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breaker breaker good buddy. this is a call four sonya. i'm trying to establish telepathic communication with sonya. is sonya out their anywhere? sonya? this is woody, good buddy, tell me you're out their.

sonya.jpgwhen eye say "sonya" i'm referring to sonya the pet psychic who is apparently getting paid a bunch of bucks to tell people what their pets are thinking. she's got her own tv show, her own web site, speaking engagements, advertisers, the hole nine yards. most dogs are lucky two have one yard, let alone nine. she probably makes 60-70 million purinas a year (granted that's in dog money).

if you spend some time on sonya's web site, you learn a couple of things. first, that most, if not all animals (i.e., like me), are capable of communicating telepathically with each other and any biped who happens two wander buy who can handle it. and second, ewe learn that most, if knot all humans, with the exception of sonya, are miserable failures at animal telepathy, which is why, apparently, they pay sonya the big bucks. (people on hallucinogenic drugs don't count. ewe may be telepathic, but the reception quality sucks. and besides, ewe forget all the important stuff. and forget about eddie murphy. that was a movie, fool.)

sew i'm basically calling ms. sonya out. if your such stuff, then ewe should bee getting in touch any moment. lettuce telecommune, compare notes about chigger, gilda and anyone else you might bee listening in on. as an added bonus, i'll tell you what that makeup technician, the one who was acting so nice, was really thinking about ewe during your last tv show.

and four the rest of you, eye wood point out that you can put your faith in sonya, and hope she's knot just snowing you for the money, or, you could contact year good buddies hear at blogdogs and find out what your pet or your pal is really thinking from animals with guaranteed psychic ability. don't believe me? try this. get up right now. go to your refrigerator. grab a big chunk of beef (raw or cooked, doesn't matter) and offer it two your dog. i guarantee you that dog's first reaction is going to be "how did you no?" so there. trust me.


Dear Woody: I know what you're thinking. Frankly, I wish I didn't. Reading Chigger's mind isn't quite so boring, but really, my dear, couldn't you readsomething besides the side of the dog treat container? I do have a question, though: I am having trouble understanding the ducks. Do you have any idea what is up with them? Especially the mallard, who is apparently a bi/transsexual. He is a he in the winter, when his head turns green and he pursues the female Pekin, but in the summer he turns brown and has sex with the male Pekin. Since I am unable to leave the house (ahem) it's a little hard to tell what the three of them are thinking unless they come up here and raid the bird feeders. I see you chasing them around the pond and barking your head off. Do you get any vibrations from them? What do they quack about?

gilda ewe deregulated humorless hair-ball factory, if ewe spent any time learning about duck history you'd no that all the grate ducks -- donald, daffy, howard, etc. -- were comedians. it doesn't take a pyschic two know that the quickest weigh four any comedian two get a laugh is too cross-dress. (sea "sum like it hot," "tootsie," "e.t.," "been her," and "schindler's list.") the barking and quacking ewe here is laughter. ewe mite want to try it some thyme.

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