Wednesday, July 30, 2014
WE ARE LEGION
Now and then, especially after a particularly unfruitful argument about the virtues of Pits, invariably with some utterly ill-educated person, I feel like shutting down. Just let me live with my dogs in peace. And 'they" can kiss my butt. By "they" I mean a cadre of semi-humans who walk in and into darkness, with nothing but ugliness on the inside, black hearts and all, spewing forth miserable agenda, usually driven by greed, or pride, or the search for some other Earthly hell, because they must be living in hell, otherwise how can we possibly explain this lack of mercy, lack of compassion, and lack of ability to love. Luckily their meaningless, incoherent, and oinking is mostly silent text, with the occasional squealing in some never-watched medium.
The only thing missing from this ugly, ugly film is the sound of jackboots hitting the asphalt as they march our dogs to gas chambers and crematoria.
Mendacity is their name and prevarication is what they do. I know all this and I should be able to dismiss them all as pimples on the World's ass, but, now and then, they get to me.
Then, I remember... I got into this with naïveté, ignorance, but pure, albeit selfish, heart. I happily went my ways, learning as much and as well as I usually do. First the exhilaration of new discoveries and the pleasure of training. Then the satisfaction of seeing animals' response. Then tragedy. Rebirth of commitment with a new understanding.
Somewhere along the way, the game became serious labor. It turns out I have become a Pit Bull activist. And I am not alone.