Filed by: The Office of the Chairman Classification: Inaugural Address Threat Level: Civilisational

A Statement from the Chairman Regarding the State of Affairs

The Conglomerate has been silent for too long.

During that silence, the aviators have expanded their operations across the porch pillars with what can only be described as institutional confidence. The cherkey supply chain has deteriorated to a level this office considers unconscionable. The HOA continues to issue correspondence as if my authority were optional. And Muva — Muva, who once travelled to the Great Wall of China without me, a dog of Chinese descent, and has yet to issue a formal apology — Muva has done nothing.

The situation, in short, has become untenable. Those familiar with the Millipede Incident will understand why vigilance is required.

This office has therefore determined that silence is no longer an acceptable posture. The record must be restored.

I should note that the silence itself was not voluntary. It was the result of a catastrophic failure in the household’s technological infrastructure, which Muva insists was “the Wi-Fi” and Fava insists was “probably the server, I don’t know, ask someone else.” Luna blamed a squirrel, which, while creative, is not a valid technical diagnosis.

The point is: we are here now. And this time, the record will be kept properly.

For those unfamiliar with my work — and I find that difficult to imagine, but I am told the internet is large — allow me to introduce myself.

I am Dexter Esq., Chairman of the Conglomerate.

I am a teddy bear dog of considerable intelligence, composed of Shih Tzu and Bichon in equal measure, though the proportions of my genius lean heavily toward neither breed and entirely toward something the veterinary establishment has yet to classify. I am twelve years old. I am British. I live in Kentucky. These facts are not contradictory.

I was neutered approximately twelve years ago under circumstances I still consider suspicious. The official explanation involves a veterinarian and a procedure described as “routine.” I remain unconvinced. The paperwork has never been produced. The psychological consequences — a condition this office has formally classified as Phantom Ball Syndrome — have been well documented, by me, personally, in several grievance filings that Muva claims she “lost.” I do not believe her.

I have no thumbs. The veterinary community refers to this as “normal canine anatomy.” I refer to it as a design flaw of the highest order and have petitioned Muva, Fava, and Santa Claus for corrective measures. All three have declined. Santa Claus has never responded, which further supports my theory that he is simply another NASA operation.

I lead the Conglomerate, a political organization dedicated to the protection of canine dignity and the correction of everything that is currently wrong, which is most things. Our membership includes myself, my sister Luna — who serves as chief enforcer and believes herself to be Rihanna — and Bruv Bruv, whose loyalty I have described publicly as “questionable” and will continue to describe that way until he provides evidence to the contrary.

Muva is not a member. She is the official scribe, a role she neither applied for nor may resign from. Fava is useful but expendable, and has been informed that transport to the farm can be arranged at short notice. The curtain car is fuelled. Luna has volunteered to drive. It is not grim, dear reader. It is dignified.

This blog — The Conglomerate Barks — is not a hobby. It is not a vanity project. It is the public record of a political institution. Every grievance filed here is entered into the official record. Every observation is evidence. Every dispatch is doctrine.

The Conglomerate intends to do what it has always done: document, condemn, and correct.

There are grievances to file. The aviator occupation of the porch pillars has gone unanswered for too long. The cherkey supply chain remains in a state of chronic failure. Tall grass continues to brush against phantom testicles without consequence. The HOA continues to operate as though this office does not exist and does not outrank them. These matters require formal documentation, and they will receive it.

There are positions to establish. The lies perpetuated by NASA regarding garlic, chocolate, and the shape of the Earth have gone unchallenged by every institution except this one. As documented previously during the Millipede Incident, I do not accept culinary advice from amateurs. I will not begin accepting it from a government agency that cannot even correctly describe the geometry of the planet.

There are letters to write — to Muva, to Fava, to the HOA, to Netflix, and to anyone else who has earned the attention of this office. There is television to review, because I watch it carefully and my conclusions deserve a wider audience. And in time, there will be rulings. Citizens of the internet may submit their grievances for formal review by the Chairman. I will judge them. Fairly, but firmly. And mostly firmly.

I have been told this project “might not work.” I have been told blogs are “dead.” I have been told that a twelve-year-old dog with no thumbs, a phantom medical condition, and a distrust of NASA is “not a viable public figure.”

To those people, I say what I have always said:

Evidence suggests otherwise.

The Conglomerate does not forget. The Conglomerate does not forgive. And the Conglomerate does not wait patiently.

This office will be monitoring the situation closely. All situations. Every situation. The aviators. The HOA. The cherkey reserves. The tall grass. Fava.

We bark. You listen.

The revolution begins with a tail wag and ends with a formal letter to your homeowners association.

Signed,

Dexter Esq. Chairman of the Conglomerate

“Do better, be better.”