The Bitter Banana Bi-Weekly

I would have been a avid pet lover, were it not that my idiot ChinaDad had consumed every damn dog I owned.

Canine is a common ingredient for any “Shanghai Surprise” present in the menus of a Far East eatery. Thus, it is no surprise that dogs in this century answer the chink’s mutt-lust with a riposte of their own, vigilant and violent resistance by incoherent barking and biting.




Common fact decrees that all yellow-skins of America tend to shun from adopting masculine pets. Instead of buying a noble hound, they’d settle for a warmly hairball who scuttles aimlessly for food. On my way to the bank, I saw the miserable little wretch droops her tongue about in exhaustion, bound by a fabric leash held by a hungry Chinaman. Drawing a conclusion by observing her wide doggie girth, I assumed that she is taking her final voyage to slaughterhouse, where she would have all her bodily dimensions weighed and assessed before having her meat divided between the many City Woks in Chinatown. Her master held up his neck, revealing the ghastly flea ridden dog hairs hanging from his unhygienic yellow teeth, slanted his eyes in pride, and with a huff, coldly dragged his prized floundering bowwow down the sidewalk.

Orientals are too scared to buy themselves a real pet to fatten up in fear that their mongrels’ll overpower them. Even yarping little wiener-dogs can instill fear into the cautious rice-picker.

So next time, if you take your chivalrous and loyal four-legged companion out for a Sunday stroll, and you see some shrimpy-looking gook smacking his lips in delight, unhand your grip on the leash and set your hound of war against him!