Saturday, April 2, 2016

Dear Pluto

Dear Pluto,

I'm writing you today, as a friend hopefully, because I want to be there for you.  It's no secret, I don't really like dogs, but I hate to see anyone without someone to talk to.

For years people have wondered why Goofy can talk but you can't.  After all, you're both dogs.  And you're not stupid.  Especially compared to Goofy.  Hell, Goofy has an offspring - that means someone actually mated with him.  Let's face it, the guy is an effing idiot.  I've seen the cartoons where he tries to do sports and just keeps messing it up.  Sure, not everybody is good at sports.  You don't want to see me try and play basketball.  But c'mon, the guy frigs up everything he tries to do.

And yet he can talk and you can't.

Or can you?

Am I to believe that you choose not to speak when, in fact, you've always been able to?  Are you choosing to keep silent because Mickey, Minnie, and the rest of the gang are so used to the utter bullshit that comes out of Goofy's mouth you might be afraid how they react to your first words?

I bet you're even very well spoken.  You probably speak better English than I do.  And I've been speaking it my whole life.

Maybe you just have nothing to say.  As your (new) friend Pluto, I want you to understand that whatever you have to say is important.  Your feelings and opinions are just as valid as anyone's.  Unless you start every sentence with something like, "Huck-yuck gawrsh," in which case just keep your fucking pie-hole closed.

Your pal,
- ryan

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