Generalizations about Chihuahuas

A new installment in the Generalization Chronicles!
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They are yappy and nervous.
Snappy. High-strung. Undersized.
Like some humans, really.

Ill-tempered.
And defensive. Hair-trigger sense of righteousness.

If you walk by a yard with a Chihuahua, many times it will not bark at you.

Then, like the cowardly little piece of shit that it was bred to be, it will begin yapping up an exaggerated stream of high-pitched machine-gun yelps once you’ve passed the yard’s boundaries. If you were to double back and approach it at this point, the little runt would most likely run screaming in fright like the pussy dog it is.

They are freaks.
Man-made, genetically-designed and -bred freaks. Because man has created Chihuahuas. For whatever Godforsaken reason. Who the hell thought it would be a grand idea to breed down the original dog line, to filter out and filter in, all the personality and physical traits of the modern Chihuahua?

They are useless. Other than to give you a headache and leave your ankles chewed up. They serve no purpose other than as a strange cosmetic and/or fashionable augmentation for those seeking to make their peculiar statement.

Chihuahuas are a symbol of man’s dismal attempts to claim godliness. When man learns to shape life and control physiology, he turns to a child acting out nonsensical whims by transforming a virile brute animal into a barking rat. Man’s unleashed ability to mold life turns into a mockery of life.

Man, given God’s reigns, works diligently to create a foolish world which thumbs its nose at the cold, ruthless equations of evolutionary efficiency. Man creates not in his image; he stumbles into a portrait of confusion and awkwardness.

I have a favorite Chihuahua story. Everyone should have one.
Chihuahua stories taunt human fallbility.

I was trying to explain the degree of a certain person’s homosexuality. Not all homosexuals are as clearly homosexual as others. There is a range of homosexuality. A bell curve, so to speak. In terms of behavior and affect. I sought a clever metaphor which would best poetically describe the extremity of one’s gayness.

I thought of a mutual acquaintance who is rather gay.
Extremely gay acting.

“He’s gayer than a pack of wild Chihuahuas,” I quipped.
Ha.

Gayer than a pack of wild Chihuahua’s.

Give it some thought. How gay is that?