This is the face of Chris Reed, the ugliest saddest man in the world:

Poor Chris Reed. He wasn’t blessed with great genetics, neither physical or intellectual. No woman has ever looked across a bar, gazed upon his yellow teeth or straight yet frizzy hair, and thought “I’m going home with him tonight!”

He never made it to one of the big newspapers. His life-long dream of working for The New York Times or The Wall Street Journal was just that: a dream.

Naturally, he’s completely miserable. Sad, alone, without a friend in the world, in one of the sunniest places in the entire country: San Diego. The sun has become his enemy, constantly beaming down upon him, forcing him to wear sunscreen on a daily basis so his pasty complexion doesn’t burn to a crisp. He drives past the beach every day on his way to work at The San Diego Union-Tribune, jealously observing tan, fit, young lovers playing with their puppy.

No one has ever looked at Reed like that. The world has been cruel to him, and so he’s cruel to the world.

He writes articles entitled “Let’s be honest, America: Dogs are parasites, not man’s best friend” not because he means it, but because he’s sad. He reads books about how horrible dogs are, books that say things like:

Our very cleverness is the start of our undoing when we’re up against an evolutionary sharpshooter like the dog. We are primed to seize on what are, in truth, fundamental, programmed behaviors in dogs and read into them extravagant tales of love and fidelity… Just as we are genetically programmed to seek signs of love and loyalty, dogs are genetically programmed to exploit this foible of ours.

That comforts Reed. “That dog on the beach doesn’t actually love those people- he’s using them! They think they’re happy when in fact they’re being played! Not me, NO ONE is playing me.”

He wants the world to know that he’s discovered this great truth: that all dogs are evil and manipulative. And he uses this self-serving, deviant dog and his mediocre platform at the San Diego Union-Tribune to unleash that fury upon us.

“So is that love in your dog’s eyes — or is that the look of a con man sizing up his mark? Science says it’s the latter. Sorry, world.”

I’m not even mad, I feel immense sympathy for this sad, sad, sad man.

For the only being that could ever learn to love this face, is a dog.