George Carlin And Mister Rogers Guest-Host The National Dog Show

Sue D. Gelber
Nov 28, 2019 · 4 min read
Images — Rogers: PictureLux/The Hollywood Archive/Alamy, Carlin: Carlin Productions, Dog Show: National Dog Show by Purina. All images licensed under fair use.

“Welcome, friends! I’m glad you could join me, Mister Rogers, for The National Dog Show. I’m thankful for you today! The network wanted to attract younger viewers, so I’m your celebrity announcer here with my new friend, George Carlin.”

“I bring the hippies and you bring the dippies, Fred. Can I call you Fred?”

“Sure you can, George. I like being your friend. You can call me anything you’d like.”

“Great, cuz ‘Mister Rogers’ seems so formal. It’s not like we’re at a Congressional hearing, although it feels like it when you see a St. Bernard trying to hump a Chihuahua backstage.”

“How do you think the Chihuahua felt, George? Little dogs have feelings just like we do.”

“I’ve chased a lot of tail but I’ve never seen this much humping.”

“That reminds me of a poem my little friends and I like to say: ‘snips and snails and puppy dog tails.’ Lots of wagging tails here, so let’s get the show started!”

“Hot damn! Bring on the bitches!”

“Look at these happy dogs. Do you know what makes a dog happy, George?”

“Licking his own balls?”

“Dogs are happy when they give unconditional love.”

“Is that like free love? Cuz I tried that but I always had to pay one way or the other.”

“A dog loves you just the way you are. And so do I.”

“You’re an odd guy, Fred. Almost as odd as these weird-looking dogs.”

“Well, George, it doesn’t matter what they look like. We love them all. Pugs, greyhounds, rat terriers….”

“Even poodles? With that stylist-on-LSD haircut?”

Especially poodles, bless their hearts.”

“Did you know the groomers use powdered glue to get the dogs’ fur to stay in place?”

“George, you know so much about grooming! Can you tell us how you learned? Did your mommy or daddy teach you?”

“Actually, I tried snorting some powder backstage. Then security asked me to leave the building. So I might need to skedaddle soon.”

“Before our time comes to an end, let’s talk about The Working Group.”

“What the hell is that thing? Looks like a furry Volkswagen Beetle.”

“That’s Bernese Mountain Dog Number Four, Chester Overcoat Lumberjack’s Joy.”

“Is that really his name or are you on acid? And if so, can I have some?”

“George, you don’t need drugs! You’re perfect the way you are.”

“Well, I have a parole officer who’ll disagree with you on that.”

“Let’s talk about last year’s winner, a breed called the Whippet!”

“Whip It? A BDSM dog, huh? Must have been from The Hurting Group.”

“Oh, I get it! Herding Group, Hurting Group. You’re funny, George. I’m glad we’re friends.”

“Same here, Fred. I even dig your cardigan. Unfortunately, I think security spotted me, so let’s speed things up.”

“Well if you want speed, George, look how fast these handlers sprint around the ring. They run while wearing suits and skirts.”

“Like a drug raid at Barney’s.”

“They dress up because it’s an important day. It takes years of training.”

“What makes a person qualified? Being a former CEO? ‘I’m good at doling out baloney. Also, I spend a lot of time running in circles and leaving piles of shit.’”

“Oh, mercy, I don’t think you can say that word! But look, here come the terriers.”

“Ah yes, they look like they got sprung from a prison block.”

“This is Cairn Terrier Number Six, Spatula Oblongata Nocturnal Delight. See how the handler puts him on the table? The judge is checking his form.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, did that judge just feel up the dog? I’m pretty sure she touched his nuts. Shouldn’t she at least sniff his ass first?”

“George, you can’t say that on TV.”

“Ass? Sure I can. But I have a list of other words that I can’t say. Shit, piss, fuck….”

“OH DEAR! Let’s talk about our feelings for a minute. Are you angry inside?”

“Not as angry as that terrier must be.”

“There are many words you can use instead of swear words. Just like there are lots of dogs! Look at this one, George. It’s a Bichon Frise.”

“Sounds like something I’d order at a French restaurant. ‘I’d like the Bichon Frise please. But can you make that gluten-free?’”

“And this Pomeranian.”

“Clearly a breed that managed to escape Darwinism.”

“And the Shih Tzu.”

“You said shit!”

Shih Tzu.”

“Close enough. Hmm, maybe from now on I’ll say Shih Tzu instead of shit. As in, oh Shih Tzu! I see security coming!”

“See? We’re learning from each other, George!”

“Now it’s my turn to teach you. Let’s scram out the back door and go get matching poodle tattoos on our asses!”

“I’ll do it, by golly, because we’re friends, George.”

“Damn right we are. Now hurry!”

Slackjaw

Sue D. Gelber

Written by

Runner, writer, dog lover, bad yogi. Work in New Yorker Daily Shouts, McSweeney’s, Electric Lit, etc. Online at suedgelber.com.

Slackjaw

Slackjaw

Medium humor. Large laughs.

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