by Daniel Bork, Two Small Children Attempting to Enter an R-Rated Film
A breaking exposé from the New York Times suggests that, as a result of today’s decentralized and increasingly social media-focused journalistic climate, it may in some cases no longer be possible to determine whether a given Internet poster is, indeed, human, rather than merely a dozen or so mutually antagonistic dogs crammed together into a badly-tailored human costume and forced to make collective decisions by majority vote. This especially chilling development in the “post-truth” era of international politics comes amidst widespread concerns about so-called “fake news,” both dog-sourced and otherwise, and some speculate that it may only accelerate the trend, as news pieces will now likely be attacked not only as biased or nonfactual but as connivances of a sinister canine coterie.
One prominent American figure interviewed last October, who spoke with readme on condition of anonymity for fear of hiring discrimination, confessed to being little more than a poorly prefabricated pastiche of human skin stitched together over a core of about 12 dogs. “I used to be pretty good at hiding it, back when I was just puppies,” the personage sighed, pawing anxiously at its hypodermis. “But as my constituent dogs grew up, my flesh-disguise started bulging and sagging all over the place and took on a sickly, jaundiced hue. And several of my components are terriers that always accuse the others of vote rigging. Everyone yaps so loudly that it overwhelms our reason, and I start doing and saying crazy things.” “Woof,” they added dejectedly.
“But when I’m on Twitter, nobody notices that some statements come from the Airedale and others are obviously one of the Chihuahuas. It’s like I wasn’t even a dozen dogs, crudely bound by the vagaries of fate and trapped together in this meat-prison despite few coherent political thoughts,” intoned the figure wistfully, as three variegated paws tapped out a blistering attack on House Speaker Paul Ryan. “And it’s much easier to talk to foreign counterparts this way, without worrying about letting slip a stray Yorkie onto the tarmac in a Moscow airport just when you thought you’d fooled Vlad…,” it whimpered, its pelt writhing disjointedly in a sort of collective shudder. “He looked so…hungry…”
Though the Internet may give free rein to the newly unleashed canine cabals, the expert consensus remains that it is typically possible to determine whether a meatspace person is really little more than a diaphanous integument stretched dangerously over a tumultuous maelstrom of dogs. Noted non-canid and celebrity statistician Nate Silver, for instance, noted that “usually, when you meet someone in person, you can typically guess by smell alone within a margin of 2 or so of how many dogs they are. It’s pretty implausible to imagine that someone could be as many as 12 dogs and get away with it in real life. However,” he equivocated, scratching his husk with one of his hind legs, “larger polling errors have happened before.” Though our interviewer could not be reached to obtain further comment, by press time most people had realized that, you know, the thought that most public figures are probably really just bunches of dogs is actually a lot better than the alternative.