Hey there, freedom lovers!  I’m back from a trip to the Dog Birch Society conference, the annual powwow for freedom-loving, terrorist-hating canines from all around.  We had a presentation on how to sniff out and attack Democrats and terrorists (Squirrels? Terrorists! Hackey sack players? Democrats and Terrorists!).  The conference was somewhat marred by a Welsh Corgi who wouldn’t stop his sinful humping of other male dogs, so we had to cast him out.  Every vigorous little thrust from that guy hurt this country a little bit. 

Know what else we discussed?  Did you know the Democrat nominee doesn’t even own a dog?  He’s apparently not a cat person either, so he may not be the devil.  But no dog?  That’s pretty close.  John McCain (did you know he was a POW?), meanwhile, has four dogs, adorably named Lucy, Desi, Sam, and Coco.   So by my calculations, that makes McCain seventeen million hundred percent more America-loving than that other guy. 

Need proof that dog-loving equals America-loving? 

Nixon: hated Commies, hippies, and Democrats.  Loved Checkers.  Loved America.

Heston and his pooch, Quimby.

Heston: loved guns, Moses, guns, shooting guns, and Quimby.  Loved America.

Reagan and Rex.

Reagan: Loved ketchup, tax cuts, and his dog, Rex. Hated commies. Loved America.

Clinton and Buddy.

Clinton: loved elitism, tax increases, and socialized health care.  And Buddy, well, Buddy mysteriously was hit by a car.  And thanks to a deep-pocketed pal of mine (who loves his own dog!), we’re starting a massive right-paw conspiracy to get to the bottom of this. 

So there you have it, Americans!  Vote this November for dog and country.

Everyone’s waiting for Obama to text us his VP pick. I have my telegraph machine ready for when McCain announces his pick.

I dearly hope McCain is wise enough to pick Barney, George W. Bush’s Scottish Terrier. He has sniffed the ass of many powerful Republicans. (Note: Cheney never changes his underwear.) We all know, and we’re all very pleased, that the end of the Bush presidency will not be the end of the Bush presidency. Tricky Dick Cheney will continue to be the attack dog, while Barney fronts. Upon McCain’s prearranged death, Barney will step forward as the Manchurian Candidate and become leader of the free world!

Should McCain opt out of his own death, there’s always Representative Tom Tancredo. He’s a dog hero, a lover of freedom and hater of tacos, burritos and all other Mexican food that makes me bloated and gassy. He stood up to the authorities when “Dog the Bounty Hunter” was about to be extradited to Mexico on charges of bounty hunting. For those not hip to the dogosphere, “Dog” is The One to Republican pups like “Obama” is The One to Democrat pups. It’s every dog’s dream to be a bounty hunter and hunt down the bad guys. It’s what we’re bred to do. I would go to the gates of hell to hunt down Osama bin Laden… or to get my squeaky noodle-doodle toy. Hey, it may not be legal to bounty hunt in Mexico, but it is the good ol’ USA. There’s no way Americans or their dogs should be held to other countries’ laws, and Tom Tancredo understands that. Moreover, Tancredo would make for darn sure that no Mexican flea-ridden, stray dogs get through our high-tech fence into America.

My colleague of ill-repute, Barley Boo — he had the affair with Rielle Hunter, too — wrote about underdogs for Obama’s VP pick. Here’s my underdog for McCain: Duane Chapman, “Dog the Bounty Hunter” himself. Think about it. All dogs are interested in national security, and this guy is gonna go out and get the worst of the worst. Putin, Chavez, Mugabe, bin Laden, Socks the Cat. He will keep dogs safe, so choose him, Mr. McCain.

Look, Democrats hate America. It’s a well known fact. Mainly, they hate our freedom. I think they also hate apple pie. And probably mom, too. I love apple pie. It’s so delicious. I love all pies. Pumpkin, mincemeat, cherry, pot, shepard’s, rhubarb. You name it, I’ll eat it. And I’ll love it. And I’ll lick the pan and push it around the room with my nose to get every last morsel. And then I’ll look for more pie and if I find one, consume that one in the same manner. Hell, I’ll eat pie ’til I burst, if I can find enough pies. I don’t care if it’s not good for me. Self control is for sissies. And poodles. Usually I just get some scraps of pie at Thanksgiving, though. Nuts to that!

Democrats would be disgusted by my bacchanalian pie eating orgy. “Oh, no!,” they’d say, “slow down, we don’t have enough pie, let’s save some for tomorrow, don’t eat it all at once, let’s conserve that pie–ouch! Don’t bite me!”

If I could talk, I’d say, “Quit hating my freedom, Democrat! I’m free to eat as much pie as I want, and that’s what’s great about the U-S-A!” I’d probably have to say it in French so they understood. I can’t talk though, so I’d bark and maybe bite an ankle or a forearm. That’d show the freedom haters what America’s about.

It’s the same thing with this whole oil thing. Sure, I don’t drive, but my owners do. I need that car to run so I can stick my head out of it. I need it so my owners can go buy me more dog food and food to make pies. But Democrats want to take that car away from us and make us ride a bike even though I think I’m too big to fit in a basket. Meanwhile, heroic Republicans are fighting to protect America by pushing for more digging. Because they love America. Some of these heroes are even staying in Washington, DC and giving up their August recesses to stay in the darkened House chamber and yell about the need for more digging. That’s sacrifice. Here, they could be home in their districts, spending quality time with the wife and kids, going to spaghetti dinners at the local rotary club, walking around in the August sun shaking sweaty hands and pretending to smile all day long, but instead they’ve chosen to protect America from Democrats.

I’m a dog. I know digging. I dig all the time. And you know what? I find awesome stuff. Last week I found a half-buried deer carcass when I was digging. The week before that: an old tennis ball. I know, I couldn’t believe someone left it in the dirt either. But that’s the thing: you put a little effort into digging, and bingo, you’ve got a treasure. The Republicans want to dig because they know there’s great stuff out there for us to find. And because they love America.

They want to dig at the beach. I love digging at the beach. That sand really flies when you get after it. When my owners took me to the beach, I dug around for a bit and found some dead fish. I rolled and rolled in that dead fish until I was covered in its fragrance. Smelling like dead fish is what America’s all about. So let’s dig at the beach. We’ll find great stuff, I just know it.

And Pennsylvania?

And New Mexico?

And Florida?

Why are you dogs not voting? As I study the Doggie Electoral Map, I am fascinated by the early returns of the 2008 presidential election. Or, rather, the lack thereof in many of the key battleground states. If you are from one of the states where a dog has yet to cast a ballot, YOUR ONE VOTE WILL CARRY THE ENTIRE STATE. Yes, you, Chihuahua in California, could bring home a whopping 55 ELECTORAL VOTES for your candidate at this point in the race. I promise I’m not just advising this because my man McCain is down in the vote count right now (although all you Mutts for McCain better get on the ball soon!)

It’s crazy, and this opportunity won’t last forever. I advise any politically-leaning puppy-dogs out there to follow Al Capone’s sage advice: Vote early. Vote often.

Let’s Bark the Vote!

The frenzy over The New Yorker cover depicting Barack Obama as a Muslim got me thinking about discrimination. Not black v. white, or Christian v. Muslim, rather human v. dog.

The New Yorker cover was good satire. It’s also satirical when I do the “terrorist fist jab” (as coined by Fox News) with my dog friends. Am I a terrorist because I’m being ironic and bark “Allah u akbar” as I fist bump? No. But some dense, middle-aged white woman at the dog park might think I am. Especially if a Fox News anchor discerns that I have terrorist tendencies because of my species. That’s species profiling.

Watching me fist bump, moreover, one gets the impression that I might be gay. I’m a little limp-wristed. When I try to jump up on a human, for instance, my gangly legs bend at the wrist and I look kind of like a praying mantis. I’ve heard - from human and dog alike - some pretty rich language to describe my sexuality. Please. I had my testes cut off when I was five months old. I pee like a girl. I’m asexual, really. I reserve my humping for one dog and one dog only, my friend Tucker. But it has nothing to do with sex. Humans need to stop making false assumptions about dog sexuality based on whom we hump. When they giggle and call us names at the dog park, all I can think is that hate language is discrimination.

Then there’s the Breed Specific Legislation issue that is purely discriminatory. Drinking fountains for whites-only, anybody? Last week I tried to go to a concert in St. Paul with my pit bull friend, Chiquita. We wanted to see our cat-friend’s owner’s rock band, His Mischief. I’m a fluffy golden doodle, and I’m more ferocious than my lazy pit bull compatriot. But we weren’t allowed in. Chiquita’s breed, like Obama’s supposed creed, mattered more than the content of her character.

Stop the Doggie discrimination is all I’m sayin’.

The Dog Vote

“If the presidential election goes to the dogs, John McCain is looking like best in show.”

So goes a recent Associated Press article, which stated that dog owners favored McCain over Barack Obama by a 43 to 34 point margin.

Right now I’m going to vent about The Dog Vote’s lack of preparedness. To be honest, I hadn’t heard of the Associated Press before I got the article forwarded to me by super-left wing vegan dog blogger, Chiquita.

The Associated Press? I looked on their website and they’re just a co-op of human journalists. Humans?!? We have our own metric for tracking dog presidential preferences that we were going to announce a day or two after the AP story, but humans got the scoop. I’m going to release the hounds on you, Randolph E. Schmid, Associated Press Writer.

Our plan is to have the dogs vote through the purchase of a bandana. What’s more democratic-capatalist than that? We will track state-by-state sales and show the leaders on the Doggie Electoral Map, now available on the right sidebar of my blog.

I’ve got a story for you, Randolph E. Schmidt. According to the Doggie Electoral Map, Obama has an early lead on McCain. I’m waiting for when your co-op of human journalists looks to The Dog Vote for their lead story!

After surveying the results of The Dog Vote thus far, I feel called to action. I am compelled to explain to the politicians, bloggers, Wolf Blitzer, my owners, the pug at the dog park wearing an Obama bandana and, of course, the rest of my fellow dogs, why exactly I am a Mutt for McCain.

I grew up in humble surroundings, you see. Unlike Leona Helmsey’s dog Trouble (whose mammoth inheritance continues to astound me), I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth. My mom got knocked up underneath the high school stadium and, before you know it, my brothers and sisters and I were all on our own. I won’t go into details about the trouble I got in to during my early years, but suffice it to say I was pretty down-and-out. Scrounging through garbage cans, hanging out with dogs from the wrong side of the tracks, never knowing where I would lay my head each night.

But you know what? I turned my life around and did it all on my own. I got myself adopted by a real nice family that takes me to the dog park every day. I earn my keep by barking at the dogs walking down the street, and I live a pretty good life. It’s nothing flashy, but I pulled myself up from my bootstraps (er, collar) and earned it. I believe in hard work, personal responsibility and individual rights. And besides, I heard John McCain will appoint loyal pets to his cabinet positions.

Peace. Prosperity. Mutts for McCain.

I was pretty stoked when I heard about The Dog Vote. I’ve been an activist for the Dogs Suffrage movement for nearly four dog years now and I haven’t had a lot of luck making progress with homo sapiens. So when I saw a link and a little description of the website on DogBook last week, I thought: Finally. A place where dogs like me can have a bark in the world of politics.

What I found was something else altogether. What I found was just another mainstream site trying to shove the two party system down my throat. There, featured prominently on the site, were Barack Obama and John McCain. Okay, I thought, fine. These are the two leading candidates right now. Maybe I just need to look around to find the complete debate. And so I looked. And looked. And was appalled. I found a poll listing seven political pundits and a “preference for dirty socks” option, but only two presidential candidates are mentioned on the site. Only two options for dog bandanas.

Did you think, because we’re dogs, that we are unable to comprehend the Libertarian Party? Did you think because we don’t have fingers for easy typing we’d somehow miss the grassroots campaign of the Ron Paul Revolution? Well, I have news for you—we didn’t. Among canines, Ron Paul is quite popular.

I am aware of the fact that Ron Paul dropped out of the race for presidency this upcoming term. Can The Dog Vote alone be blamed for his demise? No, probably not. But The Dog Vote is perpetuating a trend that isn’t going to fly in the dog world. So here’s your wake up call: If you truly want to help the cause of dogs everywhere, or even if you just want to avoid a dogcott, you will need to find space for Ron Paul on your website. I like sniffing ass as much as the next bitch, but you’ve got your head stuck in a little too far and it’s time you got it out of there.

-Dora
Labradoodle
Burnsville, MN

Try explaining the intersection of governance and “Web 2.0″ to my neighbors’ 11-year old golden retriever. Ask him - with a snausage as a reward for a good answer - how are blogs, email, Twitter and YouTube changing popular participation in politics?

Why does it matter that an 11-year old golden retriever couldn’t answer such a question? Because it’s like a 72-year old presidential candidate who can’t answer that question. (See the dog year to human year graph.)

John McCain has admitted that he doesn’t know how to use a computer. “I’m an illiterate that has to rely on my wife for all the assistance I can get.” That’s more laughable than when Bush said he occasionally uses “the Google” to look up his ranch on a map.

The internet has politically empowered dogs in first-world countries whose owners have enough disposable income to feed them and buy them computers and internet service. Here’s the rub: most dogs under 5-years old use the internet as their primary means of communication. (Who needs the dog park when you have dogster.com?) McCain will not win many of their votes.

UPDATE: Proof-positive that there are dogs in the world with more computer knowledge than McCain: “On the internet, nobody knows you’re a blog.”

There’s been excessive talk of Barack Obama’s diet in this election. Covering his tail for citing the price of arugula among corn-fed Iowans, he was forced to coyly reveal that he ate pot roast and jello as a kid in Kansas. We saw him down waffles and pancakes campaigning in Pennsylvania.

None of this meant a whole lot to dogs. Then my owner had “The View” on the other day with guest host Michelle Obama. I was dozing off during the “Best of Breakfast” segment. Michelle asked something about pomegranate juice, and I was zzzzz….

“We’re bacon people.” What? Bacon.

The ladies of The View were talking about my favorite breakfast food. It kept kept flashing on the screen, teasing me.

“Does Obama eat bacon?” “He’ll eat bacon,” Michelle replied. He’ll eat bacon.

And just like that, the candidate’s diet has become a relevant issue for dogs. The dogosphere is buzzing about Barack’s love for our most holy meal. Does that make him more appealing to the dog vote? We’ll poll it and find out.