually pastordan, but G. Watson Beagle writing. I have commandeered my "master's" computer to bring you a very
important message.
Pastor Dan Is Stoopid.
A comprehensive indictment in the extended text.
Before we get to core statement, allow me to establish my "bona fidos," as we say in the canine world. I have been a member of Pastor Dan and Mrs
Pastor's pack for almost five years now. Regrettably, they have not seen fit to recognize my true status: alpha dog. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Unlike Bob Johnson's "Rex," or that slobbering menace my natural subjugates call "Rusty," I am, as you can see, a cultured and good-spelling dog. I'm
quite handsome, too, if I do say so myself.
Heh.
I am also a Republican.
Woof.
In any event, I understand that certain posters on Daily Kos have seen fit to deride Pastor Dan as a liar and an ignoramus. I quite agree with these assessments. The preacherman is in dire need of a moronectomy. He's so stupid you could slap him and the stupid would come popping out of him like flecks of spittle ejected from Michelle Malkin's sainted lips. The man is stupid. A total tear-down job, as they say. Too dumb to live, too ugly to live.
And as for being a liar, well. The nerve of some people. Claiming to believe that God does not want all people to go to hell? I have my own problems with that statement, which we'll get to in just a moment, but let me say this now: clearly all "Christians" believe this. Clearly they believe in a God who is wrathful and eats babies for breakfast. Why, I just met a Christian the other day, as he was roasting an innocent tyke or two over an open spit - the scent was intoxicating, as their blood and fat guttered the flames - ahem, as he was doing this, he cried out "ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!" Now, I am not a believer, but that's a prayer to Christ if I ever heard one. Anyone who says otherwise is plainly lying.
But as idiotic as all this is, this is not why I think Pastor Dan Is Stoopid. I have never been one to take solace in the illusions of a bloodthirsty hummingbird god of the Ancient Israelites, though I have to admit, dressing his son up as a peacemaker and pulverizing people when they've been lulled into a sense of false security does wag my tail a bit.
But no, Pastor Dan would be merely stupid for believing in these things. What makes him truly Stoopid is that he fails to recognize me - G. Watson
Beagle - as his true Lord and Master.
Let me give you just a few examples, and then I'll open it up to questions.
- The poop issue. As I said above, I have been a member of Pastor Dan's pack for almost five years now. In that time, I have crapped on
his rug literally thousands of times. I relieve myself with impunity at all hours of the day and night, up to and including the Pastors' bed.
Yet, what have they done about it? They've never walloped me with a newspaper. They tried putting me in a crate while they were gone during the day, but I discovered how to get myself out of it - and up on the soft, comfortable couch in the process. They've tried walking me, only to discover to their horror that no matter how much business I do outside, I've always got more tucked away waiting for a special occasion.
When will they learn that I do this just for fun? They could put diapers on me - but they tried that with the spaniel, and he just peed right through them or shook his little garment off - or they could try to teach me to use the Big Boy Pottie. But no! They actually walk around the house with a plastic grocery sack, cleaning up after my messes and lamenting their sad fate!! Simpletons.
- Feeding. I have very simple demands. I wake up in the morning, and I want to eat: my food, and the spaniel's food. Then I like to take a crap in the living room, as explained above. How hard is this to understand? Yet Pastor Dan consistently hauls me away from Rusty's food dish by my collar, scolding me for trying to finish off the delicious, gravy-soaked pieces of kibble that pinhead spaniel has left behind. Sometimes, dinner is late! And last night, Pastor Dan had to go to the grocery store to get us more food, because he thought - erroneously - that there was more in the basement.
What a maroon.
And when he came back, it was with weight-loss formula. That's beyond stupid. That's audacious stupid.
- The Cats. I got my own back after the dinner debacle, though. The idjit was trying to take the three-year-old babysittee downstairs to see those sorry sacks of suck, the cats. He foolishly opened the door without securing his perimeter. In a flash, I was past man and kidlet and chasing pootie ass down the stairs. We ran around the bar a few times, and then I lovingly placed one of the sweet things in my mouth. Oh, the savoury taste of fur! Nectar beyond compare!
And then he had to pull me off and drag me back upstairs. What about "prey instinct" doesn't he understand?
Look, this should be easy: I see cat. I eat cat. Later, I poop cat out on bedroom carpet. Pootie see, pootie eat. Sometimes, I wrap a little up and FedEx it to Delaware Dem, who eats it with fava beans and a nice chianti. But noooo...This chump has some hang-up about "peace." "Respect all life," he says. "Don't eat the cats," he says. I ask you: what farking good is a cat, if not for eating?
- Speaking of Eating. What does a dog have to do to get some food around here? Seriously. And not that penny-ante kibble either! I'm talking steak and eggs! I'm hungry!! Feed me!!!!
It's gotten so bad, I've resorted to stealing cakes when the Pastors' backs are turned. And the nitwit just smiles...Keep smiling, dumbass. Your dinner is next.
Oh, I could on and on, but what's the use? I've demonstrated my case. Not only is this airhead an insufferable ass, he's a lying sack of crap. He keeps promising to take me for a walk, but does it ever happen? No! Time after time...I suppose the truly pathetic thing is that I keep falling for it. I even spin my svelte beagle butt in a complete 360 at the back door. But every time, I just wind up going out on my lead.
Pastor Dan couldn't get my dog leg going with a cattle prod. He's all scratching and petting my belly, saying "Go, dammit!" and nothing happens. Hah hah hah!
Woof.
How dumb is Pastor Dan? He's so dumb he thinks "bitches" refers to Ann Coulter and Michelle Malkin. Everybody knows it means Ann Coulter and Pam from Atlas Shrugs! How dumb is he? He so dumb he thinks half the bed belongs to him! How dumb is he? He's so dumb, he thinks religious progressives can make a difference in the world. Yeah, you keep praying to those magic sky fairies, Dan! Everyone knows I, G. Watson Beagle, am your dog god.
In conclusion, Pastor Dan is Stoopid, he smells bad, and nobody likes him. The only hope for him is to deliver to me, promptly, two cats, deep-fried, with a side order of small child.
Oh, and I'd like my testicles back, as well.
Woof.
Woof woof.