Guys, I Can’t Stop Watching This
I found this at Warming Glow which is a fantastic TV blog that talks about Sons of Anarchy and Mad Men and sexy babies all day. It is awesome.
A new featured introduced a week ago was ‘Corgi Fridays,’ and kids, it is fantastic.
This Gif, however. This Gif, man.
I think it’s broken me. It’s a second and a half long, but don’t let that fool you, this little piece of art, and it is art, is dense.
First off, let’s examine that “jump.” He’s “leaping” into action, but he’s somehow getting no air and distance. It’s like the earth’s moving under him. He’s at best actively falling. He’s truly participating in his own inherent embrace of gravity. Look at his little legs kick in the air, clawing for an impossible, ethereal purchase in the indifferent atmosphere.
This leap is like Michael Jackson’s moonwalk. It just shouldn’t happen. There are physics here at play that I cannot wrap my head around.
You know that episode of Futurama where Professor Farnsworth reveals his clone, and, inadvertently, his actual age, which results in his capture to the retirement planet where he’ll just wait to die? In the episode it’s explained that the engine he created for the Planet Express ship, doesn’t move the ship. The ship stays in one place, and the universe moves around it.
This dog is doing that. He should be in the Legion of Super Heroes, or an Avenger or something.
Second, he’s wearing a little rescue vest. Elf dog here is a lifeguard.
Who in the fuck is he going to save? You’re nature’s football, Corgi! You can’t save anyone!
If I’m at a park, and I see a corgi coming at me, I know that good times are ahead. It’s a beautiful day, maybe there are food and drink, then next thing I know, here comes a new friend.
“Hey, friend,” I’d say and wave with both hands. “Am I about to go on an adventure,” I’d ask this furry hotdog. He’d look at me with comically oversized ears perched at adorable angles and I’d have a new best friend. Ride together, die together, bad boys for life.
If I’m fucking drowning the corgi is the last thing I want to see. If I’m in a life-or-death situation and God, or Fate, or the Universe, or whatever higher power you might ascribe to sends me a fucking corgi, I know I’m dead. My story ends here.
If you ever see a corgi in a life jacket vest, he is Death’s Herald. He is the messenger of that cold, lonely, eternal sleep that claims all of us.
Third, who is he going to save? He’s at best going to have some panicking lady or a fat guy with a cramp grasping his little vests hand holds and carabiners and dragging him to a wet Hell with them. Where in the plan list are we? Like, is this Plan A? If this is Plan A, I’m not going here. I’ll never visit this country, and if it’s part of the US, fuck it, give ’em to Canada. This has to be at least, AT LEAST, Plan E.
Is he really going to swim out to someone who is seconds away from having no more tomorrows, and then swim them back? These dogs are cute as all hell, but they are not physically impressive. This is the canine platypus, folks. This animal was never meant for combat. The noble Welsh Corgi, like the Chihuahua and Italian Greyhound would never naturally occur in nature, because they bring nothing to the table. Oh sure, you hear that Corgi’s are smart, but are they smarter than a pack of wolves? Who do you have in a fight, the Harvard Grad Student or the 17 Latin Kings?
Unless he’s rescuing another Corgi, the victim, and possibly him are going to die.
Having said that, I would watch a show about corgis rescuing other corgis. I would watch the living shit out of a show like that.
Posted on September 7, 2010, in Matt Loman, Uncategorized and tagged blogs, corgi rescue, corgis, die well devil dog, drunk, gifs, I WROTE THIS DRUNK, Matt Loman, matt's got problems. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.