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180 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 1993
On my block, a lot of people walk their dogs and I always see them walking along with their little poop bags. This, to me, is the lowest activity in human life. Following a dog with a little scooper. Waiting for him to go so you can walk down the street with it in your bag. If aliens are watching this through telescopes, they're going to think the dogs are the leaders of the planet. If you see two life forms, one of them's making a poop, the other one's carrying it for him, who would you assume is in charge? I say, if this is where we're at after 50,000 years of civilization, let's just give up. I'm serious, let's pack it in. It's not worth it. Let's just say the human race as an idea didn't quite work. It seemed good at first, we worked on it for a long time, but it just didn't pan out. We went to the moon but still somehow wound up carrying little bags of dog doody around with us. We just got mixed up somewhere. Let's just give it over to the insects or whoever else is next in line.