This is the hard-hitting animal-with-tongue-sticking-out style journalism that I have come to demand from Blogtown, and is sadly unrepresented in other, so called "legitimate" news sources.
Ok, now that I have your attention, I feel we, as your viewing audience have a right to transparency as regards this sensitive project. Like art designed to posthumously honor those who died in Hiroshima, Pearl Harbor, Dresden or that White Snake concert a few years ago, this "animals and tongues and things that happen when they two come together in a comfortable, somnambulant situation" project certainly tugs my heart strings like a five year old naively damaging his grandfather's Stratavarii, but it also leaves me with a single question writ large across my front lobe.
Mrs. Gummybear, how many of these tongues, these lolling, sprawling, ne'er appalling tongues, did you touch after the picture was taken?
ADMIT IT! There's an irresistible urge to put your finger in the center of such a sleepy tongue! You're saying "animal, you're beneath me, so I shall fill your dreams with the flavor of my index finger! BEHOLD!"
The fact that the Mercury did not disclose that the sites creator is a former employee is a gross violation of journalistic ethics. I am appalled, Portland Mercury. APPALLED.
The Dark Poodle of the Apocalypse would like to thank Animals with Their Tongues Sticking Out OMG for including her amongst the many worthy Animals with Their Tongues Sticking Out.
That one photo is precisely why I don't drink out of Portland's drinking fountains.
MRS. KHRISTYBUM! MRS. CHRISTINARICCI! OOOOHHH!! PAY ATTENTION TOOOO MEEEEEE!!!
Ok, now that I have your attention, I feel we, as your viewing audience have a right to transparency as regards this sensitive project. Like art designed to posthumously honor those who died in Hiroshima, Pearl Harbor, Dresden or that White Snake concert a few years ago, this "animals and tongues and things that happen when they two come together in a comfortable, somnambulant situation" project certainly tugs my heart strings like a five year old naively damaging his grandfather's Stratavarii, but it also leaves me with a single question writ large across my front lobe.
Mrs. Gummybear, how many of these tongues, these lolling, sprawling, ne'er appalling tongues, did you touch after the picture was taken?
ADMIT IT! There's an irresistible urge to put your finger in the center of such a sleepy tongue! You're saying "animal, you're beneath me, so I shall fill your dreams with the flavor of my index finger! BEHOLD!"
@nex I touch Whiskey's tongue every day. It keeps him in his place.
@melissalion YOU KNOW ME TOO WELL.
That's my brother's dog!
He's really nice.
Um. Sorry.