I was watching King of the Hill a few weeks ago, and both Bobby and Hank get into dog dancing. Yes, that would be the act of dancing with your dog–in public. I thought, “There’s no way this crap can be for real.”
Obviously I underestimated the mental instability of the average American freak. I find it especially nice that the dog and the woman dancing with him wear matching outfits. The zoophiles that mask their love by calling this “sport” canine freestyle aren’t fooling anyone. We all know where all this dancing is leading…
After all, why else practice the canine mambo if not to bag a real stud? Certainly it’s not for the colorful costumes and the prancing and shit. Luckily there are videotapes and workshops to help you learn all the tricks.
I’m just shocked to what lengths people will go to avoid boredom. Some lame housewife was probably sitting on her couch watching Montel one day when her poodle came up to her begging for snacks, and the idea was born. She threw on a little Celine Dion, put a sparkly collar on the pooch and became the toast of her knitting circle. My grandparent’s community in Florida has nightly “entertainment,” and why do I just know that these f’n dog dancing people are twirling the evening away to the sound of breathing tubes and wet snoring.
