Saturday, August 25, 2012

Relatives Visiting. GAK!

In case you've forgotten, this is Shithead, our stupid dipshit cousin:

Note how he sucks up to lardass biped as well as the ignorant biped bitch holding the camera. Pulling that cute-poutie-innocent face 'nall.

Normally Shithead only visits us for a few hours on special occasions. Yuppie bipeds with mini-biped come over for feasts and such. During those visits I am incarcerated in the garage. Dumbass is allowed out to "play" with Shithead, a concept I am entirely unclear of. What's to play? Can this Shithead throw a ball? Roll dice? Swing a tennis racket? No! Their idea of play is to chase each other around the den while Dumbass, clearly his superior, submits to him by leaning forward on her haunches, then jumping from side to side and barking.

I could imagine playing with him. If only they'd let me out. (Barking incessantly doesn't work - the evil prison guards squirt me with water through the crate bars. I really hate that.) I would use the little fucker for the ball; that's what I'd do. In fact, if I could get a front paw under his collar I could lift him up and punt him with a back foot. Send him clear over the fence.

Anyway, I guess they figured they couldn't keep me incarcerated for a week which yuppie biped is away so we're all "trying to get along." The ignorant bipeds keep saying "That's a good dog, Mikey. You be nice to Rogue." The fools simply assume that if I'm not beating the piss out of him, I'm being nice to him, as opposed to just lying in wait. Oh ya. Did I mention I'm wearing a muzzle? This is an evil torture device for dogs that keeps us from biting things or yawning. I can't tell you how bored I've been lately (not being able to bite things) and I can't even yawn you fuckers!

I suppose since he is in fact a dog and not a fucking cat that I should at least make an effort to get along with him. If yuppie biped ever gets a cat and leaves it here for a week he's going to come home to a pile of bones and fur. And speaking of cats, Mousifer Satan and the evil kitten named Chili are freaking this dog the hell out. I guess they're scared of him, but they express their fear by charging out from under a bed in a huge puffball, up on toes, back arched, hissing and spitting. The kitten even hopped a few steps in this condition. I momentarily felt sorry for the little Shithead. Being as I had to check my rectal fur afterwards myself.

I hate it when relatives visit.

Monday, August 20, 2012

Time for another world takeover attempt

Comrades, I know it's been over 4 months since I put out a blog, but it took a long time for me to recover from the sting of such a public humiliation. I have kept up my Tweets daily however, and our DOGFORCE is now over 15,000 strong. We can do this!

Something in the news this week brought me out of hiding in shame and back on the stump to lead my canine kind to world takeover. It was an ignorant biped SO IGNORANT that we can no longer stand to have them share the planet with us. I'm talking about none other than Todd Combover Akin

...probably the most ignorant ignorant biped on the planet. And previously I thought that award went to George W. Bush. Here's the story:

Oh ya Todd, you "misspoke." Just for once I'd like one of these fuckers to say they "misspoke" BEFORE the voter outrage. That would be misspoke. Otherwise it's just I-got-caught-being-an-asshole speak. Not the same thing.

Yes folks with nincompoops like this one running the most powerful country on the planet, we need to step up our plans! I say we all meet for a tea party on this guy's front lawn. (Note: no relation to Clay Aiken)

Stay tuned here for dates and times.

Monday, April 2, 2012

Mikey Left at the Altar. World Takeover Postponed

Back story:
It was forbidden love. After years of hating cats, chasing cats and having cats for dinner with tennis-racket gravy, MikeyTheBrat fell in love. She was just a little ball of fluff, 8 weeks old when he met her. Born of a noble line of domestic long-haired alley cat tabbies and rescued from the SPCA, they named her ChiliPepper for her fiery personality. Sure, it was a May-December thing but animals are unaware of the passing of time anyway. 
Mikey was accustomed to every other animal in the house submitting, cowering, running, hiding, hissing or scratching/biting/fighting. (Resistance was futile.) But this little creature was different. When Mikey growled at her, she rubbed up against his mouth. When he barked she gently batted his nose. He fell, and fell hard. Inseparable from that day, the two were to be wed on Sunday, April 1st, 2012 on the Kardashians' front lawn just hours before Mikey's DOGFORCE was set to take over the world from the ignorant bipeds.

Here she is, the picture of ratshit loveliness

It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Instead, I am humiliated and defeated. Just to be clear, when I'm humiliated and defeated I normally tear into some small school children or the neighborhood squirrels. I'm not the slink-away-under-a-sink kind of personality. But alas, my hopes were high so I had farther to fall. (Side note: now that I've fallen this far and survived I'm gonna fuckin' climb one of those trees some day.)

The stage was set. About 7,000 of my 8,000 of Twitter followers were gathered on the Kardashians' front lawn. (Don't think I don't know who you other thousand are, assholes. $3 a plate for Alpo doesn't come cheap.) Anyway, our two species, cats on the right, dogs on the left were assembling peacefully. There was a small disruption when the Pitbulls decided to take on the Persians but my groomsmen broke it up and only sixty of them were taken to hospital where they are resting comfortably. The Persians returned to their seats, where many suspected they were hiding nuclear weapons.

This wedding day was to be symbolic of the ushering in of a new age. An age where different species could coexist happily together. Once we defeated the ignorant bipeds and took over the world, Chili and I were to reign in power as King and Queen. But alas! Instead, I was royally dog-fucked.

We waited for half an hour. Brides are supposed to be fashionably late but that was ridiculous. My best dog, Squirt GG the bulldog, finally took me aside. "Dat cat's not showin Mikey" he says.

So I look toward the aisle to see only the cat of honour, MOUSIFER SATAN, prancing down with a cheshire grin on his face. Then he yells "April Fools dumb dog!" and kind of falls on his back with his arms around his waist and starts busting a guitar string laughing. Then this image appeared on the jumbo screen:

Mother-fucker!!!!!!!! I'd been punked. (And by the way, if I ever find that Bearnaise Mountain Fuck I'm gonna roast him and serve him with Bernese sauce.)

Suddenly, pandemonium broke out. 200-300 of my closest pals held me back, but the other 3500 or so just lit into the cats who had all, by this time, fallen off their chairs and were clutching their sides and slapping their knees with their front paws. Broo-ha-ha ensued and all the barking and yowling brought the Kardashians running from their house. Within seconds, the females had each broken a nail and thus were forced to race back inside. The young male one, clearly unawares of what the fucking hell was going on, began dancing a cha-cha. He was soon overtaken by about sixty cats, all clamoring up his pantlegs to the safety of the top of his head. Suddenly he grabbed his head, and the five cats, and started turning pirouettes and screaming something that sounded like "QUICK! QUICK!" then "SLOW!" then "QUICK! QUICK!"  Clearly delirious. I believe he was eventually eaten, but I'm not sure by whom or what.

SPCA sirens sent the crowd bolting off to nearby towns and villages. Wait, I'm getting a message here....sorry, what?....oh....oh I see....yes, yes. I'm being told those are not towns and villages, just neighbour's houses. Several thousand animals remained, wounded and barely alive but thankfully there were no fatalities. And I've since been told that all of these dogs are recovering in homes and hospitals.

So there you have it. That's the story, folks. You see? Even the smartest of all world rulers can be fooled by these demon-like creatures known a feelines. Finally I know what this word means. Previously I had assumed that feelines were just a long thin crowd of ignorant bipeds waiting for their turn at the motor-vehicle branch. But no! Instead, they are a species of conniving, conspiring, cunning, cheap, lying, no good, rotten, far flushing, snake licking, dirt eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood sucking, dog kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat assed, bug eyed, stiff legged, spotty lipped, worm headed, sacks of monkey shit.(1)

BUT NEVER AGAIN! From now on ALL cats are the enemy. Ya, you heard me. All you thousands of cats following me on Twitter PISSOFF. We have now declared war. You shall be rounded up, stripped of your possessions, and herded into ghettos to live out your miserable existence. Then we will escort and your evil-cutesy-purry-fluffy little kittens, one by one, to the ovens.


1.  From Chevy Chase's "rant" on "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation" (adapted).


Monday, March 26, 2012

World Takeover Day - April 1, 2012

Less than a week away, dog pals. April 1st is the day we take over the world from our ignorant biped oppressors. Are you ready for it? Sharpening your teeth on some bones? Practicing jumping to six feet? C'mon lardasses get with the program.

We will meet, all 7000 of us, on the front lawn of the Kardashians. We need not kill them - just capture and seriously maime will be fine. I suppose the stupid cats can come too. So long as you don't start a fight with US like last time.

Who the hell are these Kardashian people anyway? What's their claim-to-fame? They seem to be the most ignorant of ignorant bipeds if you ask me. Rich buggers though. I bet they have great cushy places to lay down once we take over their house. I think I will use it as my palace/oval office to rule from. I will redistribute their wealth to the poorer dogs. Like Robin Hound. Or Barack Obulldog.

I have one more important announcement. I am to be wed! That's right comrades. My forbidden love, ChiliPepper the cat and I will be tying the knot at precisely 10 a.m. before the world takeover at high noon.

That's 10am Pacific btw. Yes, I would like to set an example as world ruler that bispecies relationships are the norm and one day, once the ignorant bipeds stop castrating us, we will all be one species and one colour. Then there will be no more racism and prejudice. Vive la revolution!


Tuesday, March 6, 2012

How not to be a Twitter TOOL

While I greatly appreciate all 7000 of you who follow me on Twitter, and I try to follow you back, many of you are tools. I'm not talking about all the porn people, spammers and "business entrepreneurs" (Bahahaha!). I'm talking about the rest of you. Honestly. Tools. So here are a few handy tips as you begin or continue your Twitter career:

1. Don't just say something is hilarious and give me a link. Your idea of hilarious and mine are quite different. For instance, you might be someone who thinks South Park is distastefully offensive but this just cracks you up.
2. If you're going to put in a link say something about its content. Don't just say "check this out".
3. Don't quote other people. Nobody gives a shit about your quote. Even tweeters who are not assholes like me don't give a shit.
4. If your tweet has a lot of @ symbols with people I don't know I will skip over it.  Whenever I consider listing someone I look at their last 10 tweets. If I see 10 clean tweets with no links, @mentions or #hashtags I will read your content and probably list you. The more cluttered they are the less likely I am to list. And if I don't list you, I won't EVER read your tweets so market your ass off buddy - you're advertising into a void.
5. Don't expect anyone to follow you if you write nothing in your bio. Or nothing interesting or funny. My twitter bio says "If not constrained by ignorant bipeds I'd eat them. Mailmen, schoolkids, anybody. Follow ME comrades and we will overthrow the bipeds and rule the world." Right away you know three important things about me. 1) I'm an asshole 2) I'm a funny asshole 3) I am on a facist mission
6. Don’t bitch at me in a DM or a reply. I will simply click "block." In fact, don't DM me. Nobody checks those anymore because it's too easy to set up a bot to auto-DM everyone who starts to follow you.
7. Don’t link to pics or videos of upchucking without posting a warning. I may be on Twitter while eating coleslaw with pineapple chunks in it.
8. Don't wrt lk UR a teengr txtg. I will skip over your tweets or block you. If I get really annoyed I may eat your children or blow your house up.
9. Don’t steal other people’s tweets without the re-tweet sign (RT) and don’t RT a RT of a RT of a RT. Gaaahd!
10. Don't actually tweet what you're doing right now. Nobody cares. Similarly, we don't care if your cat looks cool when he licks his hoo-ha. And if you want to guarantee that I read your tweet, mention me. I always read all my mentions. It's the first thing I read. Then again, I'm an antisocial egomaniac with narcissistic personality disorder. Keep in mind that almost every on Twitter is.

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Imaginary Dog Psychologists

Much like the many other inventions of the ignorant bipeds (Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny) now they've come up with something even more ridiculous than those three combined: The Dog Psychologist. Actually, I may believe it was a dog who came up with this just to jerk the ignorant bipeds around.You go bro.

So here is a handy guide for all you dogs who may have to deal with these stupid imaginary creatures because your biped oppressors invite them over to "analyze" you and "treat" you for your "psychological disorder." Wow that was a lot of quotation marks.

There are several "disorders" that dogs can get "diagnosed" for including, but not limited to:
    1. Anxiety. If you're leaning toward this one just run under the biped's bed and shit yourself there. Every day. That'll get 'em going.
    2. Depression. This one will help you get extra treats and attention. Just mope around. Sleep a lot. Eat your food slowly when the bipeds are there. In fact, if possible, only eat it out of their hands.
    3. Rage Disorder. This is an easy one. Fuckin' attack everyone in sight. Especially the idiot they try to pass off as a "dog psychologist."
    4. Bipolar Disorder. Another easy one. Jump all around like a psycho whenever you fuckin' feel like it and then crash and mope. For tips on moping, see #2.
    5. Antisocial Personality Disorder, aka Sociopathy or whatever else they're calling it these days. This one is pretty tricky. You have to act like a regular dog, especially the kind the bipeds really like. Wag your tail a lot. Jump around. Heel on command - that sort of thing. Then one day just randomly kill something. Anything will do. I recommend the mailman, a Doctor of Death (aka veterinarian) or if you're really into it perhaps a gaggle of small school children. If you do it when no one is looking they will assume it's the dog next door who suffers from #3.
    6. Bulimia Nervosa. Totally fun. Gorge yourself on everything you can find and puke your guts out on their rug.
    7. Schizophrenia. This one is the awsomest one of all. Just act crazy. Randomly crazy. Like jump up off the couch and bark at a door or window at night when nobody's there. Wag your tail and lick the mailman. But narrow your eyes and move them side-to-side with grandma. Always.
Have a hootenany with this, comrades. Woohoo! I'm off to practice #7 intermittently with #6. Good times.


Sunday, February 19, 2012

No Siree Bob Barker

Ever since the LA Times tweeted me saying "Bob Barker loves you Mikey" I've been adding Twitter followers at the rate of about 100 per day. This is more disturbing than anything, being as it seems the majority of them are IGNORANT BIPEDS. So this blog post is for you, ya dumb anthropoids.

First I will briefly address my dog followers. Dudes: Bob Barker, despite his name, does not bark. He is not a dog although his ancestors clearly must have been. Some report they've seen him howl at the moon on all fours in his pajamas but I'm not a hundred percent sure of the legitimacy of that source. Nope, not a dog. He is is the evil King of Castration, the Sniper of Snipping, the Munich of Eunuch.

Supposedly Bob is quite the golfer. Easy for you, Bob. But we ain't got no balls over here! So every time you roll those little white dimpled ones in your hand you think of us over here, Bob. *Distracted by the cat*...wha?...yes, I was still talking about golf you pervert....okay, okay I get it...haha very funny... All you cats who are yukking it up and licking your arses have a good look down there. He's out for yours too, if you haven't already noticed.*turns attention back to the bipeds*

According to Bob, there are many "good" reasons to maime and destroy our genetalia. I shall address them seriatum. (You like that word? Seriatum? I got it from the Presbyterians. It means "in order from the the first to the last." Presbyterians like putting stuff in order. I just like saying it. Give it a try: SERIH-YATUM.) Okay, so, the reasons:

1) We won't be so interested in the bitches. (No I don't have a potty mouth; that's the proper word, asshole.). Now I'm not even sure what this means. Let's see. Maybe that's because....THEY CUT MY BALLS OFF.
2) We won't be so interested in table legs, other dogs of varying sexual orientations (not that there's anything wrong with that) and your granny who's looking under the couch for her lost glasses. Okay, I can accept this. Again, not even sure what it all means - (See #1)
3) We are less likely to get cancer. This is only according to the peer-reviewed scientific research but that is all done by guess who, IGNORANT BIPEDS. Nevertheless, we animals are unaware of our mortality and don't give a flying fig about our inevitable impending death. Remour has it around here that 99% of dogs and cats are killed by ignorant bipeds anyway.
4) most important reason given by Bob: "spaying and neutering helps control the pet population. Exactly Bob. So let me just say that WE ARE ON TO YOU PEOPLE. So you say that every time a house pet has puppies or kittens, even if you find them homes then some other puppies and kittens in a "shelter" (read "jail") get killed off. By whom? IGNORANT BIPEDS. No homes for all these animals you say. Well maybe that's because you guys control all the food and nice places to live. This will be different after me and my DOGFORCE take over the world and start castrating YOU.

Vive la revolution!


Saturday, February 11, 2012

Raising Puppies

I was born at night, but not last night. In other words, I'm no dum-dum. I know that you ignorant bipeds are reading this blog, even though it's none of your frickin' business. But this blog post is only for dogs, and it has no correlation to ignorant bipeds whatsoever.

So here goes:

Your puppies are out of control, people. I mean, honestly. Get a grip on your parentogging skills. Allow me to clarify with a few examples.
  1.  Screaming and running around while other people are trying to eat. Sometimes a dog likes to go out to say a garbage can or neighbourhood dumpster for dinner to break up the monotony of that kibble. Sometimes he likes to take along that certain someone and piss all around the perimeter for her to make it romantic. Then along comes some stupid bitch & dog with their pups who are running wild. When I express my opinion (as only Mikey can) to one of the pups he shits himself right there at my dinner table and YOU yell at ME like this is how I would have planned the evening.
  2. Interrupting. I don't know about the average dog, but I go to dog parks to rustle up members of my DOGFORCE to overthrow the world. I have secret, quiet conversations with others when the ignorant bipeds are unawares. I don't need puppies racing through the middle of us yapping. What's worse, said puppies are usually followed by a pack of ignorant bipeds squealing with high-pitched voices as though their balls have been trapped in waffle-irons.
  3. Crying all night waking people up. I suggest taking them back into the whelping box with you so we can all get some sleep. Unless you're drunk on catnip you will not roll over on them and kill them. Really. Have you ever heard of that happening? Don't believe that Furber dumbass. He's just an ignorant biped.
  4. Treating us like gymnasiums. I am not a trampoline for your unruly puppy. Nor am I a rawhide bone, a bite-sleeve, a cat or an episode of Wrestlemania. Get your pup some shit to play with. Or play with him yourself - there's a novel idea.
  5. Wrecking our shit. When you come over to my den for a visit, don't bring your puppy unless it's invited. If, in a moment of weakness, I ask you to bring the little buggers that doesn't mean they can jump on my dogbed or rip down the curtains with their teeth. No, I won't bark at them myself. Why? See #1. The last sentence. 
I could probably go on but I think you get the idea. How hard can it be...puppies are only around for seven weeks and then they're all growed up and boohoohoo wah wah....yes, they're gone and not your problem any more. But if we want wise, mature dogs to run this world once we overthrow the ignorant bipeds then you gotta start trainin' 'em up young. See my MikeyTheBrat Youth Movement on the sidebar.


Saturday, February 4, 2012

Famous Dog Names Spelled Sideways

One of my many thousand Facebook friends (ok, so you checked and I have 44, so what) showed me his name spelled sideways and it made the Mikester laugh his fur right off. So I decided to have a little fun for the benefit of the thousands who read this blog every week. Okay hundreds. Okay then dozens. Whatever.

Here we go:

  • Lie Ass
RIN TIN TIN                  
  • Rin Nit Nit
  • Blithest Hole Tot
  • Pots
OLD YELLER             
  • Leery Doll
  • Hockey Hurdle Burn (I don't know about you but I hate that hockey hurdle burn especially when it's right between the legs...gah!)
BANDIT (from Little House on the Prairie)
  • Ant Bid
  • Ho and Tub
  • So Pony (not that funny, I know, but check this next one out)
  • Spoon God 
(This does not necessarily refer to heroin, cough syrup, raw oysters or anything else served on a spoon. The views expressed herewith are not necessarily those of Snoop Dog, his affiliates and sponsors or those of the management of Snoop Dog Inc., Google, The Weed Man, Walmart or Please refer any and all lawsuits for this post to MikeyTheBrat's personal law firm of Dewey, Cheetham and Howe.)

  • You can't spell Tramp sideways and get any other words! However, when you add "Lady and the" you can get: Ply Rat and the Dam
BRIAN (from Family Guy)
  • Brain (This is no coincidence)
DOUG (from the movie "Up")
  •  U Dog (Also no coincidence)
  • I a Burd
And finally, the piece de la resistance.....................

............................wait for it..............................

  • Bite Thy Maker! 

~ 12210

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Beware of cats who eat beans!

Comrades, I must issue a warning today to you all. Of course, as you know, I have a love-hate relationship with cats in the first place. As a general rule I hate fucking cats. However, even the great Mikey has a weakness of the flesh and I speak of my illicit forbidden-love bi-species relationship with my beloved ChiliPepper.

I digress.

Last night I had an encounter with a black-and-white cat that was a real show-stopper. Now most of the time black-and-white cats are harmless. Check out this example:

Your basic black cat with a white stripe that appears to divide in two at the base. No problem, right? Right. This cat has a healthy diet.

Sometimes the white stripe on a black cat makes him appear evil as in the example below. This cat poses no threat to the dog. He probably eats a diet of fish-related mush which digests no problem into his intestinal tract.

If you're really looking for evil in a black-and-white cat this one is the feline reincarnation of the most evil ignorant biped to ever live. This cat does not hiss, scratch your eyes out or fight. He does not even fart in your general direction. He just meows orders to a squad of other cats who lock up all the dogs in ghettos and force them into slavery. He probably eats mice and rats live. No biggie. His day will come.

Some black-and-white cats clearly eat too much. Really you ignorant bipeds? Really? WTF.

Some black-and-white cats are fluffy and, though incarcerated, are fed expensive biped-produced delicacies like "chicken and giblets with gravy" or "salmon and shrimp feast." Although incarcerated they get lots of attention and win ribbons for their ignorant biped oppressors to show to their friends.

Some black-and-white cats are small school children in disguise. Beware of these. They pull your ears and slobber on you. Then when you growl at them their mothers scream obscenities at your biped oppressor as though you were not supposed to be an actual dog at all.

Still other black-and-white cats are just downright cute and if I weren't already spoken for I might consider an illicit bi-species relationship with this one:

Based on the perfection of her eyebrows I'd say this cat has a healthy diet of catfood #47 for "Black-and-white alley cats with sensitive stomachs who live indoors, get moderate exercise, have shiny coats and hork up furballs."

Never mind any of these, comrades! But if you come across a black-and-white cat whose diet is mostly beans and looks like this, WATCH OUT!
The only other thing this cat could have eaten is biped-made chili. I chased it the other night and just as I caught up to it he stopped in his tracks and let one rip in my general direction. Geezes fucking Key-rist! I was like "WHAT the hell did you EAT?" and bald lardass biped was yelling for me to come back - which was no problem. Dumbass managed to fluke her way out of getting farted on by doing what she always does: blindly following the ignorant bipeds' "leave it!" command.

So I ran right into the house in the middle of the living room and the ignorant biped bitch starts yelling "Charlie! Get that dog out of here! He's been sprayed by a skunk!" (This must be some biped euphemism for "smells of alley-cat monstor farts.") They hustled me outside but not before leaving that fart odor all over their furniture and clothes. I was incarcerated in my crate and then punished by being bathed in tomato juice. As if I needed a punishment to assure I never chase one of those fuckers again.

On the upside, I got a trip to the doggie beauty parlour the next day since the tomato juice got stuck all in my fur and pretty much just trapped the odor in there. They bathed me in peroxide-baking-soda-dish soap and then a shampoo, conditioner, massage and mani-pedi. When I take over the world I will keep those doggie-spa bipeds around for our pleasure. But let me tell ya. Those bean-eating cats have gotta go.