Call a Spayed a Spayed

I’ll begin on the assumption that it’s clear to most sentient members of society — whose hearts aren’t constantly bleeding — that our national fixation on politically correct language got out of hand ages ago. And I’ll up the ante by suggesting that tiptoeing through verbal minefields lest you offend our dainty embrace of everyone else’s otherness is usually a complete waste of effort, and in some cases a gross underscoring of our most abhorrent prejudiced inclinations.

Respect me.

Agree with me or don’t on the points above, but there’s no question we’ve gone too far when we bestow PC niceties on our canine wards.

I saw a commercial for this product BackYard Buddy, an astroturf-topped litter box for dogs. As with your standard prime time infomercial-style ad, this one painstakingly lists all the problems a $30 piss box will solve, and the numerous reasons you need one. One of those reasons is that it’s great for SPECIAL NEEDS dogs. Not kidding. Take a look for yourself:

Um, that bitch got fixed, it’s not “special needs.”  And if it were you’d be perfectly justified in saying the damn thing’s retarded. Ditto for that “mature” dog sniffing urine in the other photo. It’s old. Not mature. Not aged or elderly or advanced in years. Old. Just say it, geez.

What'd you call me?

Thank god for dogs that they are at once dumb enough not to know what you’re calling them and smart enough not to care.

Now we sit back and wait for the  days when ACLU starts a K-9 division, we have to stop commanding our dogs to “come” and Al Sharpton forces us to think up an acceptable name for the Black and Tan Coonhound.