Dear Murray
My dog is sick. What should I do? I don’t live by any veterinarians or animal hospitals. The doctors at the regular human hospital won’t even look at him. He has a fever and he hurts when he walks and he won’t eat and he has a temperature. What advice do you have for me?
Sad about my dog,
Crys
I knew it was gonna come back and haunt me letting it out that Murray is a softie. Dogs are dumb, stupid, drooling, codependent animals. You won’t make Murray cry! Filthy, dirty, cat shit-eating beasts! Don’t look at me with those eyes!
If you really care about this dog, here’s what you do. You’re gonna need the following items: a giant serving platter with a lid, two oversized kitchen knives (the kind like you see on bugs bunny and shit), a red and white checkered bib, and a few condiments (see Anonymous in Koreatown to find out what goes good with dog). I want you to put the dog on the platter, cover him, and walk into the closest hospital emergency room. Put the bib on, pull out the knives and rub them together like you’re sharpening them. Then take the lid off the platter. By now, someone should have asked “what the fuck are you doing???????” to which you can reply “HE’S SICK, SO I HAS TO EAT HIM!”
You’ll be amazed at how quickly they’ll find a veterinarian. Now leave me the fuck alone.
Categories: General Malaise Pets and other fleabags
Dear Murray
Dear Murray a tasty, tasty bitch beloved and feared by hordes of basement-dwelling illiterati and their fierce antagonists, the Grammar Nazis. He single-handedly turned the webcam whorefest of Myspace into a lively commerce of ideas, including whether or not the TUBGIRL photo will ever be topped as a postmodern expression of the inexpressible. According to web historians, he has inspired more photoshop projects and syphilis jokes than Britney Spears (who he has been repeatedly linked romantically to). He is also rumoured to be the father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby, a disciple of Cliff Yablonski, and the second gunman on the grassy knoll. Although he could not be reached for comment, he reportedly resides in or near the tent cities along the LA River Basin, third right after the walrus sunning station.
He has vehemently denied all charges that he is any any way responsible for that rash your wife claims "is from the heat".
His primary function is doling out advice; the inspiration sprang from an endless and eventually dull repetition of fucktards failed to heed his words.
A secondary result is a dysfunctional family "round table" of people who contribute innumerable one-liners and personal experiences, rarely related in any way to the actual question.
It is estimated that tens of thousands of readers have "LOL'd" approximately 5,395,645,694,167,467,105 times, with the toll expected to rise.
He is immune to kryptonite, chlamydia, and brainwashing.
Wikipedia has banned PENCILTITS's entry, debating the relevance of his tasty bitchiness.