In college, someone once handed me a small glass of milk. I put it in my coffee. It wasn't bad. Then, they told me that they'd gotten it by milking a dog, which had been nursing puppies.
You know this shtick. Idiot screenwriters have built entire films around it: Lets-Get-This-Guy-To-[Fill In The Blank], Then Tell-Him-What's-Really-Happening, afterwards... Because witnessing that moment of dawning awareness, when their hand goes into the bag and touches the dead rat or fresh animal dung, really is the point, isn't it?
Well, I wasn't that upset. I finished my coffee. I am a Dog, after all. And, it was very good coffee.
But, this? This freaks me out, man. I mean, you can do this; and you could make cheese out of dog's milk, too -- though I wouldn't vouch for its quality when stacked up against even Safeway, vat-created, mass-processed "Monterey Jack" cheese.
Then, there's the question of methodology: How many dogs would you have to milk in order to obtain enough to actually make the cheese? And, how many breasts... well, you get the idea.
Man; that's Psycho Cheese, Qu'est Que C'est? / Fa fa fa fa / fa fa fa fa / better / Run run run run run run / run away...
Janet Leigh Brie: Don't Eat It In The Shower
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