“Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read.”
Groucho Marx
____________________________
Pets are funny for a couple of reasons: first because they behave like humans, and second because they DON’T behave like humans.
We laugh with recognition when a beloved pet tries to “use” the computer, or shows an “almost human” awareness. On the other hand, it also amuses us to see how little a canary cares about money, or how a cat spills water on electronics. (I'll tell you all about it later.)
I haven’t the statistics on tap, but seems pretty obvious that where many animals were originally domesticated to work for humans, those jobs are mostly done by machines today. Those domesticated animals are mostly kept as pets.
Yes, that’s right, animals were thrown out of work by automation.
The life of the wild animal versus the pet is particularly important to moralists and to folks like the people of PETA.
Wild animals need to hunt for every meal and a safe place to sleep. Pets are well fed and have a warm place to sleep (unless they’re fish, in which case they don’t want a warm place, and may not even sleep—I’m not sure.)
Wild animals are always in fear of whatever animal is higher up on the food chain. Pets don’t have to worry about predators—but on the other hand, they are frequently spay or neutered.
Let’s call it a wash.
____________________________________
After some thought, a woman selected a parrot from the pet store. The pet store owner warned the woman that she was not the parrot’s first owner. He’d been kept for years by a navy man, and had learned some bad habits. Bluntly, the parrot swore, well, like a sailor.
Despite this warning, the woman brought Polly home.
Within an hour, the mail carrier came, delivering the post. The woman brought out Polly to meet the mail man.
“#$@@!” said the parrot.
The postman smiled, and left quickly.
“Now, Polly, that wasn’t nice,” said the woman. “You mustn’t talk like that.”
Later that day, a neighbor appeared at the door to borrow a cup of sugar.
“#$@%!” said the parrot.
The neighbor gasped, dropped her measuring cup, and fled.
“Polly, I don’t want to have to warn you again,” said the woman. “Nice birds don’t speak that way. Now, the pastor is coming to visit this evening…if you don’t mind your language, I’ll have to punish you!”
That evening, the pastor comes by. He rings the doorbell, and the parrot shouts out:
“#&^@!!!” said the parrot.
Well, that was it. The woman apologized to the pastor, grabbed the parrot, shoved it into the freezer and slammed the door shut behind the bird.
After about ten minutes, a timid knocking came on the door of the freezer. The woman opened the freezer door and found the parrot, shivering and dispirited, standing in there.
“I’m sorry I spoke the way I did,” said the parrot.
“Well, you should be,” said the woman.
“If I promise never to speak that way again, will you let me out?” asked the bird.
“Yes,” said the woman.
“Okay,” said the bird. “I promise.” The parrot hopped out of the cage and onto the woman’s shoulder.
The parrot stood silently for a few minutes. Then he cleared his throat.
“I understand why you locked me in the freezer,” said the bird.
“You left me no choice,” said the woman.
“I know,” said the parrot. “I’ve just got one question: What did the chicken do?”
_________________________________
An elderly lady was walking down the beach one day, when she found a bottle. She rubbed the bottle, and a genie emerged.
“Thank you for freeing me,” said the genie. “You know, as a thank you, you get three wishes.”
“Three wishes, really?” said the old woman delightedly (she had apparently read very few fairy tales). “All right, my first wish: I wish I were young and beautiful again.”
The genie clapped his hands, and in a flash, the old woman was once again 23 years old, and she was absolutely ravishing.
“Second,’ said the woman. ‘I wish that I was fabulously wealthy.”
The genie clapped his hands, and in a flash, the woman has become the weathiest woman in the world.
“Third,” says the woman, “I want Tommy-boy, my beloved cat, to be turned into a handsome young man who is wildly in love with me.”
The genie claps his hands, and in a flash the woman’s spoiled Persian has been turned into a tall, handsome young man. The young man grabs the woman in his arms and kisses her passionately. Then, holding her faces inches from her own, he murmers: “Darling! Aren’t you sorry now you had me fixed?”
Showing posts with label dog jokes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dog jokes. Show all posts
Monday, October 4, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
D is for Dog
Q; What do you get when you cross a Malamute with a Pointer?
A: I suppose it’s a Moot Point, but it doesn’t really matter.
__________________________________
Though I am a cat person by temperament, I am not one of those people who put down dogs. It’s traditional to claim that cats are free agents who walk where they will, dogs are slavish servants, eager to obey our every wish.
Let’s be fair: you can’t train a cat because cats are basically stupid. The average cat has a brain size of a walnut. (My vet insists indignantly that it’s closer to a Brazil nut, but she’s being charitable.) Dogs, by contrast, are actually smart enough to be trained.
There are basically two problems with dogs: they require much more care than a cat; and almost every dog is basically nuts.
To the first point: Dogs need regular schedules—they’ve got to be fed regularly, walked regularly and played with regularly. If you miss a dog’s scheduled walk by half an hour, you’ll know it—usually on your rug. Owning a dog is basically like having a hyperactive, furry child who will never, ever grow up.
To the second point, dogs are crazy because mankind has forced them into all sorts of unnatural sizes and shapes. A dog should be the size of a small wolf or a large fox—about the size of a Labrador Retriever, say. But that wasn’t good enough for man!
We’ve been growing all sorts of mutants: overly affectionate Goliaths like Great Danes who think that they’re lap dogs, and try desperately to prove it by climbing into your lap or psychotic pygmy dogs that yap hysterically at a world that’s somehow bigger than it’s supposed to be.
Add to all that the tendency among breeders to breed for looks as opposed to brains are health, and you end up with, well, Californians, I guess. (Good grief, a running gag!)
_______________________________
Upon approaching a country store, a man read a sign on the door that said, “DANGER! BEWARE OF DOG!” So it was with some trepidation that he opened the door and entered.
The only dog in sight was weary old hound dog lying on a rug. It looked up briefly when the man entered, wagged its tail twice, and fell back to sleep. It snored.
The man approached the store keeper. “Is that the only dog in here?” he asked.
“Yep!” answered the storekeeper.
“He doesn’t look dangerous to me,” said the man.
“He ain’t,” answered the store keeper.
“Well, then, why the sign?”
“Before I hung it up, people kept tripping over him!”
_______________________________________
There’s a reasonably new theory being bruited around about the origin of dogs as a separate species. It had long been supposed that man had somehow isolated wolves, tamed them, and eventually the tamest of the animals evolved into dogs.
Not quite, according to those who favor the new theory. In fact, just about exactly backward. Early man—like modern man—generated a lot of trash. They used to dump their garbage just outside the cave (just like frat boys today)
Wild wolves were torn between the desire for a pretty easy free meal and their fear of man. Those who could overcome that fear could get some free eats.
Eventually, some of THOSE wolves realized that there was warmth and protection in the cave, even if it did mean hanging out with those two legged beasts.
From there, it was up to man to look down and notice—hey, look! There are dogs here!
_____________________________________________
Here’s what’s probably the most famous of all talking dog jokes. We’ve probably all heard it, but I could hardly write a humorous piece about dogs without retelling it:
A guy walks into a bar in San Francisco with a mutt on a leash. The bartender tells him that dogs are not allowed in the bar.
“But this is a talking dog!” the guy insists.
“Ridiculous!” says the bartender.
“I’ll prove it,” says the dog’s owner. He turns to the dog. “What’s on top of a house?”
“Roof!” says the dog.
“What’s the opposite of smooth?”
“Ruff!” says the dog.
“And who was the greatest baseball player of all time?”
“Ruth!” says the dog.
“That’s it!” says the bartender. “Out you go!” and he kicks out both owner and dog.
The pair walks silently down the street for a few minutes. “What the hell,” says the dog, “I don’t care if we are in Frisco, I’m not saying ‘Barry Bonds’!”
A: I suppose it’s a Moot Point, but it doesn’t really matter.
__________________________________
Though I am a cat person by temperament, I am not one of those people who put down dogs. It’s traditional to claim that cats are free agents who walk where they will, dogs are slavish servants, eager to obey our every wish.
Let’s be fair: you can’t train a cat because cats are basically stupid. The average cat has a brain size of a walnut. (My vet insists indignantly that it’s closer to a Brazil nut, but she’s being charitable.) Dogs, by contrast, are actually smart enough to be trained.
There are basically two problems with dogs: they require much more care than a cat; and almost every dog is basically nuts.
To the first point: Dogs need regular schedules—they’ve got to be fed regularly, walked regularly and played with regularly. If you miss a dog’s scheduled walk by half an hour, you’ll know it—usually on your rug. Owning a dog is basically like having a hyperactive, furry child who will never, ever grow up.
To the second point, dogs are crazy because mankind has forced them into all sorts of unnatural sizes and shapes. A dog should be the size of a small wolf or a large fox—about the size of a Labrador Retriever, say. But that wasn’t good enough for man!
We’ve been growing all sorts of mutants: overly affectionate Goliaths like Great Danes who think that they’re lap dogs, and try desperately to prove it by climbing into your lap or psychotic pygmy dogs that yap hysterically at a world that’s somehow bigger than it’s supposed to be.
Add to all that the tendency among breeders to breed for looks as opposed to brains are health, and you end up with, well, Californians, I guess. (Good grief, a running gag!)
_______________________________
Upon approaching a country store, a man read a sign on the door that said, “DANGER! BEWARE OF DOG!” So it was with some trepidation that he opened the door and entered.
The only dog in sight was weary old hound dog lying on a rug. It looked up briefly when the man entered, wagged its tail twice, and fell back to sleep. It snored.
The man approached the store keeper. “Is that the only dog in here?” he asked.
“Yep!” answered the storekeeper.
“He doesn’t look dangerous to me,” said the man.
“He ain’t,” answered the store keeper.
“Well, then, why the sign?”
“Before I hung it up, people kept tripping over him!”
_______________________________________
There’s a reasonably new theory being bruited around about the origin of dogs as a separate species. It had long been supposed that man had somehow isolated wolves, tamed them, and eventually the tamest of the animals evolved into dogs.
Not quite, according to those who favor the new theory. In fact, just about exactly backward. Early man—like modern man—generated a lot of trash. They used to dump their garbage just outside the cave (just like frat boys today)
Wild wolves were torn between the desire for a pretty easy free meal and their fear of man. Those who could overcome that fear could get some free eats.
Eventually, some of THOSE wolves realized that there was warmth and protection in the cave, even if it did mean hanging out with those two legged beasts.
From there, it was up to man to look down and notice—hey, look! There are dogs here!
_____________________________________________
Here’s what’s probably the most famous of all talking dog jokes. We’ve probably all heard it, but I could hardly write a humorous piece about dogs without retelling it:
A guy walks into a bar in San Francisco with a mutt on a leash. The bartender tells him that dogs are not allowed in the bar.
“But this is a talking dog!” the guy insists.
“Ridiculous!” says the bartender.
“I’ll prove it,” says the dog’s owner. He turns to the dog. “What’s on top of a house?”
“Roof!” says the dog.
“What’s the opposite of smooth?”
“Ruff!” says the dog.
“And who was the greatest baseball player of all time?”
“Ruth!” says the dog.
“That’s it!” says the bartender. “Out you go!” and he kicks out both owner and dog.
The pair walks silently down the street for a few minutes. “What the hell,” says the dog, “I don’t care if we are in Frisco, I’m not saying ‘Barry Bonds’!”
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