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April 27, 2006 Edition

Dear Max,

My owner keeps bringing me doggy bags from local fast food restaurants but I don’t have the heart to tell him that I desire higher quality rashions. Plus the summer is almost here and I want to look good when I play frisbee in the park. What should I do?

Conflicted Canine

Dear Conflicted,

Someone actually brings a doggie bag to a dog? Now *there’s* a concept. Around here, I see a greasy white sack in the fridge, and then about lunchtime the next day, out it comes and down it goes – but not down here where it belongs. Either that or it sits for about 6 weeks and then gets chucked. The *horror*! Question about the fast-food variation on the doggie bag: who asks, “Would you like me to wrap that up for you?” and puts the leftovers in the flying saucer thingy? I thought ff employees paid patrons about as much attention as the levee builders paid New Orleans. But you desire cuisine that’s a cut above the curly fry, the chalupa, the thumb-pinch of McGriddle sandwich? You want to look svelte in your pelt? When it comes to discriminating palettes, you’re barking up the wrong advice columnist. I’d eat a rusty used band-aid off the street. So don’t look a gift doggie bag in the mouth. Be like the starlet with her psychotically adoring fans: it’s when they *stop* bringing home the bacon substitute from the Mickey D’s that I’d be worried.

Dear Max:

My mommy wants me to do yoga. What do i do?

charlie clawson

Dear charlie,

I am a huge fan of yoga. I’m especially fond of the kind with the fruit on the bottom. No — see, I couldn’t let that go without a food pun. I’m normally not in favor of working too hard for good looks, but my answer here may shokra: put your paws in prayer position and go for it. Yoga truly offers something for everyone. Women love the chance to improve their physical flexibility and balance in a rigorous yet rewarding pursuit that promotes both physical and spiritual well being. And men love the chance to watch a bunch of sweaty women contorting into sexually suggestive postures in leotards and sports bras. This ancient practice has a fascinating history. It was originated in the mid-1700s by the painter Francisco de Goya, who couldn’t keep up in a jazzercise class and kept bending double to catch his breath. The teacher, seeing his name on his shirt backward in the mirror — because of his odd orientation — kept exhorting him to get back in gear: “Yoga! Yoga, Yoga!” He also was the source of the traditional parting wish of the yogi. Asked by his teacher, “Are you gonna leave?” the intrepid Spaniard replied undaunted, “Namaste.”

Figure 1, below: yogi Max, demonstrating downward dog.


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