Maybe Your Dog is a Hermaphrodite

I have a friend who always freaks out when I don’t get the gender of her dog right.  I always call it a she and the dog is a he.  This is further complicated by the fact that she’s given the dog an ultra-girly name.  The dog’s name is the equivalent of Shirley and it’s male!  So, when I see Shirley, I automatically ask how SHE is doing.  This drives my friend crazy.  She stops, her face scrunches up even more than it usually is, and she yells out, “He.  It’s a he!”


The gender thing with her dog drives me crazy.  I always want to yell out, “You know what?  When it comes to dogs, I am gender-blind.  I don’t see gender.  And do you know why?  BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO FECK YOUR DOG!!”  That’s the truth of the matter in the end.  Dogs don’t have a sexuality to me.  I know they do it twice a year, but I don’t want to know about it, much like my parents having sex.  To me, dogs are loveable, androgynous, souls.  They are less a she or a him or a he or a her and more mystical-ball-of-love-from up on high.  One other factor drives this point home for me and that is – I know the dog doesn’t give a sh*t.  Call him a her or an it, it doesn’t matter – just feed the soulful hermaphrodite, give it love, and the boy-girl will wag its tail until the gender-neutral cows come home.


“You can call me Sir, but get me the feck out of this dress!”


And that is my point, sometimes we get sensitive over the wrong things.  Your dog doesn’t care if you call it a him or her.  However, she does care when you dress her up in that tutu and tiara because she’s a feckin’ dog, an animal, and it’s scratchy!  So, stop doing that.  But, ultimately, the dog doesn’t care about pronouns.  So, you shouldn’t.


What you should care about is my Asian friend who gets Ching-Chonged in the street.


That’s what she calls it, “ching-chonging.”  Now, my friend is an ultra-cool, Asian (Korean-American) girl who’s in a band and she’s a super talented artist.  She lives in New York (New York, by the way, not Bumfeck, Nowhere) and in New York sometimes she gets what she calls, “ching-chonged” in the streets.  The “ching-chonging” consists of a couple of meatheads walking by her and yelling or sometimes even whispering, “ching-chong, ching-chong.”


Let’s pause for a moment here so I can fully express myself…




How is that funny?  It’s just not and at the same time it’s feckin’ completely hack.  I mean, would the same guys go up to a black guy and say, “Basketball, Basketball, N*gga, what??!!”  No, they would not because a couple of black guys are more threatening then a cool, Asian girl who plays the accordion.


So, no feckin’ way they would try it.  But, yet, my friend gets ching-chonged.  It’s so feckin’ lame.  It makes me want to unleash my inner, gender-mysterious, pit-bull on to all of their retarded asses.


You see how I did that?  If the meatheads were actually retarded, I would not have described their asses as such.


This brings me to my last point.  How is it that people don’t know how to joke around?  How is it that people get sensitive about the wrong things?  The gender of their dog – for example – yet they have no problem laughing at a lame, Asian, joke?


“Ching-Chong me and you may never walk without a limp…”


Here’s how it works, it’s so simple, really…


If you are that thing, you can say that thing.  So, if you’re Asian and for some insane reason, you want to ching-chong yourself then go right ahead.  You can ching-chong yourself all day.  For example, the other day I called Wifesy a “fag.”  I totally did.  I said, “God, you’re being such a fag, right now.”  And since we know each other’s hearts, and since we both have spent a while in fagdom, it was perfectly okay and fall-down-funny.  I would also say if you have a strong intimacy with a friend, if they know where you’re coming from then – yes – you can say an ethnic joke to them and it becomes a form of inclusion.  Your friend will laugh, you will laugh.  It can be awesome, but you need to have decent instincts about this sh*t.  And the rule is – they get to say one back.  So, don’t do it if you can’t handle the reciprocation.


Lastly — empathy.  Simple, empathy.  I like to think everyone’s born with it, but I’m not sure they are anymore because there’s a lot of stupid out there.  Empathy is a very simple quality and it means, “Can you step in this other human’s shoes for a while?”  If you possess it, then put yourself in the place of the other, and ask yourself, “If I were Asian, would I enjoy being ching-chonged down the street?”  For me, the answer is no.  A ching-chong in my face would lead to a Jackie Chan metamorphosis with a streak of Dexter.  Ching-chong me on the wrong day and not only will I flying, high kick you to the ground, but you may also get filleted.


It’s all so easy to understand, really.  Mainly, the dogs don’t give a sh*t, but the humans do.  So, think before you speak and unfortunately, sometimes you have to step up when someone else acts like an ass.  It’s annoying to have to be an a-hole avenger.  I know all about it.  Sometimes it feels like a full-time job for me, but I think in the end, it protects the right souls.



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Photo credits:  dogindress, crouching tiger