You know what’s funny? Dog food is funny. Of course, I don’t actually have a dog, or any dog-related possessions, but these are the things I think about. No, I don’t know why either.

Dog food is funny because dogs can’t read… but you can; and, when you choose to purchase 2-for-1 Snausages it’s because you want them, not Fido, Scout, or Dipshit. You’re drawn in by their appetizing similarity to pigs-in-a-blanket, eye-catching product placement, and tantalizing nutritional information.

Don’t deny it, you want them… and you’re sick.

You see, inside your meat suit is a rudimentary subconscious. It’s not the same one that keeps you from killing your boss or philosophizing about all those weak trees that keep falling down with no one around. This one mainly handles your sexual urges (or ‘fails to handle’ depending on your individual lasciviousness) and your food consumption. “Eat that Twinkie,” your mini-mom says, “it’s only been nibbled on a little bit, and it’s not even touching those coffee grinds.”

This same rudimentary subconscious looks through your ocular nerves and spies the inviting and welcoming sight of glorious Snausages and whispers, “You know, you like pigs-in-a-blanket, you should buy those.” And, like with the Jedi mind trick, you stare numbly, drool slightly, and recite, “You know, I like pigs-in-a-blanket, I should buy these” as you lower armfuls into your cart.

And that, Billy, is why watermelons float.

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