What's in store for you?

Some of you may not have accepted Allah into your lives. You may be on the fence. Heaven sounds nice, you may think, but Hell can't be that bad. Well let me tell you, friends, today I visited perhaps the closest thing this mortal coil has to Hell. And I would not wish such an eternal fate on anyone. You see, Wal-Mart Supercenter on a Sunday afternoon is pure Hell on Earth. If you want to see what awaits you should you live out your days as a heathen, venture to the house that Sam Walton built. And do so on a Sunday afternoon. You will surely shudder. Don't spend eternity waiting for a large woman on a cellphone to move her shopping cart out of the middle of the aisle, narrowly avoiding being crushed by oblivious store employees hauling a pallet of paper towels, listening to children scream, cringing as husbands cry. Live a righteous, God-fearing life, and then you can look forward to a Wal-Mart-free afterlife.

After my harrowing excursion to Wal-Mart, I treated myself to a trip to the dog park. Following a hard week of fire-and-brimstone evangelizing, it's good to go someplace to let off some steam -- to sniff and be sniffed. I made some new friends, including a fuzzy black dog that was kind enough to chase me, a rambunctious boxer puppy and a pug named Elmo with a monstrous underbite. For the most part, the dogs were friendly and respectful. But to that little white dog with the black face, remember: No means no.

Big news from across the pond

It is a proud day for Pug Life Ministries. One of our own, Torres, has been named the Westminster dog of the year. The competition pitted the dogs of 16 British politicians against one another, with the canines judged on their good deeds and behavior. Conservative Parliament member Tony Baldry, Torres' caretaker, described the champion pug thusly: "Torres is a great dog who loves to be fussed over and make people smile. ... I find him very useful when I visit elderly people's homes as he is a very good hoover for crumbs." Torres plans to attend theological school and eventually become a cleric in Pug Life's Muslim wing. May Allah continue to smile upon you, Torres.

New hope for Lance Ito

Harriet Miers is no longer a Supreme Court nominee. I am pleased with this development, as it will allow her to devote more time to her TV roles.

A good time was had by all

Pug-O-Ween was Sunday, and it was everything I'd hoped for. I won over scores of new converts to the Pug Life way. However, I did not win a trophy. The "iPug," a dog dressed as an iPod, won the prize for best costume in my age group. Naturally, a horde of angry Pug Life followers gathered in the corner of the gymnasium, torches and pitchforks in paw. But I persuaded them to forgo their righteous vengeance. The human judges were clearly trying to divide us -- to take our minds off the struggle for voting rights -- and we could not allow that to happen. My grandparents and great-grandmother attended, as did a couple of my human friends. I consider all to be honorary pugs, and it was good to see them. I was particularly enthralled by a young black pug dressed provocatively as a hula dancer. The harem invitation is in the mail.

They deserved better

They circled you excitedly after you picked up the leash, eagerly awaiting their jaunt outdoors. They could barely hold still as you clasped the leash to their collar. This was the day they had been waiting for. You had to open the door slowly as they strained to get out, a glimmer of daylight beckoning them onward. They kept a quick pace as they strode down the sidewalk, blocking out the smells that would normally distract them. They would not stop at that light pole today; they were on a mission. As they rounded the corner and spotted their destination, they began to pull. You nearly lost your grip on the leash and had to jog a few steps to keep up. A kind man in a suit held the door as they walked in, their eyes wide with excitement. They smiled broadly, in that way that only a dog can, as you picked up your ballot. "What, just one?" they thought. "Well, I'm sure I'll be next." Then you walked into the booth and made your selections. "Come on, boy. Let's go," you said. They tried futilely to hold their ground, their nails scratching the tile floor. But you pulled too hard on the leash. Dejected, they followed you home. They thought it was their time. They'd spent months researching the issues, getting to know the candidates. But you, the fool who voted for Gerhard Schroeder -- they would have never voted for Gerhard Schroeder! -- were the only one who would cast a ballot. Shame on you, Germans.

Not that I'm hoping for another ...

It has come to my attention that the formation of Hurricane Wilma has exhausted this year's list of assigned storm names. Should Allah decide to swirl up another storm, it would be given the uninspiring name "Alpha." This is fine for a tropical depression or a tropical storm, but for anything stronger, it simply will not do. I propose that in the event of another mighty tempest, we use the name "Hurricane Mugsy." It has a nice, ferocious ring to it, doesn't it?

Cat chase fever

While conducting services at my mosque over the weekend, I was asked by a young pug if it is permissible for a good Muslim dog to chase cats. This young pug was quite energetic, as puppies generally are, and he chased the family cat as a way to let off some steam. I told the pug -- and I will tell you now -- that it is, indeed, permissible under Islam to chase cats, provided it is done in moderation. As we know, cats tend to be lazy creatures who lie around all day. Their intelligence, when compared with the noble canine, is also sorely lacking. So it is our duty to ensure that these cats get their daily exercise. It is also our right to use these dumb animals for our purposes. But we must not go too far. As the Prophet Muhammad said, "Fear God in treating dumb animals, and ride them when they are fit to be ridden, and get off them when they are tired."

Opportunity barks

Greetings, my faithful flock. I am hurting today. I believe I pulled a muscle in my back while changing my mother's tire early Saturday. Why she would call a pug to fix her flat tire, I do not know. But there is some good news that has kept my spirits up. My sources tell me that the alluring Shelby, that lovely German giantess, has moved into a palatial new home. I am quite happy for my behemoth beauty, and I look forward to visiting her at her new estate. But that is not all. My operatives also tell me that Shelby appears to be newly single. Her old flame, Gorilla, was spotted nursing a nasty wound, his face apparently bitten off by the enchanting Shelby in a fit of rage. And this ayatollah is ready to swoop in to comfort her in her time of need. Certainly, seeing Gorilla's mangled mug is reason for pause. Shelby does outweigh me by well over 100 pounds. But I don't believe that such violence will be an issue. Once she has realized all that my harem has to offer, she will come around. And besides, I am far more charming than Gorilla. Honestly, I don't know what she ever saw in him.

So hungry

I know I shouldn't be saying this, but I despise Ramadan. Ten hours until sunset, and I'm already starving. I'm sure Allah will not mind if I just chew on this bone ...

Batpug unveiled

As requested, here is a preview of my Pug-O-Ween garb (my cowl is slightly askew in the photo on the right). I thoroughly enjoyed wearing this costume over the weekend -- so much so that I donned my Bark Knight uniform last night and thwarted two muggings and a carjacking. Of course, there is still work to be done. I need some velcro to keep my cape in place and some additional accessories for my utility belt -- perhaps some rawhide Bat-a-rangs. But this should give you an idea of what you'll see if you attend Pug-O-Ween and look toward the winner's circle. And fear not, ladies, the beard will grow back quickly.

Costume is ready

I have chosen my Pug-O-Ween garb, and my team of personal seamstresses has tailored it to my exact specifications. The costume performed well in two separate focus groups.

Mugsy declares national day of mourning

Saturday was a tragic day for our nation, a day the likes of which we had not seen in this millennium. The Oklahoma Sooners lost to the Texas Longhorns. And it was ugly. And so I hereby declare Sunday, Oct. 9, 2005, to be a national day of mourning. We shall reflect upon this most humbling of events, and we shall pray that Bob Stoops has not lost his mojo but has merely misplaced it temporarily. And then we shall move on to the Jayhawks and thrash them mercilessly. Enjoy it while you can, Longhorns, because next year, God willing, we start a new winning streak.

What to wear?

My excitement is building, oh furry and not-so-furry disciples. Pug-O-Ween is just over two weeks away. The annual event is a fundraiser for the DFW Pug Rescue Club. I have wanted to attend in the past, but I have always had other commitments -- sermons, rap concerts, panty heists, etc. But this year I have cleared my schedule, and, God willing, I will be there on Oct. 23 along with a couple hundred other costumed pugs. My grandparents and great-grandmother are even talking about coming from out of town to attend. But here's my problem: I don't know what to wear. Some have suggested that I simply go as myself, with my trademark turban and distinguished beard. Frankly, I found this a bit offensive. No, I will wear a costume, and if I need to shave my beard to complete the look, I will do so. After all, it is for a good cause. So I come to you, dear readers, to seek your suggestions for a prize-winning Pug-O-Ween costume. I have a couple of ideas, but I'd like to see if anyone can come up with something better. If I use your costume idea, you will receive a personalized, autographed photo of me in the championship garb.

Enough!

I have just hung up the phone after another infuriatingly pointless call from the Great Satan that is Comcast. My frustrations began in May, when I was overbilled by more than $200 (the Great Satan charged long-distance for all the local phone calls). Comcast's incompetence has continued unabated. Every month, I am incorrectly billed. Every month, I call, wait on the phone and am told, "Oops. Yes, just pay the $22.54." Now I am told that I have an overdue balance, though the caller could not articulate exactly what that balance encompassed. Has anyone else had problems with this shoddy operation? Needless to say, I have arranged to switch to SBC. I only wish that I had done so sooner. I urge all other Comcast customers to join me in boycotting this corporate buffoon. May Comcast feel the wrath of the Pug Nation!

The word is spreading

I spotted this story on the news wire:


RICHARDSON, Texas (AP) -- For the first time in decades, Eugenia Jenkins is standing up straight. And she says she owes it all to a mysterious local cleric and her experience in a sweltering pup tent.

Jenkins, 68, said she had suffered from acute abdominal pains since the late 1960s.

"The doctors were baffled," the Allen resident said. "They said there was nothing they could do. I was in such pain, I prayed every day for the Lord to take me. Then Ayatollah Mugsy came along and saved my life."

Jenkins, who says she is now completely pain-free, said she met the imam at Ayatollah Mugsy's Islamic Revival and Carnival, a traveling road show that set up on the University of Texas at Dallas campus in Richardson on Sept. 25.

"Some friends urged me to try it," Jenkins said. "I was skeptical, but I was willing to try anything."

She said that shortly after her arrival at the Dogloo-shaped tent set up near UTD's School of Management, she was taken to an altar in front of the crowd.

"The crowd began to chant, "Mugsy! Mugsy! Mugsy!" Jenkins said. "Then smoke filled the stage, and out came the ayatollah. He was much shorter than I expected. He barked, and the room fell silent. His helpers lifted him up onto my table, and he loomed over me. He nudged my shirt up, leaving my midriff bare. Then he began to lick my belly button intensely."

Jenkins said the licking continued for at least five minutes.

"It tickled at first, but then I began to feel the pain leave my body," she said. "When he finished and jumped down off of the altar, I was healed. I had forgotten what it was like to stand up straight, with no pain."

Bob Mungro of Garland, who attended the revival, said that Jenkins wasn't the only person healed by the ayatollah.

"Mugsy cured a blind man. He healed a boy with leg braces. That pug is the real deal," he said.

Ayatollah Mugsy declined to comment, but a spokesman for his ministry directed readers to his Web site, ayatollahmugsy.blogspot.com.

The revival, sponsored by Pug Life Ministries, will be at the University of Texas at Arlington campus on Saturday.

Future revivals are planned in Norman, Okla.; Oklahoma City; Edmond, Okla.; Tulsa; Lawrence, Kan.; Columbia, Mo.; Fayetteville, Ark.; Murfreesboro, Tenn.; Knoxville, Tenn.; Tuscaloosa, Ala.; Shreveport, La.; Baton Rouge, La.; and College Station.

So touching

This poem brought a tear to my eye.

Bennett's comments

Former education secretary William Bennett provoked quite an uproar recently when he said that the crime rate could be reduced by aborting black babies. Would such an unthinkable action really reduce the crime rate? Maybe; maybe not. In my view, we've overlooked what is truly important by focusing on these comments. If people of all races were to abort all babies, would that reduce the crime rate? Certainly; the crime rate would eventually reach zero. But again, that's not really the point. The important thing to remember is that if we were to abort all of the puppies, this world would be a much less happy place. Remember that, humans, and then give us the voting rights that we have been deprived of for so long.