Beyoncé has a new dog. Beyoncé's dog is better than me. Who am I? I am not as good as Beyoncé's dog. Here is Beyoncé's dog. Jezebel has some speculation about the possible breed of Beyoncé's dog, but it doesn't matter, really. Here's what matters: Beyoncé's dog kicks the crap out of me. Sorry, it's true. Here's Beyoncé's dog.
Here's me, compared to the dog.
I scared Maeby! Messed up. Let's look at the dog again.
Wonderful. Let's think about the life, briefly, of Beyoncé's dog. Here are some facts about it I made up. Beyoncé's dog eats only Wagyu beef from the Kobe region. Not only does Beyoncé's dog's meat have a masseuse, the dog itself has a masseuse while it's eating the meat. What do I eat? Garbage, mostly. Beyoncé's dog works out regularly. It actually has a personal trainer than helps it lift dog weights. The personal trainer is a cat. Who's my personal trainer? A Richard Simmons Jazzercise VHS I found while dumpster diving. Sad. Beyoncé's dog flies private, even on short trips where it really could just sit business class and probably not even have to interact with the passengers sitting next to it. Even on international flights. It doesn't care. Money is no object. I travel by barge. Beyoncé's dog has access to a special type of email where you don't have to put something in the subject line, it's just all body. It's called Email 2. I use MSN Messenger. Nobody's even on it anymore. Pathetic. Beyoncé's dog has a CD compilation of every great '60s cut and another box set from the '70s. I heard that Beyoncé's dog has a white label of every seminal Detroit techno hit: 1985, '86, '87. I collect used Now That's What I Call Music tapes. Beyoncé's dog can bark in five different languages. It speaks American Sign Language. I'm lucky I can even write. Does this make sense? Probably not. I'm just slapping the keys. Face it: Beyoncé's dog is better than me. But it's ok. I can still look at Beyoncé's dog.