Things my dog totally understands: Being goddamned awesome.

Look at that. I was straight cold lampin' it on a hammock drinking the champagne of beers, and murphy was all like, "i'm getting in on that fucking action." So he hops on up and straight hangs out. He knows what's up. Staring at birds, trying to eat cats.
I would say he spends all of the day everyday thinking, "i'm a fucking badass, i'm a fucking badass, i'm a fucking badass..." but we all he know he doesn't have to. Plus, everyone that sees him thinks "look at that fucking badass. look at the badass hound. shit." It comes naturally.

This is one crucial hound.

Watch your girlfriend when he is around, or you may leave single.

Stuff my dog does understand: He wants that treat.

Seriously.

Hammers

I think we can all agree that hammers are awesome. But you know what? Murphy doesn't give a damn about hammers. He has no opposable thumbs to grip a hammer and slam down some nails to build a skateboard ramp, a dog house or even a deck...And Murphy loves decks. And maybe this is why he just doesn't "get" hammers. A useful tool used to build some of his favorite things, and he can barely grasp what hammer is.
The other day I was tossing back brewskies with Rattlesnake (that's Murphy's biker name) and we were discussing how awesome Slayer is and why Robocop is better than Avatar. Neither of us have seen Avatar, but I think we brought up some good points. On my way up to use the bathroom I stepped on a nail that was popping up on the stairs. It didn't hurt. When I got back I said, "Murphy, can you get me a hammer, so I can slam down that bitch of a nail?" he responded by looking like this,

Stock Picture.

I even asked him, "What's a hammer? What's a hammer?" He then looked like this,



He doesn't know. He doesn't care. He has more important things to do. He has to make sure he is the most bad assed hound this side of the Mississippi and the Mason Dixon. The answer to that is; yes, motherfucker. he is.

Todays edition: Things that make Murphy sad.

The Oil Spill


This doesn't need much explanation. The BP oil spill has made this grisly hound a sad pooch. Sometimes on clear, humid nights he howls in anger at the moon. When mothers hear it, they weep for their baby's future. The mighty eagle perches to shed a single tear.

Europop

You can spend all day explaining Europop to Murphy, but it won't do a damn thing. Murphy doesn't understand and doesn't want to understand. You see, Murphy has better things to do than worry about trying to understand Europop. Why understand Europop when you can lick your own wang? or howl at jerks? or chill in the sun and get ladies to pet you? Yeah, all of the sudden you wish you did that instead of trying to understand Europop.

kvlt

Under a blood-red moon in the cold waters of another world
Where winter shadows lies untouched
Where I dwell at the mountains of madness
Entering with the cold winds of funeral dust.

49% motherfucker, 51% Son of a bitch