When my father was younger, in college, he had a huge amount of plants and fish tanks. Like in a one bedroom apartment he had something like 17 fish tanks and more than a hundred plants. When he was telling me about this it was with no modest amount of pride. He would actually bring girls back to this strange amazonian forest like apartment, which I’m sure was humid and smelled somewhat like bog water.
He had his party tricks as we all do to try and woo a lady. He would show the girls how he had trained the fish. Granted I think this to be much more tactful then yelling helicopter and taking your penis and spinning it around as fast as you can. Anyhow, he would tap on the glass of the tank and the fish would rise to the top of the tank. This was impressive to him, which is justifiable, because fish really aren’t meant to be trainable, with their tiny brains (which is really all relative). I can’t imagine it really made their jaws or their pants drop.

Considering he could have his fish listen to him and I can hardly get this little bugger to come when I ask her to is one of those things that gets to me. You know how you expect to surpass those that taught you at some point, but teaching this little animal is one point where I fall short. Oh, I’ve read the books, and had a strange man stop me on the street and give me a card that says dog whisperer on it, but that’s about as far as it goes.

In my mind though so long as she doesn’t maul a child and shit in my bed I’m ok with her barking at an empty night when she’s in the back yard. I don’t have to go ahead and put her in a burlap sack…yet.

Here is a drawing of her I did for a painting I put up in a bar of her as the anti-christ.

So the anti-christ drawing didn’t save properly and I’ve already cut it up for the painting.. so if you had wanted to see it you’ll have to find out where in Montreal it’s hanging (hint: a bar on Crescent st.)

If you look up pictures of the anti-christ it is 4 pages of pictures of Obama…oh America.