I asked one of my thirteen year old students where Santa lives. She said the Philippines. Either Santa’s cashing in on child labor or he’s on permanent vacation. You ever see Santa in a tank top? I bet he looks like an old walrus.
I’m not an angry person, but sometimes I see something that I can rage about and I always feel great afterward. And today, something at LotteMart caught my eye. It’s a beautiful sight.
You can see the dog food before you buy it! Really? As in one packet of pebbles doesn’t look as appetizing as the other? You want to search through the dog food like an owl pellet, looking for squirrels bones or rubber bands or loose pieces of ribbon? The dog doesn’t care what the food looks like. For god’s sake, dogs eat their own shit!
I’ve eaten many things in my life that look like vomit, and I don’t just mean Indian food. Hell, we’re in Korea, the land where fish heads are a delicacy and boiled silkworms are eaten by the handful. So why would I or anyone in this country care what the dog eats? Dogs are tough by nature, and it won’t matter a single bit if you get the dog the beige food over the auburn.
