By way of Introduction:

go out and hug a duck today. You see them swimming, qua qua, around in circles, ducking for bugs, bugging for ducks, waiting for the crunch of human feet that means "someone with bread crumbs is coming to feed us! hooray, as we are so sick of bugs! bugs are so mushy!" but you probably have never gone up to one and said, "Oh sweet duckly duckly how I admire your constant swimming and bugging and qua qua qua. I do appreciate you for your charming beak with air holes in it and your slicked feathers which hold no insults nor water; when I watch it bead down your tail feathers and plop back into the pond or the ocean or the lake or the river I feel so glad that your plastic-like webbed feet are still clicking and flopping on the cement and the sand. And when you fly, duckly duckly, I am inspired to close my own little beady eyes and open my own little beak and allow the spirit of duck out of me, into the air, to accompany you on your journey."

Please enjoy and always wonder.

SUVs and You!

Today my hibbyfriend, Aardvark, and I were walking around our thriving metropolis and noticed that despite the well-paved roads and lines painted upon them - indicating, we thought, some sort of "natural urban" order - there were a great number of vehicles that seemed better suited to country or "rural" - for lack of a more neutral term - driving. Yes, the SUV. The Giant, Gas-Guzzling, Snorting Beast that has come to strike fear in the hearts of Hondas everywhere.

Recently in the local rag of a tabloid serving our fair city, a sobbing reader opined, "SUVs are mean!" This is somewhat true. It is not, however, the vehicles themselves who are mean, but their captains; egomaniacal, tanned, buff and hell-bent to get there first, both figuratively and literally. (Wherever "there" is. After all, there are only so many places to go before it's all circles.) And once they do get there, since the parking spots have not yet been revolutionized to accomodate these Giant Gas-Guzzling Snorting Beasts, they must huff around the parking lots at break-neck speed, cornering like Titanic and demolishing strollers and shopping carts alike.

Aardvark and I decided that not only are SUVs ugly, unneccessary - outside of the Arctic tundra or a TV commercial - and offensive on many levels, but their drivers need to be taught a rather severe lesson. It could be one lesson for all of them, OR, we as citizens could be imbued with the power to show them that we hate everything their yuppie scum kind stands for, one at a time. Ahem.

Buses. It's the only solution. City buses must be given charging rights. In the challenge of SUV vs Motorcyle, SUV wins. Ditto SUV vs Compact Car, SUV vs Razor Scooter (though that might not be *as* bad..) and, obviously, SUV vs Pedestrian Crossing On The Green Light/Walking Signal And Therefore With The Right of Way. But SUV vs City Bus...well, that would be a real fight, wouldn't it? City Bus is the *original* Giant Gas-Guzzling Snorting (and Wheezing) Beast. Certainly City Bus is showing a great deal of restraint now that its territory has been invaded by the SUV. Surely, City Bus would embrace with all 18 gritty, huge wheels the permission to take a headlong run into the side of an SUV one time. Just one time. Only if SUV got in its way. Mmmm. Feels good, doesn't it, City Bus?

Win-win. Less SUVs - and their drivers. (Darwin, everyone, Darwin. If we think we can outrun a City Bus, we are a little big for our boots, aren't we?) More public transit which is *happy* to carry us because we have shown it the respect it deserves. Less severed toes at intersections. More parking at Wal-Mart. Relaxed Hondas.

Contact your city council dude today. Aardvark and I will happily accept beer in lieu of payment for this sheerly ingenious idea.


Where is the school of thought which offers the degree in "My Ass Deserves to be Wiped By You" (just You and nobody Else but You...)? Is it a full 4 year degree, a certificate, a diploma perhaps? I wonder. Perhaps I am becoming more aware of the general refusal of folks to suck it up and get on with themselves, or perhaps the ratio of rational to rabid is rapidly becoming skewed.

(I realize that I type this with complaining fingers. That is my official disclaimer and acknowledgement of my own hypocracy.)

Sometimes I don't want to live my life. I talk myself out of drastic measures like suicide, murder, speaking my piece and kicking people in the teeth. And then I walk away from the impetus (impeti?), blowing sunshine out my ass- and believe me, it hurts, do you have tailfeathers? - and I walk smack-dab into the Nay-Sayers. They lurk as shadows, with LotR hoods over their heads and eyes that glow like warm coals. They shrink by me and scowl. They eat nothing that makes them happy; they work too hard and take everything too seriously; they're scared of sex, smells, different languages, drugs, rock n roll and coffee shops they haven't been to before. They expect everything and receive nothing good enough. They give enough to make themselves feel better and not enough to make a difference: and even though every little bit helps, when you're giving for the wrong reasons why not just keep it to yourself.

Why do people refuse - not just prefer not - to be self-sufficient? Why do they not want to take responsibility for themselves? Why do they live their lives as if someone else will always be behind them holding a broom and dustpan, waiting for their every dropping? Why do they always hook up with and into people who are fiercely independent and freakishly solitary, pragmatic, pessimistic and idealistic at once - and why do these people feel obliged to help them? Why is this world so full of pussies who can't gear up and drive away, take a chance and get hurt, take a chance and find joy? I'm not saying shirk all responsibility. I'm saying Take Responsibility for yourself and then you'll be able to function as an equal to the people around you. Hear what they have to say. I didn't get to be a celebrity duck by waiting for someone to tell me what to do. I went out there and I did it.

Back to keepin' it hibby

Back to da front page, eh?

Somewhere else entirely