Waitin' On A Betta' Dawg

Here is another simplified little bit of truth for you voting idiots otherwise known as the American public.

Let me pose a "Lets say." Let's say that you lived in a relatively safe neighborhood, in a city where there were a few crazies that you never actually saw. Because you are so afraid of what the crazies MIGHT do, you decide to buy a dog for protection. When you get to the pet shop, the owner of the shop tells you that you can have a perfect dog. a dog that has been trained to tell the difference between friends and any would be burglar. Once the dog has ascertained that something is wrong, it has been trained to rip to pieces any stouthearted burglar fool hearty enough to try jumping over your fence. You are amazed, and you decide that you just must have one of these wonder dogs. But, you are a little bit cautious, knowing that it is the owner's job to puff up his product, so you ask for a few demonstrations. The owner sets up a demonstration for you the next day. Bringing the dog to your house, the pet owner releases the dog into your back yard, where he then prowls anxiously. All of a sudden a dummy comes flying over the back fence, making your wife scream and your children run to their room in terror. The dog charges, and soon, your finely manicured lawn (which you had just had cut and groomed) is covered in dummy stuffing. You curse the pet shop owner, but you're totally impressed with the dog. You ask the owner if the dog will do that every time. He does not quite meet your gaze, but says that the dog IS highly trained. But you are wary (smart man), so you ask him to repeat the demonstration tomorrow. Sure enough, the owner shows up the next day with the dog. Once again the owner releases the dog into your backyard, where the dog falls immediately to sleep. At this point you get a little concerned, but the owner assures you that the dog is still aware of its surroundings. In flies the dummy arcing high over the wall, landing right beside the dog. Nothing....., nada..... not a hair moves, he remains completely, totally, fast asleep. The owner goes outside and nudges the dog, nothing, fast asleep. Finally the owner picks up the dog and carries him out of the house promising that he would return tomorrow with the dog back in his old form to prove that this was a fluke. Day three dawns with the wife laughing at you for even still considering the idea of buying your "wonder dog", but as promised, the pet shop owner shows up with your future protection proudly in tow. He releases the dog into your backyard, and once again, the dog prowls anxiously, but then quickly falls fast asleep. This time YOU go out and kick the dog, but the dog remains as before, unconscious. As the pet shop owner leaves, counting his money. Your wife starts throwing things at your head.

Now tell me, what is your name (pssssssst........ans. George "Dubya" Bush).George W. Bush is putting his dog in our backyard, and its job is supposed to be protecting us from the "rogue" elements in our neighborhood. Just in case they decide to lob something mean and spiteful our way, that dog is supposed to jump it and rip the stuffing out of it. The name of that dog is the National Missile Defense System. There is only one problem. This dog has been really tested four times, and three of those times, it has been fast asleep. Now, being a teacher, I have a passing acquaintance with averages. If at the end of the semester a student has an average of twenty-five percent, I know what he has as letter grade. I know most of you have short memory spans, but I will bet that even the dimmest of you can remember what you received when your average was below fifty. You received an F. That F stood for FAIL. I do not know about you, but if I buy a dog for protection, that bastard better rip my MOTHER apart if she jumps my fence at night. And being asleep three-quarters of the time is not a good enough batting average for me to trust that dog.Say Dubya!!!!! I reckons you got a bit of a problem with straight thankin', but shouldn't we oughta be a waitin' on a betta dawg? (Translated into Texan for his better understanding)