My Dog, The Jerk

Hi, I'm Corey, and this is my roommate, Joel. Say hi, Joel. Hi. I have a dog, Pickle, a 3 year old Shiba Inu. For the past 3 years, I've been struggling with Pickle's various (and numerous) quirks - basically, he's an undersocialized, panophobic spaz with ADD, OCD and ED (he's neutered, after all). The ladies love him because he's perhaps the least threatening dog ever. Guys love him, well, because the ladies love him. Until recently, this paragraph would have thoroughly summarized all that is Pickle.

Then, Joel and I found out there is much more to Pickle than we ever could have imagined. See, we can't be around at all times to keep an eye on him. We always assumed he just lounged around the apartment all day, napping and licking his nether-regions. We couldn't have been more wrong.

The truth: My dog, Pickle, is an insufferable, conniving, degenerate, spiteful, gambling-drinking-sex-drug-thrill-addicted jerk.

This blog is a catalog of the photographic evidence of Pickle's path of destruction. If you have a dog who is similarly wreaking havoc on the world like a canine Charlie Sheen freebasing cocaine, please send us your photos, and know that you're not alone.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Say Hello To My Little Friend

Brian De Palma (director of Scarface) shot us an email last night:


You have probably heard of me.  Even though no one in your pathetic generation can comprehend the greatness of my films, I'm sure you've seen some of them.  The indoctrination of Scarface into popular culture makes me sick.  It was a low-budget turd that was polished by nothing but my own genius.  This may be my most famous work, but my greatest masterpiece is Snake Eyes with the delightful Nicolas Cage.  But you wouldn't know that, now would you?  But of course this is neither here nor there...

My producer from Scarface sent me a frantic email yesterday with a link to your site.  I opened it and immediately shit my pants.  Your anti-Christ of a dog hung around that crap hole Scarface set for about a week.  He strutted around like he owned the place.  That little asshole held up production for three days.  He'd get in the shot and refuse to leave, ripping anyone's face off who got near him.  Pacino was absolutely terrified of him.  Pickle would chase and terrorize him constantly.  Pacino ran around and screamed the highest-pitched scream my ears have ever heard....pathetic.  Check out the attached picture.

You must have sold your souls to the devil in order to tame that bastard dog.  I don't know how you acquired him but I would advise you to never drop your guard in front of him.  I'm sure he's plotting some diabolical scheme to torture and kill you.  If I ever see that dog again, I'm going to set it ablaze.  I carry a personal flame thrower ever since Scarface.

Infinitely yours,
THE Brian De Palma

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