Eyelids ... growing ... heavy ...

It has been another exhausting day at the ministry, my flock. I have been perusing some real estate for a possible purchase for the Dogloo mosque, in addition to my usual scholarly and spiritual duties. Allah's work is never done, you know.

Thankfully, I have young Wendell to keep me company and share in my burden.

Let us pray

I would like to thank Conan the Chihuahua for bringing some much-needed publicity to the Buddhist wing of Pug Life Ministries. Although, frankly, I find the first paragraph of this story about the praying pooch to be a bit condescending.

Mugsy condemns 'Wheel of Fortune'

I cannot take anymore, my flock. Every time a letter is correctly chosen on Wheel of Fortune, that infernal "ding" sound sets my hackles on edge. I cannot help but bark my disapproval as each square illuminates. Consonant, vowel -- it makes no difference. In the hands of this evil game show, all the letters of the alphabet torment me.

Judging from this video I found on YouTube, I am not alone in my indignant rage. So I have launched a campaign to remove this filth from the airwaves. God willing, the infidel Pat Sajak and his hussy henchwoman Vanna White will be stopped.

Hoops contest update

I have received some questions and comments on the Pug Life Ministries NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament Bracket Challenge "Take On the Ayatollah" Contest™, so I want to briefly touch on a few points.

Someone asked whether this violated canine Islam's prohibition against gambling (which is not to be confused with prudent casino investing). This contest is not the same as those illegal underground office betting pools you may have heard about. It is free to enter this contest, so you are wagering nothing. We are simply playing for fun, and perhaps, God willing, a prize or two.

It was also pointed out to me that ESPN.com has been rather buggy lately, and sometimes clicking on the contest entry link results in an error message. I urge the infidels at ESPN to get this fixed promptly, lest they risk incurring my eternal wrath. If you have encountered this problem, I urge you to try again later.

Finally, my little brother Wendell is, indeed, filling out a bracket. I suspect he will be a natural when it comes to picking basketball games. With his long limbs and slender build, Wendell bears a striking resemblance to former UNLV and NBA star Stacey Augmon, a.k.a. the Plastic Man.

NCAA Tournament contest

Last night, I received a plea from one of the ministry's congregants, who also happens to be a decorated member of the Armed Revolutionary Forces. "Mugsy, great spiritual leader," Braxton barked, "will we be doing the NCAA BB bracket challenge this year?"

And the answer is yes. The Pug Life Ministries NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament Bracket Challenge "Take On the Ayatollah" Contest™ is back by popular demand. All entries must be in before the first game tips off Thursday morning. Prizes include $10,000 and a gift from the ministry's online store.

Click here to join the Pug Life Ministries group and fill out your bracket.

Having a ball

It has been a busy weekend here at the ayatollah compound. Rabbi Jake came to visit, and he brought some of my relatives and followers along with him. The big event -- and the primary reason for his visit -- occurred Saturday night, when Rabbi Jake was the special guest barker at the inaugural Ayatollah Mugsy Scouts Spring Cotillion. It was a splendid evening -- an occasion to honor the girls who sold the most Mugsy Scout cookies throughout the year. They all dressed up in their finest gowns and enjoyed an evening of well-mannered song and dance with their canine escorts. (My little brother, Wendell, was quite a hit, as he dances a mean foxtrot.)

As the festivities began, each Scout was presented with a merit badge, as well as a rawhide necklace to ensure that even the homeliest child had no trouble finding a dance partner.

Presidential politics

In recent days, the news media have begun to focus intently on my relationship with one of the leading presidential candidates, who has called me a longtime spiritual adviser. The media have seized upon some comments made in my fiery sermons, calling them controversial. There have been insinuations that I am some kind of nefarious influence, pulling the puppet strings to ensure that this candidate furthers the canine Muslim agenda. So I am here to set the record straight.

The fact that I have preached about the virtues of canine secession does not mean that this presidential hopeful shares these views. Nor does it mean that the candidate does not share these views (wink, wink).

Mugsy honors heroes

It has been a long time since I last had reason to award the ministry's highest human honor, the Pug Life Medal of Valor. But the recent actions of two men have reaffirmed my faith in a small pocket of humankind. Let the record show that a grateful canine nation honors the bravery of these two men.

RANDY EARL: When the West Virginian's small boat capsized as he was fishing with his dog Lacy, a black spaniel mix, he stayed in the 50-degree water with his life jacket while making sure Lacy was OK. "I put the dog on top of the boat," the 53-year-old said. When a state trooper arrived to rescue him, Earl asked the trooper to save the dog first.

STEPHEN (ODIE) ODOM: The Louisiana firefighter rescued two tiny terriers from a smoke-filled room during a fire last Friday. After noticing that one was not breathing, Odom removed his face mask and placed the dog's head inside so the oxygen could blow in its face. He then used his CPR training, including mouth-to-snout resuscitation, to revive the dog. Five minutes later, the dog began looking around and was returned to the owner of the house. Fire officials said they didn't know the dog's name. "We could just call it 'Lucky,"' said one official.

If any among you should happen upon these two brave men, I urge you to give them a pat on the back, or a rub on the belly. They embody the spirit of Pug Life Ministries. Thank you, Randy and Stephen. Copious amounts of rawhide surely await you both in heaven.

Mugsy issues fatwa for travelers

During my recent travels, I encountered a wide range of airport security measures. There was the anti-liquid bent of the Americans, who apparently believe that saline solution and Diet Coke can bring down a plane. There was the overzealous bag-searching and overly friendly body-patting of the Germans, who needed five minutes to deduce that my father's eyeglass case was not a threat. And there was the refreshing yet somewhat alarming laxity of the Italians, who didn't so much as stamp my passport despite my nearly two weeks in their fair country.

All of us who have flown have experienced the long lines and frustrating waits (especially when scrambling to make a connecting flight) that these security measures produce. But I am here to tell you, my flock, that it does not have to be this way. Humans bring much of this misery upon themselves through their lack of preparation. I stood by, dumbfounded, as traveler after traveler took the slowest path possible through the security line. What could have been a 10-minute wait routinely became a 30-minute wait. But I say "no more!" It is time to demand better. It is time to breeze through the security line in time to buy some #*@&#* Reese's Pieces before take-off! The infidels who slow us all down have left me no choice but to issue a fatwa!! Henceforth, the following rules must be observed by all travelers -- for the betterment of all animalkind.

1. If you see that security is requiring people to take off their shoes, do so before you reach the front of the line. Walking 10 feet in your socks won't hurt you.
2. When going through a metal detector, do not wait until you reach the machine to start fumbling around and putting your belongings in the little bowl security provides. Take all your metal-containing objects -- coins, keys, phone, watch, belt -- and place them in a carry-on bag or zip-up coat pocket before you reach the front of the line. Then you need only send that one item through the metal detector while you walk through alarm-free.
3. Yes, take off your metal-buckled belt. Even if it didn't set off the detector in Toledo.

Home, at last

I am back at the ayatollah compound after an Italian adventure that included two flight cancellations and an unplanned journey to Oklahoma City, hastily arranged to avoid spending a night at Washington Dulles airport. My entourage and I arrived back in our Dallas-area abode in a borrowed car late Saturday. And what indignity then awaited me? I found that I was to be cruelly stripped of an hour of sleep that night by Daylight Saving Time. If ever there was any doubt that this nation is controlled by corrupt corporate interests, proof can surely be found in the timing of this time change. It strikes right at the heart of the holy pug trinity of sleeping, eating and chewing. What should have been a glorious hour of sleep is now gone forever, as is a cherished hour of weekend cuddling time.

When I am caliph of Pugistan, God willing, we will spring forward at 4 o'clock on a Monday afternoon.

Art-filled day

I come to you today from under a Tuscan sun, my flock, although it is somewhat obscured at the moment by rainclouds. This morning, I visited the world-famous Uffizi art gallery, and then I traveled north to the Accademia gallery, where I saw Michelangelo's David. Never before had I been so impressed by the sight of a naked man, my flock. Let me amend that. Never before had I been impressed by the sight of a naked man. But it was truly a marvel -- it must have stood 20 feet above the floor.

Of all the wonders I have seen in Italy, one sight still eludes me. I have yet to spot an Italian pug. Tomorrow, Wendell and I will travel to Pisa in hopes of salvaging this trip. And perhaps we will offer some architectural advice on a certain crooked tower. Allah be with you.

Wendell's travel journal

Wendell here. Big bro is busy sniffing the Italian women. Earlier, he visited the grave site of some guy named Machiavelli. Said it was one of his heroes. I don't know about that, but I like Florence. Gelato, yum!

Buongiorno from Venice

Greetings, my flock. I am writing you from an Internet cafe near Piazza San Marco in Venice, where I have spent the last several days. The Italians have far more progressive views on canine rights than many of us are accustomed to. It is common to see dogs here in bakeries and cafes. I even spoke with a large Weimeraner in a Coin department store. Like me, he was eyeballing the women's lingerie. I asked no questions, and neither did he. So it was a good talk.

Not only are the canines here afforded rights nearly equal to the humans, but they also all seem to wear designer doggy coats -- Prada, Gucci, etc. Had America's inept human ruling class not destroyed the value of the once-mighty dollar, perhaps I would be able to afford such luxuries. Instead, I am forced to wear only my modest turban and gold-encrusted medallion.

A couple of days ago, I toured the Doge's Palace, where I studied the ways of the Venetian aristocracy and government. This should prove most beneficial as we transition to the canine rule of Pugistan. Already, I am drawing up plans for a Grand Inquisitor's Council to investigate treachery and other infidel acts. If you believe you are sufficiently ruthless, you may submit your resume via e-mail.

My Internet time is nearly up, so I must wander on, my flock. Arrivederci, and Allah be with you.

The photos I promised

Last week, I promised to post photos of our canine Valentine's Day party in return for your Valentine's haikus. Unfortunately, we pugs had to leave town unexpectedly last weekend. That left us without access to our computer, and thus, unable to post. But I am a pug of my word. So here, without further adieu, is a brief photo album of our party day.


I meditated with Wendell to prepare him for the upcoming kissing contest. "Focus," I told him. "Let your lips become one with Allah."

The competition was fierce.

Among the competitors was a rabbit, whom Wendell attempted to psych out with his wide-eyed stare.

Unfortunately, Wendell's efforts came up just short. This woman and her little white dog were declared the winners after a long and lusty smooch that made this cleric more than a bit uncomfortable. Notice that they share the same hairdo.

But Wendell continued to practice his craft. "Next time ..." he barked.

And his loss in the kissing contest couldn't spoil our day -- PetCo gave us free canine cookies to decorate. I had planned to list all the members of my harem, but I was told there wasn't enough peanut butter icing.

Mugsy announces contest winners

Happy Valentine's Day, beloved congregants of Pug Life Ministries. As Cupid fires his tasty rawhide arrows, I now present to you the winners of our Valentine's Day Haiku Contest, along with some other notable entries. Thank you to all who submitted poems for this noble endeavor. It was a fine field of entries, and judging was most difficult. The top two finishers may send me their mailing addresses to receive prizes.

FIRST PLACE

-----

"Ayatollah Pug"

Infidel slayer

Barking the word of Allah

With breath of rawhide

- JMG

SECOND PLACE

-----

Aloft Texas Winds
Hearts Soar With Admiration
Mugsy So Deserves

- Eagle

HONORABLE MENTION

-----

Such is the Great Mugs
Faithful will even eat bugs
For the love of Mugs

- Gypsy Rose

-----

"The Dream"

Pugistan, Rawhide

Nation, led by fierce Mugsy

From his Dogloo mosque

- JMG

-----

"Justice"

Infidel Blue Bull

Suffered wrath; pug hung him out

On banana hook

- JMG

-----

"Enlightenment"

Panty raids lead to

Jailtime conversion, pug once

Bad now enlightened

- JMG

-----

Italian stallion

humping Venus De Milo

Mugsy arrested

- Nevis

-----

Your heavy breathing
makes you unsuitable for
hide-and-seek, but cute

- Mugsy's Mother

-----

my brother also
makes a very nice pillow
for afternoon naps

- Wendell

NOT QUITE A HAIKU, BUT STILL WORTHY OF RECOGNITION

-----

Ayatollah, I have a mole-a.

Only you can heal it.

Stike a pose, wave your wand,

and I shall be whole-a...

- Rusty

-----

Ayatollah Mugsy sizzles

rain or shine

plentiful rawhide

jessica simpson

in short mini

Great Mugsy the leader

blesses his flock

hot harem

graces the world

leading the way

- Cleveland

Trouble in Tuscany

As I mentioned a while back, I will soon be traveling to Italy. It is the low season for tourism there, but a little cold weather will not deter me. After all, I have a thick fur coat to keep me warm. After a week in Venice, my travels will take me to Florence, the birthplace of the Renaissance. I have long been an admirer of the ideals of this period -- the explosion of great art, architecture and, especially, Machiavellian wisdom. So visiting this Tuscan capital is the source of much excitement for me.

But I am aware of the very real danger that Florence poses. Some who travel there succumb to the dreaded Stendhal syndrome -- an affliction affecting those overcome by the city's artwork and intense beauty. Symptoms can include dizziness, fainting and hallucinations. Honestly, it is a wonder that tourists continue to visit this den of danger.

In preparation for my travels, I have been taking in the artful masterpieces of ObeyThePureBreed.com, hoping to build up an immunity before I face the Florentine menace. I will stay strong, my flock. I intend to stare Florence in the eye, and God willing, I will do so without being driven mad.

Valentine's Day contest

Valentine's Day is fast approaching, my flock. This is always a stressful time for me, with so many of my harem mates angling for my affections. But this year, it is doubly stressful. In addition to the pressures of this pagan holiday, I am facing an impending nomination deadline for the Nobel Peace Prize. This will be my fourth straight year to enter, and this time, God willing, I intend to win. But I cannot do it without your help.

I have come to the conclusion that the missing piece in my application is an impartial accounting of my greatness. Certainly, I try to paint a picture for the judges, in my own modest way. But I suspect that they do not understand the depths of devotion my teachings inspire. They have not heard from the heathens I saved, the lepers I healed. So I invite you, dear readers, to augment my Nobel Prize application with your own testimonial, in the form of a romantic Valentine's Day haiku.

A source tells me that this is how Al Gore won the most recent prize, and its accompanying cash award. But I am not requiring anyone to take part. You will not be excommunicated if you choose not to document your love for me and the ministry. But those who take part will be entered in a contest for a fabulous prize from the ministry's gift shop.

To enter, send your Valentine's Day haiku to ayatollahmugsy@gmail.com or send me a message on my MySpace page or my new Facebook page. Please put "haiku" in the subject line. The deadline to enter is 10 a.m. Thursday.

If I receive a sufficient number of entries, I will post photos of the Valentine's Day party I attended over the weekend in which young Wendell competed in a slobber-filled contest for the title of best kisser.

Mugsy condemns commercial

As longtime readers of my teachings well know, I am a distinguished afficionado of undergarments. But I can no longer condone a certain television advertisement for Hanes. Why, oh mighty Allah, would Michael Jordan give Cuba Gooding Jr. underwear? And why would the actor then scream across the room, "I'm wearing your underwear!"? This is the greatest basketball player of his generation, an athlete whom my father once drove 12 hours one-way to watch in a playoff game. Are we expected to believe that he doles out undergarments to B-list actors? No! No, I say! The absurdity of it boggles the mind. So I am left with no choice. I hereby issue a fatwa! This ridiculous commercial must never be allowed to air again.

Anyone violating this binding religious decree will suffer loss of undergarments, among other harsh penalties.

All ears

Cleanliness holds a special place in canine Islam. This is why I have grudgingly consented to my monthly baths and occasional nail trimmings. And for many years, my cleaning ritual included mother giving a thorough scrubbing to my ears. This was most unpleasant, my flock, and I suspect that she derived a certain sadistic pleasure from it. But thankfully, mother's ear-cleansing ritual is no longer necessary. Ever since Wendell joined our family, my ears have been spotless. The young pug's slender, serpentine tongue has proven capable of reaching every nook and cranny of my silky-smooth auditory appendages. May Allah watch over you, my brother, and may your taste for wax never wane.

At last, Sister Bella surfaces

WASHINGTON (AP) -- Bella the Chihuahua, the tiny dog who brought big fears to the Mexican countryside during her 2006 reign of terror, has been ordered held indefinitely without trial at a high-security military brig, sources said Thursday.

One military official, speaking on condition of anonymity, said the dog was deemed too much of a threat to be allowed in the conventional criminal justice system.

"We are in a war on terror," the official said, "and this dog personifies terror."

Rights groups have traditionally condemned such indefinite detentions and suspensions of habeas corpus. But in this instance, they were largely silent.

One lawyer with the American Civil Liberties Union, who asked to remain anonymous, said his group understood the government's position in holding the highly dangerous, shriek-prone Chihuahua.

"Clearly, she is a menace to all within earshot," he said.

Busy week

It has been over a week since my last post, my flock. It always weighs heavy on my soul when the congregants of Pug Life Ministries are forced to go a prolonged period without my divine guidance, especially in these trying times. But as you can see in the photos below, I have been rather busy.




In addition to the marathon puggyback napping sessions that Wendell and I have engaged in (and they truly are a daily occurrence), here is a recap of some of the events that escaped my blogging attention:

• Wendell recently went under the knife, at the urging of our veterinarian and the great Game-Show Prophet Bob Barker, peace be upon him. Perhaps Wendell's recent outbursts of violence served as a reminder to our parents that the time was right. Or maybe the operation had already been scheduled. In any case, young Wendell recovered quickly from this unkindest cut. As soon as he returned to the ayatollah compound, he proceeded to dash around like a madpug, showing no ill effects whatsoever from this surgery that surely would have felled a human male for days on end. If anything, Wendell seemed to be faster and more energetic, no longer weighed down by any unnecessary appendages. Like yours truly, Wendell appears to be plenty virile to overcome such surgical intervention.
• I met with members of Congress and the Treasury Department this week to lobby for $300 tax rebates for each canine family member in America. Sadly, because of this country's entrenched bias against dogs, the Washington establishment rejected my pleas and agreed only on payments for human children. The infidels. Someday, under the glorious blue skies of Pugistan, they will learn the error of their ways.
• Finally, I have been busy making arrangements for a hastily planned vacation. This entailed, among other things, buying plane tickets, making lodging arrangements, checking on train schedules, and, of course, ensuring that I will have a security team and entourage befitting my stature as leader of the world's largest interfaith, interspecies ministry. In less than a month, I will set paw in Venice as I embark on a long-awaited Italian holiday. Praise Allah! Let us pray that the acqua alta does not force me to put my superb dog-paddling skills to use.

Lies ... all lies

DALLAS (AP) -- A photographer working for OK! Magazine said he was viciously assaulted Thursday by a pug in the entourage of religious icon Ayatollah Mugsy.

The paparazzi cameraman, who witnesses said had been hounding the famed cleric all evening, identified the assailant as Mugsy's younger brother, Wendell. He said the black pug grabbed his camera and threw it to the ground before stomping on it with his ultra-long legs and then running in circles in a menacing manner.

"All the while, the ayatollah just stood by, smirking," said James Thompson, 44. "He wasn't gonna do nothing to help me. I became disoriented. I thought I was gonna die of dizziness after watching that pug."

Police said they were investigating the incident. It wasn't the first time Ayatollah Mugsy's Pug Life Ministries had been involved in a run-in with the paparazzi. Mugsy was accused of attacking a tabloid photographer in December 2006, although no charges were ever filed.

Late Thursday, TV host Phil McGraw, a.k.a. "Dr. Phil," was reportedly turned away from the ayatollah's North Texas compound after making an unannounced visit to check on the alleged assailant. "I believe he may have rage issues," said McGraw, who appeared to be nursing a bite mark on his lower leg.

Wendell's rebellion

I am a little concerned about my brother, my flock. It seems that Wendell is filled with adolescent angst. During a recent rawhide-chewing session, he growled at father when he came near. This struck me as odd, because unlike yours truly, father does not have a history of "borrowing" bones. To my knowledge, he has never even known the pleasure of the leathery flesh. The poor, deprived man.

Mugsy weighs in on presidential race

Today's lesson, my flock, is on American politics. You might think that a disenfranchised pug such as myself, denied the right to vote based solely on my canine DNA, would have little interest in the presidential race and its corresponding media coverage. But I have kept a close eye on the proceedings -- if for no other reason than to know what not to do as I establish the Pugistani political system.

The way the electoral process is conducted, and the way the media influence it, is in my view damaging to the democratic process. Take Mitt Romney, for example. Many pundits have declared that he will be all but out of the race if he doesn't win today's Republican primary in Michigan. After all, he only finished second in the sparsely populated states of Iowa and New Hampshire. What you rarely, if ever, hear from the pundits is that Romney is actually leading the GOP race in delegates. Many state races are not winner-take-all, but you'd never know that if you strictly listened to the media talking heads.

Now let us look at the Democratic race. Hillary Rodham Clinton was said to be in grave danger after her third-place finish in Iowa, while Barack Obama's popularity was skyrocketing. Then, after her win in the New Hampshire primary, the pundits acted as if Clinton had stormed past Obama in the race. Let us be honest here: All we can glean from these results is that Iowans showed a slight preference for Obama, while those in New Hampshire leaned toward Clinton. And in any case, the vote was close enough in New Hampshire that Clinton and Obama actually won the same amount of delegates in the state. But again, you'd never know that from reading or listening to the so-called experts in the popular media.

I bring these points up not to bolster any particular candidate. This blog is nonpartisan, reflecting my beliefs that the U.S. government is merely there to serve as a placeholder and tax-collecting apparatus for the eventual establishment of a canine Muslim state. But it is my hope that the faithful of Pug Life Ministries will look upon these proceedings with the kind of perspective that is sorely lacking in most election coverage. For the sake of making every vote count and every voice heard, the primary race should be a long, drawn-out process -- regardless of whether the pundits and party bosses want to wrap it up quickly.

To make blanket statements on the election based on the results in Iowa and New Hampshire, whose combined population is smaller than the Dallas-Fort Worth metro area, is ludicrous. It is roughly the equivalent of trying to crown the winner of an NBA basketball game based on who scores the first free throw.

Monitoring the faithful

As members of the Armed Revolutionary Forces were conducting a routine search of your home (do not be alarmed; it is for your own protection), they came across an unacceptably grimy computer screen. Don't you ever clean that thing? As we all know, cleanliness is next to dogliness. So the ministry has made arrangements to have your monitor properly scrubbed. Please follow the link below at your earliest convenience.

CLICK HERE TO INITIATE AUTOMATED MONITOR-CLEANING PROGRAM

A letter to the ayatollah at age 13

A few weeks ago, I was tagged by the Wandering Gypsy Princess to complete a meme. The rules: Imagine you could send a letter to yourself at 13 years old. What would you write to yourself? For the typical human blogger, this is a letter of reflection, of looking back. But for me, this is an exercise in clairvoyance. After all, I am only halfway to age 13. So let us now look into the future ...

Dear Self,

I hope this letter finds you well, for I did not know which of your many estates to address it to. No longer are you confined to one paltry compound in the Dallas suburbs.

But I see that that treasured spot in the original ayatollah compound -- the place over the mantle -- now holds not one but two Nobel Peace Prizes. Congratulations; though it took the humans far too long to recognize your contributions, they finally saw the light. Your divine leadership paved the way for peace in the Middle East, stability in Africa and the seas running white with the spilled cotton of infidel chew toys. After all, peace is not for everyone.

Where your blog was once read by only tens of thousands of humans, it is now read by billions. Under penalty of hard labor and public lashings. Praise Allah! Your leadership is grand, ayatollah. Finally, you have consolidated power as you knew you would. You are universally hailed as the greatest canine leader the world has ever known -- more powerful even than the legendary mongrel warlord Rover Khan, who terrorized the Central Asian steppes centuries earlier.

The borders of Pugistan now extend far beyond your once-wildest dreams. Your social reforms, while initially controversial, have proven to be beneficial for the collective soul of the planet. Your fatwa banning most reality TV, and especially anything involving dancing, was a stroke of genius and a victory for the faithful of Pug Life Ministries.

Ayatollah, I see that despite your advancing age, you are still as handsome as ever. Your beard is perhaps a tad whiter, but your chiseled physique continues to inspire awe among males and amorous desires among women. You are the Jack LaLanne of pugs, but without that peculiar blue jumpsuit.

Lest I make your life sound too rosy, it is important to recall the difficulties you have faced. Greatness, after all, is a product of adversity. It has been a monumental struggle, fraught with hard labor by your underlings, to expand your harem at the needed pace. As the miles-long waiting list attests, many fetching concubines are still left out in the cold. But to your credit, you persevere. The Hollywood starlets have been hit especially hard. In your infinite wisdom, you established a harem timeshare program, so that no truly deserving lass would be turned away. Yet some were understandably upset by their limited petting time. The actress Dakota Fanning took it especially hard, but you told her she had to stay strong -- she had to set a good example for the younger concubines.

Peace and rawhide be upon you,

Your 6-year-old self, Mugsy

Half-baked miracle

I have just gotten off the phone with my good friend and business associate Pope Pius Pug, who asked me to use my Texas connections to help him look into a potential miracle. It seems that a woman in Houston claims to have found a sacred spud.

After a preliminary investigation, I told the pontiff that I had quite frankly seen far more impressive starchy miracles in my day. But you know how the pope is -- once he has his mind set on something, he will not be deterred. So I told him I would keep my eyes peeled for further evidence.

Mugsy appeals for decency

I was very disturbed by this news story. A Dallas pug named Scooter has been dognapped and given to a little girl as a gift by her mother, who sent Scooter's caretakers a note and $20. The woman, possibly from Tulsa, Okla., wrote that she was nearly penniless and an alcoholic but that the dog was being well taken care of. Clearly, this is beside the point. Scooter belongs with his family in Dallas. So on the off chance that this woman or someone who might know her is reading, I want to appeal for decency. The rightful caretakers have even offered to buy the woman's daughter a new pug if they can just have their own dog back. Here is a letter from one of the pug's caretakers.

Please, send Scooter home.

Along for the ride

I have seen and done many things in my years on this blessed orb. I toured cities large and small as a gangsta rapper, collecting undergarments of all shapes and sizes. I sailed to ports both glorious and grimy with the merchant marines. I worked at a vineyard in Tuscany, stomping grapes until my legs were stained a pleasing shade of lavender. And then, after my jailhouse religious awakening, I took my hajj pilgrimage, where I joined a sea of other white-clad canines in the sacred Stoning of the Devil ritual. For good measure, and to show him who's boss, I left Satan with an eyeful of urine.

Yes, my flock, I have been fortunate to behold many wondrous sights. But until recently, I had never known the singular sensation of having a toad, filled with religious fervor, launch itself onto my head.

It is always nice to know that my teachings have made an impact.

The robotic menace

Part II of a two-part suspense-filled epic

The roaring infidel was almost upon me. "This robot sucks," I thought, noting the vacuum effect pulling at my fur. As the Roomba's spinning brushes slammed into my legs, I sprang upward and pounced, crashing down on the power button just before the machine could eat Wendell's curly tail. The Roomba fell silent, defeated like all the other infidels who had dared to cross the ayatollah. Triumphant, I strode to the kitchen to retrieve my ceremonial banana hook.

As I rummaged through the cabinets, the humans approached their fallen machine. Mother lifted it and began to disassemble it. "Yes!" I exclaimed, "tear it limb from evil robotic limb!" Then she turned its rear compartment over, and out spilled enough fur for three pug decoys. My already-wide eyes widened, and Allah placed a metaphorical light bulb above my silky-smooth head.



A vision of the ancient terracotta army of the first Qin emperor popped into my head. Yes, it all made sense now. This robot, despite its outwardly menacing appearance, was simply part of God's plan. With this automated fur-gathering device, I now had the means to build a grand hall of pug decoys exceeding any creation of man. "Allahu akbar!" I exclaimed, before moving to make amends with the Roomba for my hasty attack.


"Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto."