Stealing Beef From Dogs

An image of an emotionally shattered victim of Beef thievery.




Another shivering victim of this senseless crime.



Any fool or grund knows that a dog's most feverishly enjoyable moments are when he is given a large shard of beef to gnaw upon. Take the above image for instance. This hair-hound will never live a finer moment in his dull and pointless life than to spend an hour or two sinking his teeth into this lifeless hunk of red gristle.

The question we're asking today is: why would someone try to remove these few and precious moments of true happiness from the lives of pooches? The answer: A beef shortage caused by this man: Lesh Wabb.



Last week, Lesh Wabb rounded up a small militia of goons to walk the midnight streets and steal the beef from out of the mouths of hair-hounds all over this great nation. His goal was to give the beef away with free tires at his tire centers. A loyal team of naynards, led by Wabb, snuck into the backyards and pooch kennels and smelly alleyways of America, forcefully removing beef bones, liver backs, and red-rods from the mouths of hungry hair-bodies everywhere.

Ever since word got out about Lesh Wabb the Beef Thief, Beef-Dog Relationship Experts and Flavor Scientists have banded together to stop this atrocity. One Dog-Beef Champion Advocate by the name of Scooter BoneFeast marched right up to Lesh Wabb and attempted to sucker punch him in the stomach. But little did he know, Lesh Wab was a robot. Just before his sucker punch landed, Lesh Wabb's stomach cavity snapped open, revealing a serious of bonegrinders and shredding gears. Scooters fist was pulled in and ground to a pulp and processed along with Dog's Beef into a product he then gave away as a promotional item to his customers later that afternoon.

In a world of illegal beef-grindings and swift grabs at midnight, who could picture a darker moment for dogs and men?

"Jad:" Prince of the Boys

Science Doctors and Field Researchers have discovered the cure to ugliness. It lies in the bloodstream of "Jad:" Price of the Boys. "Jad" was discovered encased in ice deep in the Antarctic. He was believed to be preserved there by members of "the Brotherhood of Jad," a dynasty of bodyguards sworn to protect his legacy and his beauty for it to be preserved over time.

As it turns out, Jad was born in the year -982 Before Lord. He was born with a full head of long, smooth hair, a open blue shirt, and a light brown leather coat--as well as a few charming neck-laces. His parents decided then that he should live forever, so they froze him in a block of ice and enclosed a note that read: "Whoever should uncover this boy, thaw him out for one minute and put him back into the ice for another hundred years."

And so it went. Every one hundred years, the secret "Brotherhood of Jad" thawed Jad out and gave him a bite of good food and a nice hand job and put him back into the ice to rest. Now, in the year 2011, Jad is only a 16 year old, even though he's been around for thousands of years.

American Scientists, working hand-in-hand with Brotherhood members, thawed Jad out and gave him a fun-size snickers bar while a firm-handed stooge gave him a hand-jammer in his undercarriage. Brotherhood members allowed American Scientists to take a small vial of his blood in order to, hopefully, discover a cure for ugliness that has plagued America for centuries.

Now that the news is out about a possible cure for pizza-faced ugliness, we took to the streets to ask uglies and hum-dots their opinions on Jad's cure:

"I havn't had a hand on my rigumtorts in years. Not since a man tripped and fell and his hand dipped into one of them on a subway car back in 1975. Once he noticed he touched them, he took a small saw out of his backpack and sawed his own hand off in fear that my ugliness would infect his man-paw."
-Morgus Poon

"I was born with sour warts all over my noggin. After I came out of my mother, the Doctor quit and took of his robes and both my parents jumped out the 7th floor window into some shrubbery and ran off. Ever since then I've lived in the ventilation ducts of the hospital I was born in, feasting on fuzzy-lumpers and dust bunnies for breakfast lunch and dinner. Perhaps if Jad's cream works, I can begin to eat things that aren't entirely composed of floor sweepings and balls of hair and dead skin."
-Bean Grunch

Melted-Face Class Reunion

The time has come once again for the annual melted-face class reunion. People from the greater Lava-Boil area will come together for a celebration of friends, family and warm embraces. And skin drippings.

All the graduates from Lava-Boil High Class of 1974 will be meeting in the cafeteria for warm, water-boiled hot dogs--a favorite food among people with melted-faces. There will also be a series of prominent speakers within the melted-face community along with a special guest appearance by a certain melted-face local-access TV "celebrity" chef.

Guests of honor include:



Maynard Lawnsauce -- A patient and honorable man known for his misgivings regarding the combination of ketchup and mayonnaise and the complications that can arise from deep facial massages in the "normal face" community.



Slopdome McGribbles--Regarded as a kind of "local celebrity" in the Lava Boil area, Slopdome McGribbles hosts his own local-access television program based out of his dungeon in East Lava Boil. Mr. McGribbles is a self-proclaimed "expert" hot-dog handler and respecter. It is said among his fans that McGribbles has transcended the inter-dimensional barrier between the anal-flesh and inner stuffing of hot dogs themselves. Many disagree. Regardless, McGribbles will be preparing the food for the event.



Boon-Toon Dripsnout--National funnyman and star of such direct-to-VHS features as "Face Face Fall Off" and "Being a Funnyface" will make an appearance at this years reunion. Boon-Toon is known to many as the happiest and most cheery man in the melt-face community--with his signature monologue about "being a dope at the supermarket." Children and adults alike will adore his pleasant and face-drippingly enjoyable live performance.

DUI Dads: Trying Not To Disappoint Our Sons

"Before my third DUI, I hit a couple of kids on a school crosswalk. I drove to the carwash and sprayed the teeth and bone fragments off my hood. Then I called my son and asked if he could give me a ride home. He wouldn't give me a ride so I decided to drive myself. On the way home I hit two more kids on the same crosswalk. Then I had to go BACK to the same carwash and wash more teeth and bone fragments off my hood. By then, my car looked like shit. I wondered how I'd explain to my wife how it got so dinged up. Two blocks from my house, I got pulled over for changing lanes without a turn signal. It was bullshit."
-Doovy Wetpool

After I got my third DUI, I got my car taken away. Now I have to ride my "Volcano Lava" Mountain bike that I got from Target for $99.99. I usually ride on the sidewalk and the shoulder of the freeway to get to work. Most other bike riders use the bike lane but since I'm a DUI Dad, I take the sidewalk to try to convince myself that I'm not a reject and a shame to society and my family. I like to think that I'm just in "a transitional phase." Sooner or later, when we get a new president and a smaller government, I think I can get my car back and get my life back together.

For now, though I'm trying not to cry while I ride my bike. I get really sad when I think about my family. Mostly, I just think about my son Metlock and what a good boy he is and how he hardly ever answers my phone calls anymore. Just last week, I offered to pick him up on my Volcano Lava Mt. Bike and take him out to Dennard's for a breakfast hotfeast, but he wasn't interested. He said he was going out to Rich's High-Dollar Money Feast at the Gold Coin Hotel Top Floor with his friends.

I think tomorrow, I'm going to get a new pair of windbreaker cargo pants and a new cotton face-shield so I can impress my son with my new "fresh" look. I think if I can maintain the illusion of a sidewalk-bike professional, I can earn back his trust.

I've also recently joined an online community group called "DUI Dad's of North America's Sidewalks." It's a place where I can go and talk to people just like me who prefer to ride their bikes on sidewalks and freeways--to help delude ourselves into thinking that we're upstanding members of society.