When dad and I started this page nearly five years ago, it was in direct response to the steady barrage of negativity that seems to fuel social media. The abused animals, the crooked politicians(are there any other kind?), the tales of climate change, it’s going to get hot/cold, coffee’s going to kill you, coffee’s good for you, medical marijuana is the devil’s lettuce, ditchweed cures all ailments, they’re coming to take your guns, there are too many guns to take them all, dogs and cats living together in a state of immoral cohabitation, it NEVER seems to end…
We had had enough. We started my page back then as a non-saccharine alternative to not just the negative, but also an insulin shot across the bow of the sugar coated Hallmarky touchy-feely pages that can’t seem to convey their messages without a plethora of weepy music. You don’t have to tell me how to feel, give me the privilege of figuring it out for myself(here’s looking at you, Sarah McMisery). Life is rough, and to pretend otherwise is disingenuous, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t have fun with it.
Where else are you going to go where you can read the success story of a ragged dog in a crate, then be edified by the tale of dad’s unfortunate experiences with a colostomy bag? People ask us where we come up with this stuff, and the only answer is:
It’s life. It’s what happens when you’re making other plans.
This is why we immediately delete any negative stories THAT WE CAN NOT AFFECT. Why dwell on situations overseas, or in Beltway politics. or on an animal abuse story that is years old , when there are so many needs that we can affect right in our own backyards?
A wise man once told me that humans are hard-wired as a species to only handle as much bad news as they can personally affect at that time. The Ancient Ones only had to deal with what directly affected their immediate families. Then came tribes; still manageable. But it began to change with the advent of towns, cities, states, countries; with each development came less and less perceived control to make a real difference in the overall plan.
Now we live in a digital age, where we are bombarded daily with incessant crap that we have no chance of affecting. So if we can’t fix everything, the response seems to be to do nothing. We then retreat into our lonely neutral corners, and bury our heads in a world of “professional” sports, online porn, political posturing, chemical and emotional addictions, et al, each as confining as the crate that once imprisoned me.
And two of the most confining crates? Hatred and fear.
When someone hears my story for the first time, two questions inevitably arise: do you think the person who left you to starve realizes what you have become? Do you harbor any resentment towards that person? And then comes the statement every time that they hear I returned to my crate until dad and Zach came back with the truck: “it’s all she knew!”.
Well, that was true at the time, but it’s not true now. I didn’t come out of a physical crate only to be controlled by the imaginary crates of fear and hatred; I ain’t got time for that. Who cares what the mouth-breather that left me wonders about? There are roads to be traveled, loins to be aired, butts to be sniffed, wide open places in which to get my flounce on with wild abandon.
So by order of My Royal Highness, I hereby declare this page to be an official Dehatrified Zone. As in “he who angers you, controls you”. Got a brutal story of abuse and neglect that we cannot affect? Check it at the door. Got a political statement that you just HAVE to make? Make it somewhere else, unless it’s funny, then bring it on. But the basis of good humor is a mutual respect regardless of differing viewpoints; I claim the right as Benevolent Dictator to be an equal opportunity offender, regardless of any and all party lines.
And did someone say “party”? As 1/25/20 marks the five year anniversary of my emancipation from the crate, we are going to have one, and everyone is invited. More details to follow…
But everyone knows it’s always a party at the Casa del Whackos!
