The American Economy

My Contessa was reading Il Giornale this morning, something about a group of mongrels from a place called Wall Street (spoken as a small, male dog, who wouldn’t love an entire street lined by a wall…?).

Anyway, the way she explained to Il Conte, these rascals made the equivilant of a zillion Euros (that’s molto dog treats, in any language or currency), bankrupt their companies, then asked the government for a loan to cover their mistakes.

What did they do with some of that loan money?  They went to the beach, of course.  A very expensive beach.

This is totally contrary to canine logic, I just want all the American people to know.  As Mark Twain once wisely noted:

“If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you.  This is the principal difference between a dog and a man.”

You Americans may think that, at the moment, congress is littered with dogs (pun intended), but I say, throw out ALL the curs and fill the vacant seats with rescue dogs.  The very name implies their mission.

Prosperous dogs will never bite the hand that feeds them.

I know.

Chow.