Sweitzer's rotund wife left her sissy poodle "Manchmal" at our house today, though you wouldn't know it. I call him Hitler. I was using the toilet this morning when I hear some whining somewhere down on the floor. I put on my glasses and looked around. Finally I saw something crying in the corner. Well, it was Hitler. He must've snuck in under the door. You can be sure I scolded him plenty.

"Hitler," I said, "You listen to me! When a man's going about his business, he don't want no sissy-ass pseudo-dog awatchin' him! It's un-American and you know it!

And then I threw a wet towel at him so he knew I was serious. Well, wouldn't you know it, the creepy little thing just stood there and took it! That's what I'm talking about. A big, fat bath towel just swallowed him right up, and he sat there like he was crazy-glued to the freakin' corner. Whine, whine, whine. I just left him there to die.

You call that a dog? Not at my ball game, mister. That there is what you might feed a parking meter, or wipe off the bottom of your shoe. If I get my hands on that little freak again, I'm puttin' him on a boat to Taiwan, no questions asked. You know they EAT all kinds of queer domestic animals in Taiwan. The way I look at it is, this teeny inbred disgrace to God got out of the Taiwanese restaurant/zoo and I'm just sending him back.
Doin' my duty. As an American.