Written by Morse

Thursday, 3 September 2009

Alright, I suppose you're wondering how a black, knappy headed mutt like me made it all the way to the top in the White House while a lot of other well bred dogs are still looking for a good home!

It was kind of an accident really. When the Obama brood was looking for some good press and a few photo ops when they first took over the White House, they needed a feel good story...not that they didn't get their share leading up to the coup which got them here in the first place.

But me, I was just another mutt left behind by my father, who they tell me was a real stud, in demand, being flown all around the world shagging bitches and spreading the word about being "top dog".

I have a lot in common with the head dog here, me and Barack both have big families extending into the hundreds....some even have mixed blood. I found out by accident I even have a 3rd cousin twice removed that's got white paws and a real small dick. Being a true blood Portugese Water Spaniel, I call him a Portugese-American Water Spaniel, even though he hates the water with a passion.

And I guess that's another misconception around here. People think that cuz i'm black I hate the water and can't stand the north cuz my bloods too thin!

Dumb human fuckers! I've been bred to swim, and fetch too...and I don't mean bringin' out them stolen TV's from busted in apartments, neither.

And the cold...bring it on. I got hot blood, just wait till my ball sack drops down and I'll show you that I'm my pappi's son....that is if the people in the house here don't snip 'em off first! Doubt it though, these people value a good investment, and if they leave my balls alone I'll give them a 1000% return, better than they even got working as community organizers.

Just in case you think everything around here is warm and fuzzy, well, let me tell you honkey, it ain't so! I'm nothing more than the family accessory. As soon as the picture takin' was done, no one cared about me anymore.

Yeah, I get my 3 squares a day and a little time in the yard. But how would you feel being followed around in the Rose Garden by a 230 pound white guy with a Glock 22, 3 exra clips and a pooper scooper. A man has to meditate before he takes a good shit....fuck me, a white man with a gun waiting for me to take a bowel movement....scares the shit out of me, man, no time to let them little turds pass, give a sign of contententment, and then cover it up with a few distainful kicks from my rear paws. I get no privacy!

The food ain't bad. Kibbles and 2% milk for breakfast, some mixed fruit yogurt from lunch, and then around 4 P.M. I get the early bird special, more kibbles and about a 1/2 can of pork jowels with some collards greens to keep me regular.

Of course, being black and almost invisible around HERE, I get to hang out under the dining room table when the family all eats together, which is on average about once a month, since they're never home much. I collect up all the chicken bones and ribs those kids throw on the floor, which their daddy told them was ok to do since they had white folks to clean up after them now,
and I scurry back to my bed in the former Clinton Bedroom Master Suite.

Barry, he say, when he investigated his new home, " this room, Michelle, it ain't fit for nothin' but an ole hound dog", so I guess that's why they gave it to me. Sure smells funny too...cigar smoke and pussy. Guess they never cleaned it up after Bill moved out.

Prowling around at night is the best time, 'cause I get to sit with some real people that have to work when every one else is sleeping. My favorite is "Max", the secret service guy who guards the liquor cabinet from the no count help. Me and Max chill out listening to some Bad Boy Blues from the likes of Howlin' Wolf, and then chill down with some Mose Allison. Max drinks a bit from a flask, but he's real mellow and seems to like my company. The feeling is mutual. I like real people. He also rubs my ears a lot and talks about
his 4 ex wives he lost because of his job protecting the last 4 Presidents.

I do get to travel some. The fucking helicopter is awesome man! Got my own spot under the seat and it's like getting picked up by a giant vacuum cleaner...straight up and then off to Camp David for a weekend of chasing ducks, geese and a few squirrels.....I'm beat by the end of the day.

I suppose you're wondering if I have a language barrier, being Portugese and all, and livin' around a multi lingual family. I've always been good with language, so that there Ebonics, English, Mexican Spanish ain't no trouble.
Startin' to learn a little Arabic too, even some curse words.

Speaking of curse words! I just love it when Rahm Emanuel shows up, all kinds of M****F**** this, C*****S******that....boy that guy can really communicate, but he and Barry seem to be on the same wave length. You should hear it when they start talking about that Nancy Pelosi....you know, the one with the Botox face and the $2500 dollar wig....the one that looks like her shit don't stink....Fuck Me, Dog....she squats down to take a crap like the rest of us but she pretends it's an immaculate passing!

Almost nap time. Time to hit the sack and have some doggy dreams and think about my blog and what I'll have to say tomorrow. Got to dodge that witch Marian Robinson, Michelle's Mamma....she's been putting the evil eye on me lately, and keeps checkin' me out to see if I've gained any weight.
I think I know what she has in mind, but she's goin' have to get up early to fool this ole dog.

Big Dawg, Gone.



The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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