Tomacco, Tobacco, and why Krusty needs to be found guilty

I got up the other morning and decided to go for a morning jog. Nothing too strenous...after all, jogging seems a lot like working sometimes. You pound the pavement, develop stress (fractures), have nervous moments when sidewalk drivers approach, and feel worse when you are done than you did when you started.
On my jog I saw one of those sad sights. At what point in life do people, usually women but too often men also, decide it is a good idea to put on neon, color matched velour sweat suits, matching headbands and wristbands, and go walk their little yapper mutt?
You know the ones I am talking about...little dogs like chiahuahuas or poodles that have no real value in life other than reminding me I need to pick up hot dog buns tonight for the barbecue.
It is even worse when they are driving and have those little crap machines on their lap or looking out the drivers side window. Every day I hear complaints about people driving while on their cells...well, what about Grandma Frisbee and her 18 year old dog cruising the fast lane at 35 and trying to simultaneously see over their mutt and the steering wheel?
But heaven forfend you should say something negative about their precious little Chichi dog. You have a better chance of survivign if you criticize social security or medicaid. That helpless little old lady suddenly becomes a purse swinging madwoman who probably should be arrested for assault.
I think the best part is one of these power walking color matched velour suit madwomen is carrying the dog...like, they take the dog for a walk but the dog can't handle it. Huh?
In the words of the song from Shrek II, time to put the old horse down.
Now, it is a good thing that the elderly have a companion. And I suppose a little yapper mutt is a step up from 37 cats...certainly not from 36, but possibly from 37. Still, there need to be some controls on these things.
Maybe the fashion police can start looking for these oldsters and get them involved in some more time-constructive pursuits. Like maintaining the ratings of Wheel of Fortune or Perry Mason reruns. After all, the only tragedy worse than seeing another dozen train wrecks in crushed orange velour would be the loss of Vanna.