Pynchon's God is a Dog or a Dead Horse Dixon Whipped of Didn't with a Slave Dealer

[barbie gaze]

I have a huge python; his name is Spot. I got him because I wanted to meet
young, preferably tall light and handsome rich men in Central Park. So my
girl friends told me to get a little dog and take it for a walk in the
park; this meet-a-mate-in-CP strategy is fool proof, but when I thought
about how Americans clean up after their canines, even the steaming pounds
of dog waste a Scooby Doo produces, I opted for a snake. Now, we all know
that snakes don't have a nose, so they don't sniff anus like the other
mutts. Well, when spot stuck his tongue up the bung of this fine
gentleman's labradoodle I knew I was about to have my first real
conversation with a man with a dog. He gave me his lawyer's card. A Jewish
Lesbian from Chelsea. Yup, Spot ate the dog, I told her. She didn't get the
joke.
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