Friday, June 16, 2006

The Eye Wit's Book of Etiquette or the Lack Thereof

(This is a feature I started on another site; however, as the world has continued to get less civil on a minute-by-minute basis, it's obvious that the Eye Wit's work will never be done)

People are appalling. This is a general axiom, and one of the most consistent in life. Many people are of the opinion that the purpose of etiquette is to please other people. Balderdash! Its purpose is to give yourself the upper hand, because authoritative tomes such as this aren't going to be read, much less followed, by most of the rest of the world. Generally, that means they're the ones who are in the wrong. So, it's up to you to take the lead in social intercourse, and guide the wretched bastards as they schlep their way through a mostly-clueless life.

Today's' Topic: Dogs. More to the point, people who own dogs.

The Eye Wit confesses to being a dedicated "cat person", yet this does not mean that he cannot give guidelines for dealing with canine situations. However, I'd like to point out a few things first:

1) Statistically, cats are the number one pet in America, outnumbering pet dogs by nearly 10 million.
2) Cats are picky, and they only like you if they choose to, whereas your average dog will gleefully hump the leg of an underage-pig-molesting axe murderer whose dental hygiene is twice as bad as that of your average Brit.
3) They're a lot easier to take care of, and you don't have to worry about where they go to relieve themselves. Your bare feet in your back yard are safe, except for those ticks that give you Lyme Disease.

The first rule is aimed directly at dog owners: Get over it! Many of you feel that any "rejection" of your obnoxious pet is a personal insult against you. "They're my babies!" you will say. Biologically, that's impossible, though apparently, there are a number of websites full of photos of people trying. Proper Etiquette requires one to delete the spam you get regarding "barnyard sex", but not before writing a scathing letter back to them, sarcastically thanking them for two terms of a Bush administration. Chances are very good that these people all voted for him.

But, I digress.

Dog owners: Some people simply do not like dogs, and whether or not they like you is a separate matter. There is a connection, though; if you can't control your bloody animal and keep it from annoying me or other Cave Canem persons, then I'm a lot less likely to like you.

Non-Dog Persons: The days of being polite about it are now officially over. Do you let your ferret, for instance, run up the pants leg of other people (especially Senators, who do deserve it) and inflict multiple contusions on their private parts? No!

So, here are a few things to remember regarding this social problem, and there are many more locked and loaded.

My Lawn: Notice the word "My". Don't be out walking your dog, and let it crap on MY lawn. I'm particular about who I let do that, and you and your dog aren't on my list. If you do, then clean it up immediately. If you didn't bring a bag with you, that isn't my problem; use your bare hands. If you're apologetic, and seem genuinely ignorant that there IS a "scooper law" here, then I'll give you one of those bloody useless plastic grocery bags that rip and let everything fall out in your car on the way home. This is an appropriate use, since they are crap to begin with. If you fail to clean up after your dog, then Etiquette permits me to pick it up with a shovel, follow you home, deposit it sans bag on your front porch, douse it with napalm, and set it on fire. Thus will the offender wind up stepping into what he/she/it was going to leave on your lawn to step in, and they will be forced by circumstance to do it with gusto. Etiquette consumers: You are entitled to use the flammable agent of your choice.

Leash Laws: Surprise! We have that, too, and so do a large percentage of municipalities in the USA. And let this be a lesson to you: the Book of Etiquette deplores cruelty to animals, even scum like dogs. However, if you let the slobbering thing run loose, then you cannot complain as to the consequences. Two examples: Your dog is loose, and comes and craps on my lawn since you've trained him to do so, you son of a bitch. I am within the law, and more importantly, the authoritative EWBOEOTLT, when I call Animal Control to come and pick the damn thing up. No, I won't be "neighborly" and tell them who the owner is; your dog just deposited your entire supply of neighborly consideration onto my lawn. Therefore, be prepared to have to go to the massively-inconveniently-located Pound and shell out the $50 to get the stupid thing back. When my unleashed elephant with chronic diarrhea defaces your yard, then you may do the same to me, and I will not complain. Especially since for the same $50, pound-for-Pound-pound, I'll have gotten a much better deal.

In addition, when I drive down my residential street, as so many do (and please, stop it, people. Drive down your own street, will ya?), there are myriad places where a child or other vulnerable person may suddenly step out, or where swerving could endanger me, my property, or someone else's, and your dog runs in front of me? Etiquette and plain common sense both demand that I run over the dog. Not only is it the dog owner's fault for letting the waste of protoplasm run loose, but they should offer to wash your vehicle to remove any traces of the dog's lungs, which everyone knows will ruin a car's paint very quickly.

The Crotch "Halo Rule": No person visiting your house or encountering you in public is obligated to react nicely when your foul-breathed, trench-mouth-infected dog sticks its head into another person's crotch. If you make the wholly anti-Etiquette remark of "That's just how they get to know you", then in addition to forfeiting the life of your dog, you might have to go, too. Peoples' crotches are sacrosanct, and nobody gets to go there unless given a specific invitation. Your dog's spittle-dripping snout with the meat-eater teeth is never invited, period! By failing to control your beast, you have already given up your expectation that the offended party should not violently shove the mutant's head away from his/her/its groin as violently as they wish to. Is it a "slap in your face"? You bloody well bet it is! It is not "all right", it is not something to accept "Oh, don't worry about it" over. Four feet is as close as the maw of the rabid politician-spawn should be allowed to get to any other person's private parts, unless a specific authorization is given. First-time violation: The offended party may shove the dog's head away as hard as they like, and demand an apology, which the pet-judgment-impaired person must issue. Second violation: The offended party may kick the head, rib cage, or genitals of the mutt and utter profanity about the dog owner's mother, which by the Rules of Etiquette, the dog owner must agree that it is all the truth. Third offense: The offended party may strike, wound, and/or kill the animal. At his/her/its discretion, a more humane choice of having Animal Control seize the animal and "put it to sleep" for being a danger to the public may be opted. Fourth, and ultimate offense: Not only may the offended party smite or kill the slobbering sycophantic scum, they are also entitled to do the same to the dog's owner. Why? Because three strikes and you're out, four strikes and you've volunteered be taken by Animal Control to the Pound, since you're apparently just as dangerous as the invasive dog, and have no regard for other people, nor their family jewels. And they may, at their whim, "put you down" along with your vicious poodle, or whatever the breed may be.

In summary, to Non-Dog-Owners: Stand up for your rights! Nothing obligates you to be passively "polite" when you and your personal space are being disrespected. Dog Owners: Straighten up, train your hulk properly, and take full responsibility for it. Its behavior is a direct extension of your Etiquette or your Lack Thereof.

The simplest and most direct approach for dog owners: Feed the stinking fewmet factory to a roving band of ravenous wolverines, and get a cat!

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