He’s Your Dog, Charlie Brown
By Nancy Greggs

Yep, that’s right, GOP. George W. Bush is your dog, and it’s time you put a leash on him and took him to the pound.

It’s not like he was a puppy when you got him. He was, as they say, a ‘mature animal’ when you decided to foist him on an unsuspecting nation.

All you had to do was talk to his previous owners, the State of Texas, and you would have found out what havoc he had wreaked in their home. He dirtied their environment, put his cronies in positions they weren’t up to, made sure the corporations had the run of the house when no one was looking – doesn’t any of this sound familiar? It should; it was all right there in his papers.

The damned dog couldn’t even find oil in Texas, no less a bone – ‘cause that would have required actual work, and we know how lazy your hound turned out to be.

It’s not like you thought you were getting a good guard dog – you know, one that makes sure your country is safe and all. We all know that when your dog was called to heel and obey during Vietnam, he cowered under the porch until the whole thing blew over.

And it’s not like you thought you were getting one of those pedigreed purebreds either, like the smart ones you see on TV. I’ve actually seen mutts that can pronounce ‘nuclear’ better than your pooch, and they’re not considered intelligent enough to run a kennel, no less a country.

God knows he ain’t no show dog, so let’s not even go there. We’ve seen your hound on the world stage, and when he’s not barking at the international neighbors like a rabid fool, he’s pawing the company to the point where you’re too damned embarrassed to even look them in the eye.

Let’s face it. Some dogs are just untrainable, and some of them are just plain dumb. Either way, if left to their own devices, they tend to lift their leg on the Constitution, laze around on the couch all day while everybody else is working, and leave messes on the carpet that they naturally assume will be cleaned up by someone else.

You’ve undoubtedly seen the signs. The minute you close the front door, he’s rummaging through the garbage, chewing up your bank records, eating that expensive, family-sized roast you had defrosting on the counter. He also has a tendency to hold the pet-door open and let all kinds of creatures in, all determined to take over your household and wreck the place while you’re our breaking your back to make enough money to keep the little mutt in the style to which you’ve allowed him to become accustomed.

And when you get home and chastise him for the destruction, he blames the entire thing on the cat, the parakeets, your kids’ pet gerbil – anyone but himself.

He spends his days at the windowsill, howling at would-be intruders, insistent that they’re about to break into the house and steal your valuables any second – but when you check to see what the big threat is, there’s never anybody there. And besides, you don’t have any valuables left to steal, because he’s already absconded with them and you have no idea where they went.

Look, we all know what happens. You get yourself a lazy, stupid hound and you just keep telling everyone – including yourself – that he’s lovable and special, just a bit odd. You call his inability to learn simply a determination to do things his own way; his stubbornness is passed off as a uniqueness of character, and his complete inability to get along with anyone at all is dismissed as part of his “noble beast” persona.

Believe me, when it comes to bad dogs, I know whereof I speak. After four years of living with a Beagle – as cute as Snoopy and just as full of arrogance and bad attitude – I know what it’s like to be stuck with an animal that does everything it’s not supposed to do, everything it’s been told NOT to do, a smart-assed, furniture-chewing, out-of-control excuse for a household pet.

But there’s a big difference between your dog and mine. You see, when my dog jumps in the bed, nobody dies. When my dog chews up the furniture, democracy doesn’t suffer. And as bad as she is, she’s never tortured anyone, started a war, plundered the treasury, or given billions of taxpayer dollars to her buddies. In fact, as dumb as she can play-act when it’s convenient, she’d do a lot better job of leading the nation than your mongrel ever could.

So let’s face it, Republicans. You’ve got one mad dog on your hands, and it’s about time you put a muzzle on him, took him back to the breeder who passed him off as a family-friendly pet, and demanded your money back.

You’re responsible for elevating this mutt to the presidency, so lick your wounds, take the appropriate rabies shots, and just admit that what you’ve got isn’t man’s best friend, but just one dumb and nasty junkyard dog -- and as any dog owner can tell you, them's the worst kind.