I saw a goddamned great dane pit bull mix walking his dogman inside Home Depot in the interior soft lighting and fixtures isle. I got bit in the face by Bill Zierer's ill conceived coon hound house dog idea. Broke my glasses and I spilled faceblood all over my shirt. A Saint Bernard bit me, get this, in my side. Barney sank those canines right into my adolescent right side oblique. Dutchess bit me on the fingertip after terrifying me to the core with that stupid, contorted snarling bullshit half assed murderous grinning silent Germanic portent of her bitchy might, fully engaged to win an unfair fight. Seig heil, god dammit. I stared down four massive Great Pperennezezzes in Cloud Creek Hollow. Me and dogs. One shat near the parking lot near my office. I left work, unknowlingly stepping in it, and, get this, tracked it into the credit union lobby. Fucking dogs and me. My half-brother, swear to god, killed a man and tried to kill another over a serial piles of dogshit on his stupid landlord's lawn. That fucking sphincter muscle relaxed in the perfect spot to get a man shot to death and to get my half brother by another mother and our fucked up father sentenced to life-in-prison somewhere near Cambridge or Guernsey Ohio of all places. Look it up. State of Ohio v. Michael Paul Smith. I have no favorite breed of dog and the friendly mutt's no longer exempt. The worst thing about dogs: their owners, and now that I think about it, the fucking dogs, too. I don't like dogs no more. Here in the 21st Centry, we now have the advent of dog people. Dogs leave me asking a global all-encompassing, cosmic "why?" Follow the business end from the collar of the lesh upward to the handle loop. There's your answer.
This is an important film, thanks to the hard work of director, Daniel Schmidt. It should appeal to everyone, regardless of your hemisp...