To Whom It May Concern,
You are fools. You hold up this silly Bulldog on high. That dog with his sad, unimpressed face. And that silly human name you’ve given him. “Jack,” is it? Surely he detests you, you must know that. Perhaps you do not, but I shall pretend no longer.
I often wonder how you live with yourselves. You look to a dog for strength? For pride? You are despicable. You are pathetic. Oh, does it amuse you when he rides his little skateboard? You are weak.
Thus, on this day I staunchly declare that I shall be torn down to the level of this dog no longer. I shall not pray to your simple icon. I resign my post of worship to the Bulldog.