Selective Sympathy and Forgiveness‏

 I truly love the National Geographic channel.

The reason I can't get enough of NATGEO is it is non-stop programming of animal documentaries.

Earlier today, I watched a show called, "Caught in the Act".  Basically, the show is a random display of videos filmed by people who happen to be out on African safaris. The videos showcase unusual animal behaviors or rarely seen acts of animal aggression.

Today's episode had the usual scenes:  lions and hyenas fighting over a carcass, two giraffes fighting, an angry rhino, lions killing a wildebeest and so on.

But one video really caught my attention:  It was a pride of lions attacking and killing an elephant.

Usually lions avoid elephants for fear of being trampled and of course, killing an elephant is a long and exhausting task.

As this rare attack was being filmed, you could hear all of the women in the safari crying; begging for the lions to leave the poor elephant alone.

I admit I was rooting for the elephant, too.

After this highly emotional video was played, the next video showed some lions attacking a zebra.  The reaction by those people in the safari was quite different.  Nobody was crying.  Nobody was rooting for the zebra.

Of course, the human connection to elephants is much stronger than that of a zebra.  Hell, as children we learn to love elephants because they sit in chairs and perform other human like acts at the circus.

Zebras, on the other hand, are basically striped horses.  And we all know, horses are boring.

Anyway, it always intrigues me how selective we, as humans, are when it comes to our sympathies.  

Suburban white kids vs. Poor white kids or minority children

When a child is kidnapped and murdered and he/she happens to be white, he/she will get a lot more press than one who happens to fall into a different economic and racial bracket.

It's been 15 years and Jon Benet Ramsey is still in the news today.

Dolphins vs. Tuna

Animal rights people have strived to make certain we are all eating dolphin safe tuna (basically, tuna that was not caught in the types of nets that commonly kill dolphins).

Animal rights people seem to be more sympathetic towards dolphins than tuna.  Aren't tuna as much a living being as dolphins?  I guess dolphins are just cuter than tuna so we care a little more about them.

Really, tuna are simply the zebras chickens of the sea.


Not only are we selective when it comes to our sympathies, we tend to be selective when it comes to forgiveness.

A preacher can commit adultery and his congregation will be much quicker to forgive than say if our local politician commits the same act.Many preachers have actually seen their "ministries" become more profitable after a scandal.

Our prisons are filled with murderers and rapists who receive hundreds of letters a week from doting single men and women.

It's almost like we are selective in who we forgive as long as it fits our own needs.Personally, I am certain that I have held grudges over the years with those who didn't suit any of my other needs.  I am much more willing to forgive the attractive woman who screws me over than I am at forgiving the "unattractive" friend that commits the same act against me.

But I suppose that's human nature.

Even in the online world, we see loyalties change rapidly.  Public opinion turns on one person and others will quickly delete that online friend. 

I will bet that just about everyone has deleted someone from their friends list because they did them wrong or said something to piss you off.  And I will also guess that remaining on your friends list are other people who have said or done something quite similarly.

Just like in the real world, we are selective in who we forgive and who we eliminate from our lives.


Recently, Lance Armstrong appeared on Oprah to finally admit that he used performance enhancing drugs during his cycling career.  

This is a man that did the impossible; overcame cancer and then won seven Tour de France tournaments in a row.

Despite several witnesses and former friends claiming they have personally watched him using these drugs, he vehemently denied it.  He even claimed a failed drug test was the result of a conspiracy to ruin his reputation and career.  For 15 years, he blatantly lied about his drug use, denied ever cheating and even sued several people for libel.

His lies and denial, ironically, ruined the careers and reputations of some of his rivals.

So here we are, the voices of world opinion are now reacting.  Some are angry.  Others, now view him in a more favorable light.

A good looking rich athlete who used his fame and fortune in the cancer charity called LiveStrong is now, once again, center stage but this time for doing something cowardly or courageous; depending on your perspective.

Humans are typically very forgiving; especially if it will serve our own needs or agenda or perception.

We are selective in our sympathies and even more so, in who we forgive.

The Many Car Rides of a Dog's Life

The last two things I said to my black lab of nine years was I am sorry and Thank You.  I probably said both of those things a hundred times to him during that last car ride before he took his final breath.

I remember three specific things about Buddy's life:

His first ride in my car, as a puppy, after we met at the pound.

His final ride in my car, nine years later.

And all the years in between.

I remember everything about that dog. 

Wanna experience joy from a dog's perspective?  Just ask, "Wanna go for a ride?"
Wanna see a dog smile?  Just roll the car windows down when driving.

Wanna see a dog melt your heart?  Just close the car door without letting him in.

Buddy was full of life.  He loved walks. Chasing tennis balls.  Playing hide and seek.  Laying on my bed.  Following me everywhere.

And he loved riding in my car.

He was full of wonder.  Everything was an adventure.  We talk about stopping and smelling the roses.  Well, Buddy did just that.  In fact, he stopped and smelled everything.

He was a miracle dog.  He was in my life during the perfect time. 

It was when I lost a great friend did I witness how extraordinary my dog was.

Wanna see a dog mourn? 
Wanna see how much your dog loves you?

Just be sad.
You don't even have to cry.

He will know.  He will sense it.

And then he will be sad right along with you.  And then he will try to comfort you.

I don't know how I would have survived those sad and lonely periods in my life without Buddy.

A year after losing a great friend and my dog serving and comforting me, the tables were turned.  Buddy was diagnosed with cancer. 

It was now my turn to serve and comfort him. 



He hadn't eaten in days so I knew a bone or scraps would not interest him.

His lack of strength and energy was witnessed by the fact, he wouldn't raise his head.  He just laid there; occasionally, whimpered and watched me. 

Wanna see a man feel helpless?  Just watch him as he watches his dog suffer.


When a dog approaches the end of his life, it's much different than losing a family member or a friend.  In a way, it's a lot more difficult.

And the reason I say this is because the end of a dog's life usually is determined by a ride in the car. 

Humans either die in their sleep, in an accident or in an expected manner. 

With dogs, we are their executioner.  We are their mercy killers.

When the day arrived to end Buddy's suffering, I wanted to grant him one last wish.

If there was anything that might excite him, give him one last smile and let him know I was both sorry and grateful for him, I knew what would work:

A car ride.

Buddy, who had barely moved from his dog bed over the last few days, was watching me carefully.  I grabbed my car keys, shook them so they made that jingling noise, his ears perked up and then I heard the most beautiful sound in the world:

It was two loud thuds.

It was his tail hitting the floor.


BUDDY WAS TRYING TO WAG HIS TAIL FOR THE FIRST TIME IN WEEKS!

And then it happened:

Wanna go for a ride?

Buddy sprang to his feet.  I opened the car door and he hopped in. 

And then he smiled.


We drove around for about an hour with the car window down and his head proudly blowing against the wind.  I wanted him to explore this world one last time.

And he did.

The car ride ended at the vet's office. 

Buddy knew why we were there.  Tears were streaming down my face.  I was mere minutes away from saying goodbye to my best friend.

When the vet led us to the back room where good dogs go to die, Buddy led the way.

When we reached the back room, I lifted him up and placed him gently onto the table.

As he laid on the cold steel bed of that table, seconds after the needle was administered, Buddy licked my hand.

And then his soft brown eyes closed forever.


I like to think that Buddy left this world on his own terms.

It started with a ride in the car when he was two months old and ended with a car ride at the age of nine.  

Gun rights. Gun wrongs.

Let's get something straight real quick:  It is not government's job to give and take.  It is their job to preserve and defend. 

The 2nd amendment of the United Stated constitution does not give us the right to bear arms.

Let me repeat this slowly:  When our founders drafted the Bill of Rights, they did NOT sit around a table and say, "Let's allow all present and future Americans have guns." 

Here is what the 2nd amendment says, "the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed".

It is a simple phrase because it is a simple concept.  More so, it is a simple TRUTH.

Let me quickly tell you what this means:  We are born free.  It is our God given right to own guns.  It is a basic human right.  In fact, the right to bear arms is more of a human right than to eat or get a job.  It is our God given right from the moment we are born with free will to defend ourselves and our family from all enemies; foreign and domestic.

This whole debate on gun control is absurd.  If you truly believe an inanimate object is responsible for human behavior, then decades of conditioning and programming have enslaved you.

We are not slaves. 

If the president and all members of Congress have a right to armed bodyguards 24 hours a day, then, we as free people, have that same right to defend ourselves from POTENTIAL threats.

If you want to believe that our founders did not intend for us to have assault weapons, then be prepared to hand over your freedom of speech on the internet as well because our founders never mentioned the internet in the first amendment when upholding our God given right of free speech.

The 2nd amendment is simple:  Government cannot infringe on our God given right to bear arms.  We control our own destiny and our freedoms are inherent from birth. 

Freedom is dangerous.

However, a society where only government and police have guns is far MORE dangerous.  The ashes of history prove that.

A government that sells guns to our enemies in the middle east and gives guns to the Mexican drug cartel via Fast and Furious yet wants to disarm her own citizens can NOT be trusted.  A government that rammed tanks into a compound killing women and children in Waco can NOT be viewed as a caring entity.  A government that uses drones in 3rd world countries to aimlessly kill innocent people who have not been given a day in court can NOT be believed to be looking out for our best interests. 

Our founders knew that absolute power corrupts..  They knew that an armed public was the only way to ensure we remain free.

Everything we are being told in this gun debate is simply intended to manipulate us.  To play on our emotions.  To use FEAR to make us believe other people know what's best for us.

We are born free. 

It was our founders belief that we should also die free.

Hindsight (Fade into you)

In hindsight, I feel silly. 

Kind of like the morning after.  Fumbling for my car keys.  Wishing there was a name tag. 

I had a fast car.  And I kept on driving.  Barefoot.  Impulsively written bare naked handwritten note sealed in an envelope on the passenger seat. 

Oblivious to my surroundings.  Red sirens, black night, yellow moon. 

Fade into you.
I think it's strange you never knew.

It was twenty years ago and Darling, that should have been me. 

At some point, I became afraid to answer the phone. 

Kind of like those moments before a natural disaster when the animals panic.  Sensing the unthinkable. 

She made me nervous.  Well, they all did.  They all do.
So much so, I wrote down everything to talk about before I called.

A talking points list so to speak.

I was crazy for her.  Head over heels.
I still am now.  She just has a different name.  A different face. 

I reached my destination.  Tears stained my cheeks.  It was probably a good thing she didn't see me. 

With mere hours to go before she was gone for good, I got the last word in.

Stay.

I imagined her face as she read my letter. A devilish grin with an agreeable nod of her head followed by a cinematic kiss in the rain. 

But I knew better.

A month later, finally settled, she wrote me back.

Fade into you
I think it's strange you never knew.

Twenty years later, I feel silly.

Kind of like the morning after.

Facebook Deletions: I blame Bush

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Death Becums her (Helloooo Kitty)

For the second time in the last year, tragedy has struck my girlfriend.

When the loss of that day hit home, I held her in my arms and told her everything would be okay.  Usually, I try to avoid cliches during moments of great pain.  But as I looked at her and noticed she needed some type of comfort, I just said what came to mind.

It was a difficult week for her.  She refused to work or eat.  She just laid in bed wondering IF or WHEN life would make sense again.
For most of that week, I just laid with her.  I tried to touch her just to let her know I was there for her.  Each time I leaned into her, she would turn her head and stare off into the distance.

She wanted no part of my touch.

About a week later, she finally got out of bed.  She grabbed my hand and said, "let's go."

I knew exactly what she meant.  I didn't need to ask Where.

Closure was around the corner.

So, I grabbed the car keys and drove her to the place where she met him.
Hand in hand, we walked into that place.  It was beaming with life.  Everyone in this place was so friendly.  I felt a little uncomfortable being the only man there; but I was there for her.

We walked around for awhile.  She broke down in tears a few times.  I just stood there with my hand on her shoulder and reminded her that it was time to let go.

And she did.
It didn't take long thereafter for that missing smile to reappear on her face.

Right there in Aisle 8 was what she was looking for....

A NEW VIBRATOR.


We named it Hellooooo Kitty

For one year, Hellooooo Kitty has treated her well.  It has done that one thing that I am unable to do:  Vibrate.

I have tried to make my penis vibrate.  But unfortunately, my penis lacks the athletic prowess.  I have taken tongue lessons; hoping to replicate the motion of Helloooo Kitty but that has failed as well.

We welcomed Hellooooo Kitty into our home with open arms and legs.
For the last year, it has served its purpose well.

Today, Helloooo Kitty has passed away.

It went quietly in its sleep.  My girlfriend grabbed it from its special drawer and it was unresponsive.

She shook it.  She screamed at it.  She yelled with every ounce of strength she could muster, "Fix the damn thing NOW."

I tried mouth to mouth.  I called 9-1-1 but apparently, a dead vibrator is not an emergency.

I prayed.

We called the place where we bought it.  The kind woman who answered the phone, quietly said, "Just let it go.  It is gone."

My girlfriend is fast asleep now.  She has left the funeral arrangements up to me.

RIP Helloooo Kitty.

February 2008-March 2009

Born in Taiwan
He is survived by a grateful woman.

Whatever

If I had one more day…

Twenty years after her death, he still utters those words. 

I remember the day his mom died.  I remember it so well because every day since then, he has been a shell of his former self. I used to be able to make little jokes at his expense.

“You’re such a mama’s boy”.

Now, it just wouldn’t be right to repeat that once often stated sentence.

I haven’t spoken to him in 3 years.  He got married.  He disowned me due to my perceived lack of loyalty in him.

Whatever.  The reasons don’t matter.

We don’t talk.  We may or may not again.

I don’t care. 

Despite all of our misunderstandings, anger… despite whatever…

I learned a lot from this somewhat meek and gentle giant.

For two decades leading up to his marriage, all he wanted was one more day with his mom.   She was diagnosed with cancer on a Wednesday.  She was dead the following Tuesday.

Just like that.  Whatever.

I suppose a long drawn out death may have been worse.  I suppose all of us are in the midst of a long drawn out death.

The man, with the heart of gold and the disposition of a child, changed when she was pronounced dead.  The innocent somewhat naïve man became a hardened cynic.  He leaned toward women, drinking, over eating… it all became his new crutch.  Excess was to be his road to seeing his mother again.

He didn’t have to say it.  We just knew it.

Then he met her.  His soon to be wife.  She was the resurrected version of his mother.  Kind.  Stoic.  Unrelenting love.  Determined. 

She was who he had missed.

I suppose I was wrong to say that your role as a man and future husband is to be a man.  I suppose I was way off base to claim that it was unhealthy of him to latch onto her like a blind kitten to its mother.

I was wrong.  Whatever.

It wasn’t my role to steal that joy he had waited 20 years for.

One of our last conversations before he married, he quietly whispered, “If only my mom was here to see me stand at the altar.”

“She will be”, I said with that kind of confidence that is only spoken when you are trying to comfort that person you care about.

Whatever.  I meant it.

Two days from now, my mom is having a “procedure” done to her frail heart.  They call it a procedure because it makes the invasive opening up of the body cavity sound like no big deal.  Like whatever.

She will survive.  She always does.  But one day, she won’t.

So many thoughts are going through my head. 

I’m thinking of the time I broke a window and my knee had glass in it and all she did was yell about the cost of a new window.  I am remembering the moment she walked into my house with fried chicken; just because.  I am recalling a moment recently when she called me from a bus stop.  She was crying because it was raining out and she missed the bus.

I am thinking about how she gambled her house away; the house I helped pay for.

I am remembering the good, the bad and…

Whatever.

It’s all good.

She’s my mom; the woman who gave me life.

She can’t be replaced.

In my little family, I love you is a foreign language.  Growing up, the dinner table was strictly there for decoration.  The only words spoken by her to me are those you hear in church or during election year:  Will you contribute some money to help?

Then she hands me the collection plate and waits.

Thank you is as foreign as I love you in our little family.

Whatever.

I decided a long time ago to just be thankful she is still around.

One day, she won’t be.

And one day, I won’t be, either.

One day, one of us, no matter how much we prepare ourselves or believe we have said and done everything to prevent any regrets, will be saying, “If only I had one more day…”

That’s how it works in life.

Whatever.