Wow. Is it tomorrow already? I must have overslept.
So, since the first edition of "Dog Reviews" was so popular (and, by popular, I mean completed and posted on the blog), I foolishly decided to attempt a second version. "Dog Reviews", of course, for those new to the blog or those who just stopped by for naked pictures of Jennifer Connelly, is my attempt at interspecies film criticism, or bestireviewality, by forcing my ADHD suffering Jack Russell to watch a film and scientifically noting with a sharpie on the palm of my hand his reactions (this is the way that scientists always note things, of course). The last time, of course, was a disaster, leading to all kinds of body functions and boardline cruelity. Being a rational and intelligent human, of course, I decided to try again.
Last time, I attempted to force the dog to sit through multiple reviews, which led to serious resentment on his part and a post so long and rambling that NO ONE wanted to read the thing, not even my mom (ESPECIALLY not my mom). This time, I figured I'd just try one film, and, in an attempt to gain his interest, I chose "Basic Instinct 2: Basicker Instinct", or something like that. Why this sequel to the muff-flashing, gay-baiting, ice-picking, soft-focus classic? First, my dog has always been a fan of Sharon Stone's breasts, even the old, dry-roasted Sharon Stone (who, I must agree, actually looks really good for a 1000 year old soul eating mummy). Deux, as they say in France, dog's are all about instincts, some good (like attacking the mailman trying to violate the sanctity of my home), some bad (like humping my face while I sleep...with my mouth open!), and some basic (eating, drinking, breathing). C, "Basic Instinct 2" is subtitled "Risk Addiction", and I just now diagnosed my dog with a risk addiction. What else could explain the desire to eat Christmas tree bulbs, or to jump out of 2nd story windows, or to crawl under the couch when even my wife is too afraid to clean under there, or to eat the chicken nugget one of the kids dropped in the back of the van in 2002. Gotta be risk addiction. So this film would appear to be the perfect flick to watch with my dog.
Wrong.
I had forced the dog to sit by my in front of the TV and was in the process of getting the DVD out of the slightly sticky case when I began to smell something incredibly bad, incredibly ass-like. Believing this scent not to be of human origin, I shot an accusatory glance at my dog, who verified my assumption by making his eyes real big and flattening his ears against his head in a manner to indicate his disatisfaction with his life at that point. "You stink," I said. In his shame, he didn't answer, only looked away. I began again to prepare for our fully scientific dog review session.
And, yet again, I am hit with the overwhelming smell of ass.
Now, there are several areas of a dog capable of stink. First would be the mouth. My dog's teeth are brushed once a year and, considering the vet only charges me $6 for this (compared to the $90 twice a year the dentist would ask if I ever went there), I question the quality of this cleaning. Not only that, but my dog is not particularly picky about what he puts in his mouth. Dirt, plants, shoes, mail, chairs, poop, dead squirrels, live squirrels, coins, leaves, grass, the side of the fence, my wife's toes, and dog food- it's all the same to him. So the mouth is a definite possibility. Of course, there are also his feet. Dogs have the mysterious power, not yet explained despite several government grants to do so, to make their feet smell like Fritos corn chips, and not a good kind of Fritos corn chips, either. There are his ears- he seems to enjoy scratching his ears with his Frito smelling feet, then smelling and licking his feet when he's done. Considering that he also enjoys smelling and licking dead birds and dirty underwear, I can't figure he's getting perfume out of there.
I immediately picked him up to attempt to locate the source of the ass-smell eminating from him and rapidly filling the room, desperate to stop the foul gas before losing conciousness. I attempted to smell his mouth, only to have him lick my nostrils and attempt to lick my lips, driving me back. I grabbed a foot and smelled that- Fritos (and not the good kind- the store brand that's been sitting on the shelf too long), but not ass. I thought about smelling his ears, but it seemed both repulsive and slightly illegal. So, if it wasn't his mouth, his feet, or his ears, what could it be? What part of my dog was I forgetting that could be filling the room with a horrible, ass-like smell and-
Oh.
Outside he went, where he promptly ran around the yard barking at all four corners to make sure it was secure enough to poop in. I gave him a few minutes then attempted to call him back in to complete "Dog Reviews, Part II", but he simply stared at me like I was nuts then began to run around the yard barking again. Dejected, I returned to my still slightly rank smelling room, but I couldn't bring myself at this point to watch Sharon's stones flopping around in a hot tub, no matter how well preserved. Then I realized the 10 minutes attempting to obtain a new "Dog Review" was not a waste. It was a true scientific experiment!
Hypothesis
Based on the principles of Pavlov's classical conditioning, behaviors can be reduced by producing a negative stimulus at the time of the behavior.
Procedures
The behavior to be observed will be the universal male desire to look at breasts. This will be accomplished via the use of a DVD player and a rented copy of "Basic Instinct 2: Electric HooHoos". The negative stimulus, introduced at a variable interval time-frame, will be canine flatulence, produced naturally by a sheepish looking Jack Russell terrier.
The behavior to be observed will be the universal male desire to look at breasts. This will be accomplished via the use of a DVD player and a rented copy of "Basic Instinct 2: Electric HooHoos". The negative stimulus, introduced at a variable interval time-frame, will be canine flatulence, produced naturally by a sheepish looking Jack Russell terrier.
Observation
After several doses of large and powerful quantities of the canine flatulence, combined with the added negative stimulus of Frito-feet, the subject initially attempts to locate the source of the invisible mystery odor. Dejected and slightly ill-feeling, the subject removes the offensive Jack Russell to an outdoor location, where the odor can be dissapated and the cause, uh, well, eliminated. Subject, now in a state of disorientation, returns to the room, initially attempts to begin the film and satisfy the visual-breast desire (as first identified by Dr. H. Hefner et. al., 1953, Mammary Glands and Effects on Periodical Sales in the United States), however finds he cannot continue. Subject now reports smelling dog bowels, even when no dog is present, when exposed images of Sharon Stone.
Conclusion
The phenomenom identified in classical conditioning seems at work here: the Subject initally wanted to see breasts, even to the point of exposing himself to a possibly brain-damagingly bad film, and even if belonging to an evil countess who must bathe in the blood of virgins just to maintain a career. However, after several doses of dog flatulence, the Subject loses all desire to look at breasts and instead returns the film unwatched and eats a sandwich. The effect, however, seems to be short-lasting and tied to the behavior present at the time of the aversive stimulus introduction- Subject was later observed Googling "naked Jennifer Connelly" on the home personal computer only 3 hours after the commencement of the experiment. Additional study is warrented.
In conclusion, it appears canine flatulence is, of all the foul smells that a canine has the potential to excrete from their body, one that is very effective for the short-term modification of behavior. It also appears that "Basic Instinct 2: The Vaginer Strikes Back" sucks.
Here is a non-scratch and sniff picture of my dog looking cute with a piece of wrapping paper hanging out of his mouth in an attempt to remove the lingering odor of the previous blog post
