What is UP with THIS?…
Is it just me, or does anyone else feel like that they could use a borderline scalding hot shower to wash this electronic scum off off of our collective backs? Or better yet, to take a dive into a icy mountain stream where the roar of the rapids can drown out the cacophony of crapola that they’re slamming into our subconscious?
I used to believe that what the Book of Fake fed us was based on a algorithm determined by what we had expressed some interest in, but I do not believe that any more. Think about it; I’m a dog. And not just any dog, but a dog that has consistently expressed a hearty repulsion to all things political, as I believe that the right and left are both wings on the same turkey. You would think that such a stance would not cause those that would divide us to send a plethora of negative swill my way, but if you did think that, you would be wrong.
From it’s conception back in 2015, my page has always been about rising above, opening crates, coming out, lifting up, and more than just a little bit of good natured trash talking. So based on this, why would they single my page out for such a firehosing of gutter sludge? And yes, I realize that it’s not just my page, but it sure seems like it sometimes.
And deep down, I know exactly why both sides are doing what they do. While it is true that he who angers you controls you, he who combines the hatred with a catalyst of fear increases their control exponentially.
Well, they might be selling, but I ain’t buying. I have NOT came this far to consider exchanging my vile crate built of plastic and steel and left on the side of a remote country road for another just as claustrophobic but instead located between my ears.
How’s THAT for a run-on sentence?
The following is the last stanza of one of my poems from a few years back:
“Rise and shake, turn on the light,
What’s wrong is wrong, there’s much more right
Are there any boundaries left we can’t explore?
Thus quoth the Charlie: ‘Nevermore'”.
Turn on that light.. Shake off the darkness. Start with your nose and let the shake rotate down your body until in it terminates with your tail twitching it off into, well, where it goes. If there’s any left in my vicinity, I give it a few good backwards kicks even if it means sending grass and leaves flying all over Dad. He’s used to it; he can take it.
We be of one blood, ye and I.