Independence Day: a Shitty Day for Animals

I was planning to title this post "Fireworks Should Be Seen: Not Heard," but I changed my mind.  Not being a child, or immature, I don't like fireworks.  I don't like the noise they make.  I heard a lot of loud noise from fireworks yesterday.  There, obviously, will be more tonight, and, in my experience, in the days, weeks, or months to come. 
But, for me, it's just an annoyance.  The sound of fireworks terrifies animals.  There is no doubt that fireworks have been used to injure, torture, and kill animals. 
Then there's the issue of barbeques.  Meat eaters are cavemen and cavewomen anyway, but the summer months are when they show who they really are.  They roast the flesh of murdered animals over an open flame: just like their Neanderthal ancestors probably did.  
Also, this is the day that they hold the famous hot-dog-eating contest on Coney Island, NY.  I heard about it on the radio today as I was driving around after buying vegan food.  It's considered to be so funny.  Those who think it's funny obviously don't give any thought to the animals who suffered before and during their murders to provide that meat.  The winner, if memory serves, ate 70 hot dogs.  I wonder if he (or she) intentionally vomited all that tortured animal flesh after the contest was over.  It seems quite possible.
Today, as I went for a walk, I walked through a park.  A woman was allowing a little girl to constantly chase ducks.  As I walked by, I said, to the woman, "They're not toys for her to play with, you know."  She looked at me.  I kept walking.  I looked back.  It seemed as though she wasn't chasing them anymore. 
Days ago, I saw a woman leave her dog in a (probably) hot car with the windows rolled all the way up.  I had just shopped after a full day of work, so I didn't' want to deal with this stupid bitch, but I did anyway  I followed her into the store.  I was thinking that I needed to keep track of the time the dog was in that car.  She came out again shortly after.  To my amazement, she left the dog in there again with the windows all the way up before heading back toward the store.
"Don't you think you should leave the windows open?" I asked her.
"I'm only going to be a few minutes," she replied.
"But it's hot," I said.  It's true.  It wasn't crazy hot out, but it was in my car.
"I would if I was going to be longer, and the windows are tinted," she replied.
The conversation wasn't going anywhere, so I gave up.  The more I argued with her, the more time that dog would have to spend in the car.  WHY WOUDLN'T YOU OPEN THE WINDOWS ON A HOT DAY FOR YOUR DOG, YOU STUPID BITCH?!
I think I'll be more aggressive in the future.  The thought of an animal dying, while trapped in a hot car, is horrible.  "Open your windows, or I'll smash them!" comes to mind.
  

Taking Shit

Life is all about taking shit.  Now that I'm employed again, this is clearer than ever.  I've had to take shit from coworkers: but mostly from customers.  My coworkers have also had to take massive amounts of shit from customers.  Perhaps society is breaking down.  Some think that America is headed for a major fall.  Perhaps this is part of it.
I'll give you an example.  I was working, as a cashier, in the outside lawn and garden area of the store where I work.  A man was there with his woman.  I rang up the purchases, and he paid for them with his credit card.  When one uses a credit or debit card to pay, one approves the purchase amount first, so that's what he did.  After he did that and paid for the merchandise, he had a problem with the price of one of the items.  According to him, it had been put in the wrong place or the price was wrong.  According to him, it should have cost a lot less than it did.  But here's the problem; he approved the total purchase amount!  And now that it's gone through, there's nothing I can do to right this supposed wrong for him.  Returns must be done at customer service.  I told him that, and it made him very angry.
"You mean I have to go all the way over there?" he asked.  He said it like it was a mile or so away.  It wasn't.  It was much less than that: just a little bit of a stroll, which, considering his fat-ass physique, he wasn't very used to navigating.  Then he said, "Fuck it.  I'm not going there.  I'll hold up the line too.  I don't care."
I knew what to say to that, but I didn't say it, because it could have gotten me fired.  I would have said, 'Why did you approve the purchase amount if you had a problem with it?"
Here's another example.  A woman, with an English accent, approached me while I was manning a cash register.  She was a little bitchy, which turned out to be foreshadowing.  The store I work at has it's own credit cards.  We allow our customers to use them even if they failed to bring them to the store for their purchases.  We can look them up on the computerized registers.  That's what the bitch wanted to do; she wanted to use the credit card she failed to bring to the store.  So I looked it up, and the computer said, "no account found."  I told her that, and she got very bitchy
"I have an account here!" she yelled.  I double-checked all the info she had given me: no dice.  My memory is a little fuzzy, cause I've been drinking, but I think she requested the assistance of a manager.  She arrived and assisted. 
The manager, Trixie, asked "Could it be under your husband's name (which I had asked)?"
"No!" was the response,  "It's under both our names.  I think he (me) typed it in wrong."
It turned out that it was under her husband's name.  She had been a bitch for no good reason and fucked with two people who couldn't retaliate unless they were OK with losing their jobs.