I believe in the power of faith and compassion.
As an animal author and activist, I often hear the words “How can you care so much about animals and the environment when there are people suffering”.
This gives me pause and so I wonder: Is the ability to care for humans and as well as non-humans unattainable? I hurt deeply when I learn of people who suffer; those unfortunate souls who are desolate, hungry, saddened, friendless and victimized. My heart breaks for those who dare not speak up for themselves, the vulnerable and the exploited.
But my spirit shatters for the animals who try to make their way in the world and in doing so, are met with loathing and indifference, interference and competition. My compassion for the animals in the world does not take away from my compassion for the people. Compassion is not a substance that must be divided and parceled out, it is massive, it is universal, and it is both proud and humble.
I believe that you do not have to love to show respect. My compassion for the animals of the world is not born of love. Indeed, I find it challenging to find a morsel of love in my heart for a tarantula, though I know there are those who do so easily. Compassion is born of respect for the animals to be who they are. When my cat kills a lizard, I don’t love her in that terrible moment but I respect that the hunter in her was too powerful for her to overcome. She wants to be a lovely pussycat, she does, but the brave tiger in her sees the lizard and, well, here we are.
It’s difficult, too, to love the Orca when I see video footage of his torture of a helpless seal. It is hard to love a snake when he preys upon a fluffy, innocent bunny. So I believe with all my heart that love is not necessary for compassion. Bunny huggers notwithstanding, it’s not about love, it’s about respect.
The Native Americans knew that. Even as they slaughtered animals out of necessity, they did so with reverence and deference. They had faith that each life had a purpose, a destiny, a worth. Chief Seattle, so very wise, said “Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect.”
His words astound me! How did he know this so very long before the advent of “new-age books”, without the help of Peta and Greenpeace and Ralph Nader? How is it possible that he understood that concept more than a century ago?
And so, I believe that when we show compassion to anyone, be it a field mouse or a fallen congressman, we make the world a better place in which all of us can thrive. I believe it doesn’t begin with love, it begins with respect. And that’s what I impart to my students when I engage in humane education activities. This is what I truly believe is right and good.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Dogs Deserve Better!
Dogs Deserve Better is the name of an organization that is an American success story. About five years ago, Tammy Grimes, an amazing activist in Little Rock, Arkansas, decided that she couldn’t stand it anymore. She couldn’t stand the sad faces of dogs chained to doghouses, trees, and all manner of anchor. She had to do something, and she did. She founded Dogs Deserve Better, (DDB) a non-profit organization to help raise awareness of the plight of chained dogs. Tammy is very good at what she does. Now, five years later, she has captured the attention of a nation of dog lovers. She did it by using her creativity, ingenuity and tenacity.
In February, on Valentines Day, Tammy kicks off a campaign to send valentines and biscuits to chained dogs. It’s just one of the many annual campaigns she runs to help these poor animals.
In July, DDB kicks off their “Unchain the Fifty” campaign during which activists from every state will chain themselves to a doghouse, engage in street drama, and distribute literature to help dog owners understand that dogs do not deserve to be chained, they deserve better. Tammy has some powerful Hollywood allies as Robin Williams, Candice Bergen, Jack Hanna, Daisy Fuentes and many more have donated their dog’s collars to help Tammy with her cause.
When I interviewed Tammy for my newest book, we discussed the fact that dogs are social animals. They have a need to be with a “pack” and since we have domesticated dogs, it stands to reason that we are, in fact, their pack. I asked Tammy if this was true. Here’s an excerpt from “Do Dogs Have Belly Buttons? (Adams Media, 2007):
“When I first remove the chains, dogs are often initially shy, frantic for attention, or even fearful which may manifest itself as aggression. This is all due to a lack of socialization and quality human companionship. After little more than a day or two, they begin to integrate with the pack, finding their spot, and it's not long before they recognize me as pack leader. I know this because they 'hang out' wherever I am. In my home, which doubles as the Dogs Deserve Better headquarters and foster training center, we have two fenced areas and two doggie doors. In essence these dogs could be outside all day long if they please, but they rarely are...unless I am. They spend much of the day following me around the house, trying to get me to play with them or interact with them in some way. A lot like my own children!”
Tammy believes that a dog's social neediness is why chaining or penning him for life is truly the worst punishment man can mete out to dogs. As pack animals, they long to be with their family, their pack. Since the pack society of long ago no longer exists, we humans have in essence become their pack, and they suffer terribly when ostracized from us. They've been 'thrown out' of the pack, and they don't know why. They stand looking toward the house, hoping against hope that their human pack members will come out and spend time with them; they act up, barking, whining, digging; or they give up and lay lethargically, not even bothering to show any excitement when a human comes outside.
As pack leaders, humans have to accept the responsibility of dogs who depend on us for their very survival. It's our job to ensure we are firm but loving with our dogs, so they can feel secure in their place in the pack, and we can have harmony in our households. In the wolf pack, a wolf that is kept away from the pack for some transgression panics because his chances of survival in the wild without his family are slim. A lone wolf cannot survive as well as a wolf pack, so it's no wonder a beagle or cocker spaniel who is tied to a tree acts up; he thinks he's doomed.
And many people wonder, if you are going to have a dog chained in the yard, locked up in the garage, or crated all day, why have a dog at all? What’s the point? Most dog lovers want their dogs right where they can see them and enjoy their company. Chained dogs are not effective guard dogs, and they disturb the neighbors. There is just no valid reason to chain a dog. In fact, Palm Beach County has an anti-tethering ordinance that states:
Section 24-D. Animals maintained on a tether must be in an area free of objects that may cause entanglements. All tethers must be a minimum of six (6) feet in length and longer if appropriate for the breed (i.e., Irish Wolfhound, Borzoi, Great Dane, St. Bernard, etc.). Choke type or prong type collars shall be used only while the animal is under the handler’s direction control. Between the hours of 10:00 am and 5:00 pm, animals shall not be on a tether outdoors. (Amendment August 19, 2003 – Ordinance No. 2003-029) E. Animals must be given appropriate daily exercise.
So what can you do to help Tammy and her efforts to make life better for dogs?
Visit www.dogsdeservebetter.com to learn how to help dogs have a better life. There, you will find handouts, ideas for trolleys and fences, download a power-point slideshow and much more.
I write about this because I want to commemorate Tammy and all the people like her who do amazing things. People like Tammy will probably never win a medal, or an award, or even the recognition she deserves. And now, she is being persecuted for "trespassing" on someone's property to save a dying dog. Prosecuted and persecuted for such a noble deed.
In my opinion, Tammy Deserves Better too.
In February, on Valentines Day, Tammy kicks off a campaign to send valentines and biscuits to chained dogs. It’s just one of the many annual campaigns she runs to help these poor animals.
In July, DDB kicks off their “Unchain the Fifty” campaign during which activists from every state will chain themselves to a doghouse, engage in street drama, and distribute literature to help dog owners understand that dogs do not deserve to be chained, they deserve better. Tammy has some powerful Hollywood allies as Robin Williams, Candice Bergen, Jack Hanna, Daisy Fuentes and many more have donated their dog’s collars to help Tammy with her cause.
When I interviewed Tammy for my newest book, we discussed the fact that dogs are social animals. They have a need to be with a “pack” and since we have domesticated dogs, it stands to reason that we are, in fact, their pack. I asked Tammy if this was true. Here’s an excerpt from “Do Dogs Have Belly Buttons? (Adams Media, 2007):
“When I first remove the chains, dogs are often initially shy, frantic for attention, or even fearful which may manifest itself as aggression. This is all due to a lack of socialization and quality human companionship. After little more than a day or two, they begin to integrate with the pack, finding their spot, and it's not long before they recognize me as pack leader. I know this because they 'hang out' wherever I am. In my home, which doubles as the Dogs Deserve Better headquarters and foster training center, we have two fenced areas and two doggie doors. In essence these dogs could be outside all day long if they please, but they rarely are...unless I am. They spend much of the day following me around the house, trying to get me to play with them or interact with them in some way. A lot like my own children!”
Tammy believes that a dog's social neediness is why chaining or penning him for life is truly the worst punishment man can mete out to dogs. As pack animals, they long to be with their family, their pack. Since the pack society of long ago no longer exists, we humans have in essence become their pack, and they suffer terribly when ostracized from us. They've been 'thrown out' of the pack, and they don't know why. They stand looking toward the house, hoping against hope that their human pack members will come out and spend time with them; they act up, barking, whining, digging; or they give up and lay lethargically, not even bothering to show any excitement when a human comes outside.
As pack leaders, humans have to accept the responsibility of dogs who depend on us for their very survival. It's our job to ensure we are firm but loving with our dogs, so they can feel secure in their place in the pack, and we can have harmony in our households. In the wolf pack, a wolf that is kept away from the pack for some transgression panics because his chances of survival in the wild without his family are slim. A lone wolf cannot survive as well as a wolf pack, so it's no wonder a beagle or cocker spaniel who is tied to a tree acts up; he thinks he's doomed.
And many people wonder, if you are going to have a dog chained in the yard, locked up in the garage, or crated all day, why have a dog at all? What’s the point? Most dog lovers want their dogs right where they can see them and enjoy their company. Chained dogs are not effective guard dogs, and they disturb the neighbors. There is just no valid reason to chain a dog. In fact, Palm Beach County has an anti-tethering ordinance that states:
Section 24-D. Animals maintained on a tether must be in an area free of objects that may cause entanglements. All tethers must be a minimum of six (6) feet in length and longer if appropriate for the breed (i.e., Irish Wolfhound, Borzoi, Great Dane, St. Bernard, etc.). Choke type or prong type collars shall be used only while the animal is under the handler’s direction control. Between the hours of 10:00 am and 5:00 pm, animals shall not be on a tether outdoors. (Amendment August 19, 2003 – Ordinance No. 2003-029) E. Animals must be given appropriate daily exercise.
So what can you do to help Tammy and her efforts to make life better for dogs?
Visit www.dogsdeservebetter.com to learn how to help dogs have a better life. There, you will find handouts, ideas for trolleys and fences, download a power-point slideshow and much more.
I write about this because I want to commemorate Tammy and all the people like her who do amazing things. People like Tammy will probably never win a medal, or an award, or even the recognition she deserves. And now, she is being persecuted for "trespassing" on someone's property to save a dying dog. Prosecuted and persecuted for such a noble deed.
In my opinion, Tammy Deserves Better too.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Women Against Palin Blog
Well, I guess it was inevitable, I have been dragged into the national conversation about Sarah Palin. It happened quite by accident when a friend sent me what she considered a humorous video of someone mocking Barack Obama. She had entitled the e-mail “To my Republican friends” and I replied that I was surprised she had any. Of course, that set off a firestorm of e-mails. When I sent her the video of Palin engaged in the hunting of wolves, my friend was understandably shaken, but remains a staunch supporter of McCain nevertheless. She had some of her other GOP friends send e mails as well, trying to get me to see the other side.
Oh I see the other side, I just don’t agree with it.
And here’s the thing I noticed about these replies from her “Republican friends”. They don’t have a lot of cold, hard facts in their toolbox. They rely very heavily on insults, innuendo and flat out lies to wit: Obama=Muslim. They are free with the name-calling and rudeness. All I did was send out a video. I didn’t expect an assault from complete strangers calling me names and lying about my chosen candidate. But it appears that this is how the Republicans play the game. I don’t want to play the game that way. I would like to hear well thought out, intelligent reasoning as to why a person supports this candidate or that one, but I don’t want to be abused in the process. In return, I will listen attentively and patiently, consider my response, if I have one, and hopefully carry on a civilized conversation. This is how I was taught debates work. This is called fair fighting. This is how to argue. It’s how lawyers do it in court when one party disagrees with another. No name calling, no bullying, no insults. I thought I left all that in the grade-school playground.
Anyway, another friend sent me an email about a blog being written by women who are against Palin. She asked me to send my reasons why I don’t like Sarah Palin as a choice for Vice President. Here’s what I had to say about that:
I am a humane educator and the author of a book called "Canines in the Classroom", a book about raising humane children through interactions with animals. I am against Sara Palin because she stands for everything I despise and have spent my whole life fighting...animal abuse. The premise of my book, and my life's work, is that children who hurt animals when they are young grow up to be people who are cruel and abusive bullies as adults; conversely, children who are taught to respect animals and show compassion for vulnerable populations grow up to be solid citizens with good character.
Palin is a hunter, and she has killed hundreds of wolves using a method called aerial hunting, where the bullets rain down from a helicopter after the wolves have been flushed out of the forest and sent running into the open. She has killed moose and elk and does so with in the presence of her children. She has fought against animal welfare activists who have attempted to help wolves and polar bears, and has stubbornly refused to halt seal pup head bashing. Her so-called reverence for life seems to go only as far as those few cells in a woman's body that may or may not become a viable human being. She cares not for our brothers and sisters in the non-human animal realm, and her judgment is suspect, her character dark and sinister. If she becomes the person who is "one heartbeat away from the presidency" then we are in a sorry state of affairs, on a slippery slope back to the dark ages. Joe Biden, on the other hand, has a record of being a friend to the animals, legislatively. The difference is day and night (a very dark night indeed).
I don’t know if the bloggers asking for this information will post it or not, but you can visit their blog yourself at http://womenagainstsarahpalin.blogspot.com/
I don’t know how many people out there in cyberspace agree with my little writings or disagree, but I hope that we show respect for eachother no matter what the issues are, and that we take a stand for something. Anything. And if that stand is for change, and Barack Obama, so much the better.
Oh I see the other side, I just don’t agree with it.
And here’s the thing I noticed about these replies from her “Republican friends”. They don’t have a lot of cold, hard facts in their toolbox. They rely very heavily on insults, innuendo and flat out lies to wit: Obama=Muslim. They are free with the name-calling and rudeness. All I did was send out a video. I didn’t expect an assault from complete strangers calling me names and lying about my chosen candidate. But it appears that this is how the Republicans play the game. I don’t want to play the game that way. I would like to hear well thought out, intelligent reasoning as to why a person supports this candidate or that one, but I don’t want to be abused in the process. In return, I will listen attentively and patiently, consider my response, if I have one, and hopefully carry on a civilized conversation. This is how I was taught debates work. This is called fair fighting. This is how to argue. It’s how lawyers do it in court when one party disagrees with another. No name calling, no bullying, no insults. I thought I left all that in the grade-school playground.
Anyway, another friend sent me an email about a blog being written by women who are against Palin. She asked me to send my reasons why I don’t like Sarah Palin as a choice for Vice President. Here’s what I had to say about that:
I am a humane educator and the author of a book called "Canines in the Classroom", a book about raising humane children through interactions with animals. I am against Sara Palin because she stands for everything I despise and have spent my whole life fighting...animal abuse. The premise of my book, and my life's work, is that children who hurt animals when they are young grow up to be people who are cruel and abusive bullies as adults; conversely, children who are taught to respect animals and show compassion for vulnerable populations grow up to be solid citizens with good character.
Palin is a hunter, and she has killed hundreds of wolves using a method called aerial hunting, where the bullets rain down from a helicopter after the wolves have been flushed out of the forest and sent running into the open. She has killed moose and elk and does so with in the presence of her children. She has fought against animal welfare activists who have attempted to help wolves and polar bears, and has stubbornly refused to halt seal pup head bashing. Her so-called reverence for life seems to go only as far as those few cells in a woman's body that may or may not become a viable human being. She cares not for our brothers and sisters in the non-human animal realm, and her judgment is suspect, her character dark and sinister. If she becomes the person who is "one heartbeat away from the presidency" then we are in a sorry state of affairs, on a slippery slope back to the dark ages. Joe Biden, on the other hand, has a record of being a friend to the animals, legislatively. The difference is day and night (a very dark night indeed).
I don’t know if the bloggers asking for this information will post it or not, but you can visit their blog yourself at http://womenagainstsarahpalin.blogspot.com/
I don’t know how many people out there in cyberspace agree with my little writings or disagree, but I hope that we show respect for eachother no matter what the issues are, and that we take a stand for something. Anything. And if that stand is for change, and Barack Obama, so much the better.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Customize It
Customize it!
Someone stole my Obama bumper sticker right off the bumper of my brand new Jeep, the very same one about which I wrote so lovingly in my last blog entry.
It may not seem like such a big deal to you, and I’m sure it won’t if you’re a McCain supporter, but it’s a big deal to me.
For one, I picked up that particular bumper sticker on my last trip to Washington D.C. I used to travel a lot for business, but not so much anymore. And so it was on a business trip that I found myself with a few hours to myself and took the Metro over to Union Station. Lots of great things to see and do in Union Station! Anyways, they have this adorable little Washington D.C. store there, and for the life of me I wish I could remember the name of it (and I really do wish I could remember the name of it) that sells lots of stuff about politics, elections and Washington D.C. stuff. My son is an ex Coastie, so I found a cute t-shirt for him announcing “No, you don’t know me” with the words Witness Protection Program underneath. Funny stuff, that.
Anyway, I was there last year too and purchased both an Obama sticker and a Hillary sticker, because, well hey, back then, they both had an equal shot. Both of them proclaimed “Make History” and I wanted to be a part of making that history. But it was Barack who won and so it was his bumper sticker I proudly placed on my car. When I went back to DC earlier this year, I found an even better bumper sticker, a black sticker with green writing on it, the “O” in Obama was made from a peace sign. The same peace sign I grew up with back in the sixties. I loved that bumper sticker from the second I saw it and it was the last one there! I would have bought more of them but I couldn’t, being it was the last one there. So I took it home and replaced the boring old Make History sticker with the cool Peace sign sticker.
But then, someone stole it.
My car had occasion to visit the great state of Tennessee without me (I loaned it to my kid) and it was there, in Tennessee, where the bumper sticker came up missing. Now my son fancies himself a rabid Republican. His dad and I have tried to figure out where we went wrong but we couldn’t quite crack that mystery. I mean, I was a welfare mother when he was only a few months old, struggling to make it in a “rich man’s world.” I was a child of the sixties before that, all about free love and peace and rock and roll and all that crap. I love animals and the environment and give to all the right causes. We try to do the right thing by our fellow man. Yet still, we raised a kid who thinks Bush is a hero. I know, I know, I don’t get it either, but here we are. Someone once asked me what the difference between a Republican and a Democrat was, and how you could tell which one you were. I replied “Let’s say we’re all at an Easter egg hunt. The Republicans will take all the eggs they can find, and when their baskets are full and eggs are spilling out, they will go home. A Democrat will fill his basket as best he can (what with all those Republicans running about) and then, when his basket is full, he will stay and try to help the other participants fill their baskets as well.”
I thought it was a pretty good explanation. What I can’t figure out is why my son would rather go home with his eggs than help others get theirs. In real life, he’s the first one to step up and help someone in trouble, but I don’t think he truly understands what’s at stake with the elections, and how Bush is guilty of murdering over 3,000 people in a trumped-up war…..but I digress. I only note it here because it crossed my mind that, well, maybe HE took my bumper sticker off my car. But I asked him, and he said no, and that’s good enough for me.
But back to my story. I have already written about how much I love my Jeep, and how others comment on how they, too, have always wanted a Jeep. But what I didn’t make so clear is that my Jeep is just so… well….me. It looks like a car I would drive, and all the bling on it is all about my personality.
At my age, I think I have earned the privilege of customizing my car and using it to make a statement about who I am. After all, the days of driving the Mommy Car are long over, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t tag along with a man (Daddy, Hubby) as HE picked out my car. Nope. I did this all on my own. I picked out the make, model, year and color. And I bought the car of my dreams.
Then, I put an Irish flag license tag on the front, framed in an “I love my rescued retired greyhound” chrome-plated plate holder. I dangled a dream catcher on the rearview mirror, the same handmade one I bought during a visit at a Cherokee Indian reservation. Interwoven in the Dream Catcher is a miniature rosary that was made in a tiny Mexican village and brought back by the nun who visits them as a missionary. I have a “woof” oval decal on the window, and a little ball with paw prints all over it atop the antennae.
And, I had an Obama bumper sticker on the bumper.
In other words, the car was all mine. It is possibly the only thing, other than my books, that is truly mine. So the taking of my bumper sticker wasn’t just an act of petty thievery or criminal mischief, it was more than that. It was, here again, someone elses’ will being imposed upon my own, something that I thought I was way past.
And I’m sorry that someone is so angry, so threatened, so ignorant that they think they can stop the power of the first amendment by stealing a bumper sticker. I hope that whomever did it has the courage of his convictions. Despite all of it, I hope that the person who did this doesn’t stay home in November. I hope that this person will go out and vote. Because simply stealing a bumper sticker does not an activist make. Voting gives voice.
And if that voice is for McCain, well, I guess that’s better than no voice at all.
Bye Ce.
Someone stole my Obama bumper sticker right off the bumper of my brand new Jeep, the very same one about which I wrote so lovingly in my last blog entry.
It may not seem like such a big deal to you, and I’m sure it won’t if you’re a McCain supporter, but it’s a big deal to me.
For one, I picked up that particular bumper sticker on my last trip to Washington D.C. I used to travel a lot for business, but not so much anymore. And so it was on a business trip that I found myself with a few hours to myself and took the Metro over to Union Station. Lots of great things to see and do in Union Station! Anyways, they have this adorable little Washington D.C. store there, and for the life of me I wish I could remember the name of it (and I really do wish I could remember the name of it) that sells lots of stuff about politics, elections and Washington D.C. stuff. My son is an ex Coastie, so I found a cute t-shirt for him announcing “No, you don’t know me” with the words Witness Protection Program underneath. Funny stuff, that.
Anyway, I was there last year too and purchased both an Obama sticker and a Hillary sticker, because, well hey, back then, they both had an equal shot. Both of them proclaimed “Make History” and I wanted to be a part of making that history. But it was Barack who won and so it was his bumper sticker I proudly placed on my car. When I went back to DC earlier this year, I found an even better bumper sticker, a black sticker with green writing on it, the “O” in Obama was made from a peace sign. The same peace sign I grew up with back in the sixties. I loved that bumper sticker from the second I saw it and it was the last one there! I would have bought more of them but I couldn’t, being it was the last one there. So I took it home and replaced the boring old Make History sticker with the cool Peace sign sticker.
But then, someone stole it.
My car had occasion to visit the great state of Tennessee without me (I loaned it to my kid) and it was there, in Tennessee, where the bumper sticker came up missing. Now my son fancies himself a rabid Republican. His dad and I have tried to figure out where we went wrong but we couldn’t quite crack that mystery. I mean, I was a welfare mother when he was only a few months old, struggling to make it in a “rich man’s world.” I was a child of the sixties before that, all about free love and peace and rock and roll and all that crap. I love animals and the environment and give to all the right causes. We try to do the right thing by our fellow man. Yet still, we raised a kid who thinks Bush is a hero. I know, I know, I don’t get it either, but here we are. Someone once asked me what the difference between a Republican and a Democrat was, and how you could tell which one you were. I replied “Let’s say we’re all at an Easter egg hunt. The Republicans will take all the eggs they can find, and when their baskets are full and eggs are spilling out, they will go home. A Democrat will fill his basket as best he can (what with all those Republicans running about) and then, when his basket is full, he will stay and try to help the other participants fill their baskets as well.”
I thought it was a pretty good explanation. What I can’t figure out is why my son would rather go home with his eggs than help others get theirs. In real life, he’s the first one to step up and help someone in trouble, but I don’t think he truly understands what’s at stake with the elections, and how Bush is guilty of murdering over 3,000 people in a trumped-up war…..but I digress. I only note it here because it crossed my mind that, well, maybe HE took my bumper sticker off my car. But I asked him, and he said no, and that’s good enough for me.
But back to my story. I have already written about how much I love my Jeep, and how others comment on how they, too, have always wanted a Jeep. But what I didn’t make so clear is that my Jeep is just so… well….me. It looks like a car I would drive, and all the bling on it is all about my personality.
At my age, I think I have earned the privilege of customizing my car and using it to make a statement about who I am. After all, the days of driving the Mommy Car are long over, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t tag along with a man (Daddy, Hubby) as HE picked out my car. Nope. I did this all on my own. I picked out the make, model, year and color. And I bought the car of my dreams.
Then, I put an Irish flag license tag on the front, framed in an “I love my rescued retired greyhound” chrome-plated plate holder. I dangled a dream catcher on the rearview mirror, the same handmade one I bought during a visit at a Cherokee Indian reservation. Interwoven in the Dream Catcher is a miniature rosary that was made in a tiny Mexican village and brought back by the nun who visits them as a missionary. I have a “woof” oval decal on the window, and a little ball with paw prints all over it atop the antennae.
And, I had an Obama bumper sticker on the bumper.
In other words, the car was all mine. It is possibly the only thing, other than my books, that is truly mine. So the taking of my bumper sticker wasn’t just an act of petty thievery or criminal mischief, it was more than that. It was, here again, someone elses’ will being imposed upon my own, something that I thought I was way past.
And I’m sorry that someone is so angry, so threatened, so ignorant that they think they can stop the power of the first amendment by stealing a bumper sticker. I hope that whomever did it has the courage of his convictions. Despite all of it, I hope that the person who did this doesn’t stay home in November. I hope that this person will go out and vote. Because simply stealing a bumper sticker does not an activist make. Voting gives voice.
And if that voice is for McCain, well, I guess that’s better than no voice at all.
Bye Ce.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Jeepers Creepers
Hello, it's me! Me, the schmuck that purchased the last SUV seconds before gas prices went through the roof. I am here, right here, trying to find a way to defend my decision.
But hey, we’ve all made mistakes, right? I mean, as mistakes go, this one isn’t all that bad.
Hear me out.
There I was, happy as a clam, driving my sweet little, gas-sipping Toyota Camry, never dreaming that I would ever find a reason to give it up. I mean, this little baby had 110,000 miles on it and was still going strong. Sure, it looked like some old man’s car. It was grey, with grey interior, and it wasn’t very sexy, or racy, or trendy, but wow, was it great on gas. And when Tabitha (that’s my Standard Poodle) and I would go to the beach or the dog park or just about anywhere, we were comfortable, it was a comfortable ride. Tabitha would stretch out on the back seat, lounging about while I chauffeured her around town.
Life was good.
Then came Murph.
Who is Murph?
Only the best Golden Retriever in the retrieving business, that’s who! He’s a sweet old galoot of a dog who started out life as a puppy having been bred solely for the purpose of helping some wheelchair-bound soul who needed assistance getting around. But this guy found his way out of a life of servitude, smart cookie that he is, and this Golden Retriever refused to, well, retrieve! He could not be taught, trained, wheedled, educated, sweet-talked, cajoled, coaxed, wheedled or bribed into picking up objects dropped on the floor so that they could be handed over. And really, that’s a pretty necessary skill for a service dog. What good is a service dog who won’t serve?
So he was looking for a home and, what with the “Sucker” tattoo on my forehead and all, wormed his way into my heart, home and family. Now, I can’t imagine life without My Murph.
‘Cept for one thing…..remember the Camry? Well it wasn’t big enough for two big dogs to lounge around in the back. It was only big enough for me and Tabitha. Oh it’s not that I didn’t try, I surely did (and don’t call me Shirley)….sorry…couldn’t resist.
I tried very hard. I pushed and shoved and folded and shmushed but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get two dogs to fit on one little backseat. So, it was time for a new car.
C’mon, work with me here, a new dog is as good a reason as any to buy a new car, yes?
Here’s the thing, I’ve always wanted a Jeep. I don’t know why, but I think of Jeeps and I think of rebels. I think of cruising down the beach and bouncing along mountain roads and all kinds of cool things. I’ve always wanted a bright yellow Mustang Convertible too, but no ‘Stang can hold two big dogs so it was off to the Jeep dealership for me, dogs in tow.
The Jeep Liberty worked out beautifully. It’s big and roomy and so cool looking. Mine is bright red and has a satellite radio and the seats fold down making a huge queen-size bed in the back for Tabitha and Murphy to spread out and ride in style. I love my Jeep, I really do. I got it in January and the honeymoon is not over yet. I really love my Jeep. I guess it’s true what they say, “It’s a Jeep thing…..you wouldn’t understand.”
But a funny thing happened on my way through menopause. My Jeep makes me feel really hip and brings me back to my motorcycle-riding youth when I went cruisin’ down the beach road in my polka-dot bikini on my electric-blue Kawasaki crotch rocket. It takes me back to a happier, more carefree time and I like that a lot.
But then I found out something curious. A lot of people now confess to me that they, too, have always wanted a Jeep. They will admire my car and say “I’ve always wanted a Jeep” to which I always cry “Me Too!”
What’s going on here? I thought we were all supposed to be lusting after BMW’s and Porches and Mercedes Benzes. You remember Mercedes Benz, don’t you? Oh Lord, won’t you buy me? Worked hard all my life, no help from my friends… Janis got it. Why don’t I? Oh my God, could that possibly mean that I really don’t want to be a “have not” after all?
Allow me to explain. Whenever I throw blood on someone wearing a fur coat (all in a day’s work) or burn down a Hummer or shame my leather-bound, circus-going friends (whips and chains belong in the bedroom!) I always hear the tired old refrain “It’s just the haves vs. the have nots. She’s just jealous because she doesn’t have a bunny-fur coat….money for ossa bucca or tickets for the circus and because she’s jealous, she has to pretend she is against this stuff but she’s really just a have not.”
Yep, that’s what they say. THEY, in THEIR infinite wisdom, say things like that all that time.
In your face, Haves, guess what, we don’t want your shit. We want Jeeps. Jeeps!
That’s what woman of a certain age are craving these days. And I would love to talk to a psychiatrist or psychologist or one of those people who take all the fun out of dysfunctional, and find out what’s going on here. I mean, why Jeeps? Is it a TAWANDA syndrome? Are we harking back to a more carefree time?
Who cares?
I have always wanted a Jeep and now I have one, thanks to an underachieving Golden Retriever.
Like I said, I love my Murph!
But hey, we’ve all made mistakes, right? I mean, as mistakes go, this one isn’t all that bad.
Hear me out.
There I was, happy as a clam, driving my sweet little, gas-sipping Toyota Camry, never dreaming that I would ever find a reason to give it up. I mean, this little baby had 110,000 miles on it and was still going strong. Sure, it looked like some old man’s car. It was grey, with grey interior, and it wasn’t very sexy, or racy, or trendy, but wow, was it great on gas. And when Tabitha (that’s my Standard Poodle) and I would go to the beach or the dog park or just about anywhere, we were comfortable, it was a comfortable ride. Tabitha would stretch out on the back seat, lounging about while I chauffeured her around town.
Life was good.
Then came Murph.
Who is Murph?
Only the best Golden Retriever in the retrieving business, that’s who! He’s a sweet old galoot of a dog who started out life as a puppy having been bred solely for the purpose of helping some wheelchair-bound soul who needed assistance getting around. But this guy found his way out of a life of servitude, smart cookie that he is, and this Golden Retriever refused to, well, retrieve! He could not be taught, trained, wheedled, educated, sweet-talked, cajoled, coaxed, wheedled or bribed into picking up objects dropped on the floor so that they could be handed over. And really, that’s a pretty necessary skill for a service dog. What good is a service dog who won’t serve?
So he was looking for a home and, what with the “Sucker” tattoo on my forehead and all, wormed his way into my heart, home and family. Now, I can’t imagine life without My Murph.
‘Cept for one thing…..remember the Camry? Well it wasn’t big enough for two big dogs to lounge around in the back. It was only big enough for me and Tabitha. Oh it’s not that I didn’t try, I surely did (and don’t call me Shirley)….sorry…couldn’t resist.
I tried very hard. I pushed and shoved and folded and shmushed but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get two dogs to fit on one little backseat. So, it was time for a new car.
C’mon, work with me here, a new dog is as good a reason as any to buy a new car, yes?
Here’s the thing, I’ve always wanted a Jeep. I don’t know why, but I think of Jeeps and I think of rebels. I think of cruising down the beach and bouncing along mountain roads and all kinds of cool things. I’ve always wanted a bright yellow Mustang Convertible too, but no ‘Stang can hold two big dogs so it was off to the Jeep dealership for me, dogs in tow.
The Jeep Liberty worked out beautifully. It’s big and roomy and so cool looking. Mine is bright red and has a satellite radio and the seats fold down making a huge queen-size bed in the back for Tabitha and Murphy to spread out and ride in style. I love my Jeep, I really do. I got it in January and the honeymoon is not over yet. I really love my Jeep. I guess it’s true what they say, “It’s a Jeep thing…..you wouldn’t understand.”
But a funny thing happened on my way through menopause. My Jeep makes me feel really hip and brings me back to my motorcycle-riding youth when I went cruisin’ down the beach road in my polka-dot bikini on my electric-blue Kawasaki crotch rocket. It takes me back to a happier, more carefree time and I like that a lot.
But then I found out something curious. A lot of people now confess to me that they, too, have always wanted a Jeep. They will admire my car and say “I’ve always wanted a Jeep” to which I always cry “Me Too!”
What’s going on here? I thought we were all supposed to be lusting after BMW’s and Porches and Mercedes Benzes. You remember Mercedes Benz, don’t you? Oh Lord, won’t you buy me? Worked hard all my life, no help from my friends… Janis got it. Why don’t I? Oh my God, could that possibly mean that I really don’t want to be a “have not” after all?
Allow me to explain. Whenever I throw blood on someone wearing a fur coat (all in a day’s work) or burn down a Hummer or shame my leather-bound, circus-going friends (whips and chains belong in the bedroom!) I always hear the tired old refrain “It’s just the haves vs. the have nots. She’s just jealous because she doesn’t have a bunny-fur coat….money for ossa bucca or tickets for the circus and because she’s jealous, she has to pretend she is against this stuff but she’s really just a have not.”
Yep, that’s what they say. THEY, in THEIR infinite wisdom, say things like that all that time.
In your face, Haves, guess what, we don’t want your shit. We want Jeeps. Jeeps!
That’s what woman of a certain age are craving these days. And I would love to talk to a psychiatrist or psychologist or one of those people who take all the fun out of dysfunctional, and find out what’s going on here. I mean, why Jeeps? Is it a TAWANDA syndrome? Are we harking back to a more carefree time?
Who cares?
I have always wanted a Jeep and now I have one, thanks to an underachieving Golden Retriever.
Like I said, I love my Murph!
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