Mugsy weighs in on stem cell research

As a leading social conservative and firebrand religious leader, I would like to commend President Bush for his veto of expanded funding for embryonic stem cell research. In a perfectly choreographed press conference Wednesday -- complete with crying babies to punctuate his every sentence about embryos -- Bush explained his compassionate conservative reasoning thusly: "In our zeal for new treatments and cures, America must never abandon our fundamental morals." Here, here, Mr. President. We must never forget that all life is precious. And although it would be nice if science could prevent my father from succumbing to the diabetes that took his grandfather's life last year or the Alzheimer's disease that now torments his grandmother, we must always remember just how precious life is. Besides, science is in many ways the enemy of theocracy. Though many scientists believe that embryonic stem cell research holds the key to curing dozens of diseases and improving untold millions of lives, we must balance that knowledge against our compassion for the embryos. And rather than use the cells from these embryos to further the dubious interests of science, we must respect their rights as citizens. We must ensure that these frozen embryos continue to be tossed into trash bins -- with dignity.

A good deal, for a good cause

Have you ever wanted a custom banner for your Web page or e-mails but didn't have the requisite skills to make one? For a minimum donation of $5, you can receive a nice banner and contribute to Pug Dog Encephalitis research. PDE is a deadly, incurable disease that sometimes strikes our pug brothers and sisters, usually in adolescence. Researchers at Texas A&M University are working to learn more about the disease and find a cure. To see some of the sample banners, click here. To donate and get your own custom banner, visit Pugs.com and scroll down to the headline that says, "Mini Signature Banners Raise Funds for PDE."

Food for thought

The young campers and I have been working on logic and critical thinking skills this morning. I began by placing biscuits in Kong Balls and giving them to the hungry youths. The two puppy campers displayed greater problem-solving skills than the human children in this test, cementing their spot at the head of the class. Now, the children are trying to determine what is wrong with the normally lovely Keira Knightley on this magazine cover that has been haunting me lately at store checkout aisles.

Wedding bells

On Thursday, I officiated a cyber-wedding for a couple of my canine friends. It was a beautiful ceremony. And because I agreed to do it before my refrigerator went kaput, I waived my usual fee. The following is a transcript of the ceremony:

We are gathered here today to join Zero the Boston Terrier and Gypsy Rose the Pug in holy matrimony.

Marriage is like a chew rope, my furry friends. You must both take part, or it will not work. A canine cannot play tug-of-war without a partner. So you must always be there for one another. Zero, your rawhide will be Gypsy Rose’s rawhide. And Gypsy Rose, your dog biscuits will be Zero’s dog biscuits.

Zero, do you accept Gypsy Rose as your eternal pugbride?

And Gypsy Rose, do you accept Zero as your ever-lasting terrier hubby?

Let no man tear asunder what the ayatollah has joined today. I now pronounce you husband and wife.

You may lick the bride.

National emergency

You might want to sit down if you aren't already seated. I have some bad news to share. You see, my refrigerator is broken. Last night, I noticed that it was making odd noises. This morning, the kitchen floor was soaking wet. Everything in the freezer was melting or thawing. It would all have to be thrown away. "Leggo my Eggo, you cruel thawing grip!" I exclaimed with horror. But the waffles were gone, as was the glorious frozen chicken. The ice cream, too, was lost forever, leaving its milky residue on the hard tile floor. Naturally, I helped clean this up. In times of need, we must all pitch in -- even high-ranking ayatollahs.

Because of this national emergency, I have raised the Pug Life alert level to Red, or "really expensive." I don't even want to think about what effect this will have on my standoff with the International Atomic Energy Agency.

It's going swimmingly

The campers and I have just returned from our dog-paddling races. Because of the ungodly gasoline prices, I was forced to cancel our trip to Lake Lewisville. Instead, the children swam in the creek near my house. Aside from a minor incident with a snapping turtle, everything went well.

I have begun to see a change in the human campers. At first, they resisted my methods. I encountered much crying, many calls to go home. During our circular marathon yesterday, many of the children complained of dizziness and nausea. But I showed no sympathy. Like a drill sergeant, I demanded that they finish the 26-mile race. And now the campers are beginning to come around. Their defiance is being replaced by obedience, a desire to serve the canine race. This was all part of my plan. From the start, I knew that I had to break the youths down so that I could rebuild them in my image. God willing, we will produce the next generation of ayatollahs. Or, in the case of the human campers, the next generation of ayatollahs' servants.

Wakeup call

The bugle call broke the morning silence at 0500 hours, rousing the children from their fitful sleep. I scratched on the guest-room door intently until one of them opened it. "Stand up," I barked. "Stand up straight!" The children jumped off of the lone bed and recliner and out of the pair of large chests of drawers I had procured as barracks. I began my inspection, sniffing each child one-by-one. When I reached a young Minnesota boy, I didn't like what I smelled. "Biscuit!" I barked. He fumbled through his pockets frantically. "Ayatollah, I ... I don't have any," he stammered, droplets of sweat forming on his brow. I commanded the youth to get down on his hands and knees so I could look him in the eye. After glaring at his nervous features, I let loose with a pair of drenching sneezes, each punctuated by a booming snort. He reached up to wipe his face. "No," I barked. "Leave it there as a reminder. Let this serve as a reminder to all of you. To be good servants of the ayatollah, you must always have dog biscuits at the ready."