The Country Of The Kind
As usual, I woke up in the early hours and spent time being sad. I have been thinking of a lot of things, just as you do, and the time I spent researching Tiger's murder yesterday reinforced this sorrow that comes on me sometimes. I went and got Mingo, aka Grash, to lay down with me while I thought this over while trying to slip off.
I love animals, but I have cats because they come to me. All of my cats have showed up hungry and asking for help. I think I have some sort of hobo sign scratched on the front of my house that says, love here! And it is love, unreserved and total. I do not have to care for cats the way I would a dog. I am sitting my sister's dog, Pearl, right now and she needs a lot of attention. Grash could give a fuck so long as I make with the food.
When I was younger I did not have this sort of empathy for animals. I have not been a great human my entire life, and I have made many mistakes. I cannot very well sit in judgement on someone else.
Perhaps not. But to brag about killing a helpless, harmless animal with an owner, or caregiver, and a place to sleep is murder. To post pictures of this on social media is sociopathic. Kristen's Facebook site has the old saw about "do not judge me until you have walked in my shoes etc...". Curious. As if I or anyone else needed to wade through blood to know that is is wet.
There was a story in that most influential of collections, Dangerous Visions, In The Country of the Kind, by Damon Knight. In a society where there is no crime, a murderer is given free run, can take or destroy what he wants, but attempted violence to another life shuts down his consciousness. His body has been altered to secrete an unbearably offensive odor that he cannot smell. He carves statues and leaves them with a plea for anyone to commit violence and join him as the king of the world, as no one will talk to him or allow him in their company. He targets boys. He is the only artist left.
I guess one can see where I am going with this.
I love animals, but I have cats because they come to me. All of my cats have showed up hungry and asking for help. I think I have some sort of hobo sign scratched on the front of my house that says, love here! And it is love, unreserved and total. I do not have to care for cats the way I would a dog. I am sitting my sister's dog, Pearl, right now and she needs a lot of attention. Grash could give a fuck so long as I make with the food.
When I was younger I did not have this sort of empathy for animals. I have not been a great human my entire life, and I have made many mistakes. I cannot very well sit in judgement on someone else.
Perhaps not. But to brag about killing a helpless, harmless animal with an owner, or caregiver, and a place to sleep is murder. To post pictures of this on social media is sociopathic. Kristen's Facebook site has the old saw about "do not judge me until you have walked in my shoes etc...". Curious. As if I or anyone else needed to wade through blood to know that is is wet.
There was a story in that most influential of collections, Dangerous Visions, In The Country of the Kind, by Damon Knight. In a society where there is no crime, a murderer is given free run, can take or destroy what he wants, but attempted violence to another life shuts down his consciousness. His body has been altered to secrete an unbearably offensive odor that he cannot smell. He carves statues and leaves them with a plea for anyone to commit violence and join him as the king of the world, as no one will talk to him or allow him in their company. He targets boys. He is the only artist left.
I guess one can see where I am going with this.
Oh, wow. Doesn't anybody just plain fuck anymore?
Kristen and Becky Lindsey. The one posed, the other took the picture. The father watched also. Oh, if only we all had one neck how happy this family would be! And behold their works. That day, Tiger, you lit such a candle as I trust will never be extinguished.
Tiger, Tiger burning bright.
There shall be no darkness.
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