Before I get into the details of my trip, can I first talk about arguably one of the most cruel and pernicious practices of the modern era?

I mean, when did the above become an accepted or even necessary practice? It’s beyond my comprehension which, given my intellectual capacity, is really saying something, why boarding up a canine with no consideration to comfort (or style) doesn’t qualify for animal abuse charges. Heck, it’s about as close to murder as you can get.

I hate to go into the hellish details, but I will.

Firstly, have you ever heard of a place called Guantanamo Bay? Well think of that and then multiple it by a factor of 20,000 and you might be able to fathom my experience. For nearly, 8 hours (yes, you read that right, EIGHT) I was trapped in a dark hole with minimal access to light, water, or food. In fact, I was rationed only several pieces of deli meat, a few biscuits, half a turkey sandwich and few bones. Clearly, it’s safe to say death was fast approaching.

The first blow was being stuffed into the bag in the first place. I screamed “MY BODY MY CHOICE” but to no avail. I was muscled into the bag, gagged (metaphorically gagged that is) and then jostled about en route to the airport.

Upon arrival, I was illegal frisked and searched for contraband in the most unholy of places. My organic nuggets were confiscated for further inspection and my bones were swiped for traces of bomb material. I was interrogated for what seemed liked hours about who I was and where I was going. Obviously, these muttonheads were oblivious to the magnitude of my celebrity given the squalid conditions in which I was traveling.

Finally, I was shoved onto a plane and squished UNDERNEATH the seat. No peanuts, no champagne, no dignity. Shortly after takeoff, I was plucked upwards and, against my will, given what I believe to be horse or perhaps even gorilla sedatives. While I was assured it was an expensive herbal remedy found at Whole Foods, it made me feel woozy, sleepy and happy drunk. It was then that a received a vision from Cesar Milan. He appeared in a white cloak and bore a fully cooked turkey. He spoke in calm gentle words and told me that everything would be alright. This was only a test of my supreme leadership and that soon I would be in Mexico munching on burritos and churros.

And while Cesar was right, it surely doesn’t justify the practice. I’ve penned letters to both Hilary Clinton, Obama, and PETA hoping that they will use my harrowing experience as a platform for change. I’ve also decided that I’ll go on a daily 15 minute hunger strike to protest the practice.

Sorry for the bleak post, but I had to bring this matter to light. I’l be back later in the week to talk about my Mexican Supreme Leadership Tour.

Mafi