I Just Don't Get It
Okay, I'm not the most sophisticated cat to ever walk this planet but I don't believe that I'm totally uncultured. I'm not the smartest guy to grace these blogs but I know that I'm not a big dummyhead either. I'm not a snob by any stretch of the imagination but even I recognize things that are obviously out of place and I often lose sleep when confronted with such items. What has caused me to post such a thing you may ask. Well, let me tell you.
I'm a dog guy. I love dogs. I love big, slobbering, goofy, lick-your-face dogs. I love dogs that still have a hint of their wolfen ancestors in them. That being said, I'm not a huge fan of any breed that can be described using the words: prissy, poofy or proper. Dogs were not meant to be any of those things. Dogs were meant to chase tennis balls and to mangle them beyond recognition and to have me scratch them behind the ears and go, "That's a good boy." Of course, if the dog in question is a female then I would obviously go, "That's a good girl," but I digress. So, using this bit of information one should be able to come to the conclusion that I'm not a huge fan of dog shows. Dog shows, for those who don't know, take all the things that dogs are supposed to be and do, and throw them out the window. I, and this should come as no surprise, hate a freaking dog show.
Now, I don't claim to an expert on dog shows but I have come to the conclusion that THE dog show to watch is held by some folks called The Westminster Kennel Club. This sick group of people actually televise their show on ESPN. For starters, dog breeding and grooming is NOT a sport....sorry. It is right above NASCAR and Texas Hold-Em on the list of non-sports shown on a sporting network. Secondly, is there really a large enough audience for this sick and twisted display that it would require a network with the viewership of ESPN to broadcast it? That, in itself, scares the crap out of me. But that, my friends, is not what keeps me awake at night.
I have, unfortunately, had the chance to view a couple of these perversions of nature. My wife enjoys a good poofy dog parade every now and then and I, being the loving husband that I am, allow her her guilty pleasure. She, in turn, allows me to watch Dawson's Creek reruns, but that is an entirely different topic altogether, back to the poofy dogs. Every time I have had the misfortune to view one of these things, I have realized just how snotty some of the participants are. The dogs don't have dog names (like Spot and Fido and KoKo) and not a single chewed-up tennis ball is visible. Instead, we are subjected to prancing and posing and prodding. The commentators, if you really want to call them that, are snotty and speak in that prim and proper English that is reserved only for professors and folks with craploads of money. The whole thing reeks of elitism and snobbery, which brings me to my problem.
I once saw an ad on ESPN and I nearly peed my pants. It was an ad for the Westminster Kennel Club's upcoming show. I can't remember how many years they've been doing this but it is well over a hundred, so the video and voice-over were celebrating the rich history of the event and displaying all sorts of snotty images featuring poofy dogs. The problem however, was not with the images or the spoken text of the ad. The problem, my dear readers, was with the song chosen to showcase this commercial. One would expect a nice classical piece, perhaps Pachabel's Canon In D or Bach's Jesu, Joy Of Man's Desiring. At the very least, a peppy jazz tune or even a Celine Dion song would make fine background noise for such an event. Do you want to know what the geniuses in charge of this commercial chose? Do you? Are you prepared to be shocked and outraged? Are you sitting down?
The fine folks at the Westminster Kennel Club, after much thought and deliberation I'm sure, decided that the best song to represent their time-honored tradition of poofy dog prancing was Europe's The Final Countdown. Yes, you read that correctly. The Final Fricking Countdown....quite possibly one of the worst pop-metal songs to ever be written. Yes, there is a really swell synthesizer part that is obviously classically inspired, but the lyrics are about traveling to Venus after the Earth is destroyed. What would possess them to pick a song sung by a sinewy blonde hunk named Joey Tempest? Can you imagine the meeting that inspired this?
Chet: We really neeeeeed to choose a theme song for this year's event.
Blaine: My good chap, you couldn't be more correct.
Chet: I propose some Handel or Mozart.
Buffy: No....no....let's go with something a little more contemporary. How about Louie Armstrong?
Blaine: That's a really swell idea you have there Buff, but I'm afraid our ratings are down and we really need to draw that youth market in.
Chet: So, you're saying we want to go....modern?
Blaine: Exactly. We want something cool and hip that the kids can relate to. We want something with an edge....something that will make us THE dog show to beat.
After several minutes of painful silence.....
Chet: By Jove I've got it.....
Poofy dogs and pompous cheese-rock....what's this world coming to?
I'm a dog guy. I love dogs. I love big, slobbering, goofy, lick-your-face dogs. I love dogs that still have a hint of their wolfen ancestors in them. That being said, I'm not a huge fan of any breed that can be described using the words: prissy, poofy or proper. Dogs were not meant to be any of those things. Dogs were meant to chase tennis balls and to mangle them beyond recognition and to have me scratch them behind the ears and go, "That's a good boy." Of course, if the dog in question is a female then I would obviously go, "That's a good girl," but I digress. So, using this bit of information one should be able to come to the conclusion that I'm not a huge fan of dog shows. Dog shows, for those who don't know, take all the things that dogs are supposed to be and do, and throw them out the window. I, and this should come as no surprise, hate a freaking dog show.
Now, I don't claim to an expert on dog shows but I have come to the conclusion that THE dog show to watch is held by some folks called The Westminster Kennel Club. This sick group of people actually televise their show on ESPN. For starters, dog breeding and grooming is NOT a sport....sorry. It is right above NASCAR and Texas Hold-Em on the list of non-sports shown on a sporting network. Secondly, is there really a large enough audience for this sick and twisted display that it would require a network with the viewership of ESPN to broadcast it? That, in itself, scares the crap out of me. But that, my friends, is not what keeps me awake at night.
I have, unfortunately, had the chance to view a couple of these perversions of nature. My wife enjoys a good poofy dog parade every now and then and I, being the loving husband that I am, allow her her guilty pleasure. She, in turn, allows me to watch Dawson's Creek reruns, but that is an entirely different topic altogether, back to the poofy dogs. Every time I have had the misfortune to view one of these things, I have realized just how snotty some of the participants are. The dogs don't have dog names (like Spot and Fido and KoKo) and not a single chewed-up tennis ball is visible. Instead, we are subjected to prancing and posing and prodding. The commentators, if you really want to call them that, are snotty and speak in that prim and proper English that is reserved only for professors and folks with craploads of money. The whole thing reeks of elitism and snobbery, which brings me to my problem.
I once saw an ad on ESPN and I nearly peed my pants. It was an ad for the Westminster Kennel Club's upcoming show. I can't remember how many years they've been doing this but it is well over a hundred, so the video and voice-over were celebrating the rich history of the event and displaying all sorts of snotty images featuring poofy dogs. The problem however, was not with the images or the spoken text of the ad. The problem, my dear readers, was with the song chosen to showcase this commercial. One would expect a nice classical piece, perhaps Pachabel's Canon In D or Bach's Jesu, Joy Of Man's Desiring. At the very least, a peppy jazz tune or even a Celine Dion song would make fine background noise for such an event. Do you want to know what the geniuses in charge of this commercial chose? Do you? Are you prepared to be shocked and outraged? Are you sitting down?
The fine folks at the Westminster Kennel Club, after much thought and deliberation I'm sure, decided that the best song to represent their time-honored tradition of poofy dog prancing was Europe's The Final Countdown. Yes, you read that correctly. The Final Fricking Countdown....quite possibly one of the worst pop-metal songs to ever be written. Yes, there is a really swell synthesizer part that is obviously classically inspired, but the lyrics are about traveling to Venus after the Earth is destroyed. What would possess them to pick a song sung by a sinewy blonde hunk named Joey Tempest? Can you imagine the meeting that inspired this?
Chet: We really neeeeeed to choose a theme song for this year's event.
Blaine: My good chap, you couldn't be more correct.
Chet: I propose some Handel or Mozart.
Buffy: No....no....let's go with something a little more contemporary. How about Louie Armstrong?
Blaine: That's a really swell idea you have there Buff, but I'm afraid our ratings are down and we really need to draw that youth market in.
Chet: So, you're saying we want to go....modern?
Blaine: Exactly. We want something cool and hip that the kids can relate to. We want something with an edge....something that will make us THE dog show to beat.
After several minutes of painful silence.....
Chet: By Jove I've got it.....
Poofy dogs and pompous cheese-rock....what's this world coming to?
posted by Lee | 2:30 PM
2 Comments:
Dogs were made to chew up tennis shoes and fetch sticks and to roll over and get their tummies scratched.
Yes they were.
FFS, I agree to disagree. I have what you (by definition in post) would call a "prissy, poofy or proper" dog. I have a reg. papillon, he weighs in at a whopping 4.5 lbs. He is a wonderful dog (dumb as a door knob, but they say they are in the top 5 for intelligence...I haven't seen it yet but he's still a pup) and I also have a reg. basset hound, he weighs in at about 65 lbs. He doesn't shred the balls, my little one does. The basset just swallows them. lol However to the point....I can not stand the dog shows, both of my dogs are show worthy but I wouldn't do that if I was paid. (well depends). Either way I agree with most of what you say and I am appalled at their choice of music but hey, what can we do? lol I guess I could sick my ferocious 4 pounder on em and let my 65 pounder lick em to death?! lol
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