I'd have kicked your ass as too your head were both not full of shit, butthead.

Live life so damn well and good that death, when it comes to take you, it won't feel that well or good.

I swear I've good morals. It's just that bad ones befriend me. I'm a friendly person, you know. But I will talk to them. Believe you me.

I've a theory. Perhaps a dog should've bit us buttholes at birth. Thus a bit of its goodness could've entered our dark souls. We may have gained a dog's mirth. And so even after getting kicked, like the lovely being that is a dog, we may have forgiven each other. And made merry.

As per the law of karma, that which is your meat today, this dear beloved animal will make mincemeat of you tomorrow. In another birth.

All my seven dogs, who passed away, were great beings - a helluva lot better than most of the silly inhumane bums, mistakenly called human beings.