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French Poodles before/after
French Poodles bother me.
All poodles annoy or bother me in some fashion, but with those damned French Poodles, its a whole 'nother ballgame.
On a visceral level, they bother me.
I want to say something like 'they spook me' or they 'freak me the fuck out', or they 'unnerve me', but this doesn't capture the essence of what I'm feeling about the French Poodle situation in my life, which is disturbing.
French Poodles evoke a response from me that is, at the very least, hostile.
I see them, with they're freaky fucking haircuts, and their owners who treat them as though human, those gangly limbs, and odd mannerisims, and I loathe.
Its the haircut and the maw, mostly. That gaping, hyena like, deranged crazed smile of a maw that bothers the hell out of me. Couple it with the outlandish, other-worldly, if-that-other- world-has-a-very-horrible-and-Parisian-fashion-sense, fur cut, and the only response that comes to mind when I encounter one of those beasts is to kill it. Kill it expeditiously. No remorse. No mercy. No creulty. Just take that fucker right out of the equation.
Whack it with a meat-hammer. Do what's necessary. Restore the balance.
And this is the rub. I think I've been leading a very existential, live-and-let-live lifestyle. Randomly killing dumb animals, even Satan spawned French Poodles doesn't exactly jive.
Maybe its the incontinuity that exacerbates the Poodle Problem. Maybe I just don't like hoidy-toidy useless fucks, like French Poodles or George W. Bush Jr.
But I think this would be a far, far better place if there were no freaky fuckin', uptight, noisy, crazed looking and DownRight Disturbing French Poodles wandering around.
And their owners are on the short list, too.
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