Okay, Lefty. What about this one? There’s this German shepherd named Rolf working at LAX sniffing out dope, but the thing is, he starts to like the smell of the herb, wonders what it tastes like, and finally, one day loses his Teutonic dog discipline and tears into a bag of Acapulco Gold, wolfs the whole bag, starts seeing shit like black light bunny rabbits melting.
He’s instantaneously hooked. There’s nothing anybody can do. They try everything: behavior modification, treats, punishments, but after that first taste, he’s long gone, addicted, unemployable, eventually let go, gets adopted, but busts out his backyard, his nose huffing, guiding him outside the city limits south to Flores where he spends every waking moment trying to cop.
The cat – I mean dog – has a world-class nose. Can sniff dope out extraordinaire. Becomes a pot pickpocket, gets the shit beat out of him a couple of times, but it’s worth it – he’s got to have it. Loses weight, hair, looks scabby, his will-to-live vacates. He considers throwing himself in front of a bus but then [cue violins] runs across a wino puking in a back alley, and in puke Rolf sees the face of Jesus. He eats the vomit, and after licking his chops, his mouth opens, and the words “Oh my God” come out loud and clear.
Rolf gets straight, spends the rest of his life talking to users, who think they’re hallucinating when a dog starts telling them what they already know deep down inside, but he assures them they’re not hallucinating, and a few of them follow in his pawsteps, so to speak, accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior, slip out of the chains of their addiction.
Getting people off drugs translates into some pretty powerful enemies. One day a pusher named Roberto offs him, but Rolf goes to heaven, is the very first dog allowed in because dogs are basically amoral, no matter how much they seem to love you. I realize this idea is unpopular, but it’s true.
I thought so. Not believable. Religious people won’t understand eating the vomit is communion, holy. I get it. No hard feelings.
Well, the only other thing I got is even more unbelievable. This reality TV star and professional wrestling promoter, who has a vocabulary of about 10,000 words, decides to run for president to drum up business for his brand. The vulgarian is ridiculous, sports a platinum-dyed comb-over Teddy Boy do and tips the scales at 320. He has no intention of actually winning; it’s merely a publicity stunt, like I said, to hype his brand. But the thing is that he kills his Republican competitors in the debates, mocking them to their faces. It’s like, well, like professional wrestling: over the top, crass, stupid, the Red State Special. Even after he brags about his history of grabbing pussies, Evangelicals claim that God has sent him to save the nation. He ends up winning the nomination, the presidency. Like I say, the talking Jesus dog is more believable.