More Questions and Answers, Sirs

Last night, I promised to answer some more questions I have received privately. Here are a few:

1) Quest.: Are you religious?
Ans.: I am not. At least, not usually. I am afraid of the great Sky Basset. Whenever the rain comes hard and the sky goes black in the day, the Sky Basset shows his anger. First, his bright eye flashes and then he growls a celestial growl. And the ground shakes. At this point, I suspect he is coming to get me.
My reaction is to find a Sir, and whimper. If the growls are very loud, I will begin to shake and shove my head down the nearest available crevice (cushions in the couch, between pillows on the bed, Sirses' legs). If this happens at night, I will wake Mister Sir by barking and demand to hide between him while he sleeps.
If elected, I will spend millions investigating the Sky Basset and how to silence him. In every other way, it is unwise to spend money on religion.

Mister Sir edits: This is true. Sebastian is very afraid of thunder.
To be fair, this is very common amongst hounds. They are bred for field conditions -- large, broad, low-lying areas free of trees and tall structures. It's a natural progression for them to be afraid of lightning (and accompanying thunder) since in the field, they can be targets.
Unfortunately -- or rather, very fortunately -- I cannot find any statistics about hound lightning strikes


2) Quest.: What is your stance on defense spending?
Ans.: I believe a strong offense is the best defense.
For example, this one time, I bit Mister Sir. There was no reason, I just thought it was late, I was tired and he was in my face. So I bit his.
He was sort of pissed. He had to go to the hospital and get twenty stitches in his upper lip. I hear it took upwards of four hours and hurt a whole bunch. He even had to eat Thanksgiving Dinner in teeny little bites because of advanced lip swelling.
But he don't give me no lip these days.
This is my paradigm for defense practices.

Again, Mister Sir edits: This really, really is true. Sebastian bit me. I needed twenty stitches. It took four hours. The plastic surgeon at one point managed to cut open an artery and cover me with blood in the process.
Sebastian was eventually forgiven.

Sebastian Counter-edits: You were illicitly in my face, sir. This requires retribution. What would you do if I counter-struck by telling people that you were actually in your underpants in the picture marked "The Noble Brow of the Basset"? My honor, Mister Sir, my honor. Respect it.

Mister Sir Count-Counter-edits: You spend a measurable portion of each day sniffing poo and licking your crotch. Settle.

Sebastian Counter-Counter-edits: Sir, were they still there, I would lick my balls; I am a dog. Your people deny me this, sir.

Mister Sir Counter-Counter-Counter-edits: I cannot dispute this. You win, Poochles.

3) Quest.: What are thoughts on foreign relations?
Ans.: Alas, I cannot answer that til after the Tripartite Basset Commission meeting later this month.

Hams to you and yours.