I'm a Mess

It's true.  I'm a mess.  I don't fit into this world.  I'm not the normal person, and I don't want to be.  The normal person gets married, brings children into this wicked world, and aspires to have the best landscaping on their block.  And, of course, they want to have more money than anyone they know.  I must be crazy, I think the life of one mouse is worth more than all the money in the world, and I stand by that sentiment.
By the way, I was sure about it, and now I'm super-sure about it.  It is cruel for people to bring people and animals into this world.  This is why.  Animals bring other animals into the world, and that's fine.  They are just following natural instincts and urges.  It's completely possible that no animal has ever made the connection between sex and procreation.  They have sex because they are driven to do so.  But humans know what life has to offer on this planet: pain, depression, suicide, bullying, sickness, disease, suffering, paralysis, loss of limbs, rape, pedophilia, war, murder, violence, incest, torture, terrorism, loss of loved ones, deterioration of mind and body due to aging, and death.  But even though we're aware of all this misery, most of us choose to bring people into the world.  I've never brought anyone into the world, and I'll never want to.  Just because it's been done to me, that doesn't make it okay for me to do it to someone else.  I suppose that's what a lot of biological parents are thinking.  "It's good enough for me, so it's good enough for you."     
I can't believe I forgot to post last week.  It was shocking for me to realize that.  I blame being a mess and drinking on that.
I survive mostly for the sake of others.  I am ready to die.  I think life sucks; it's a lot more unhappiness than happiness.  But I try to survive, because I want to help animals, many of whom are living in a hell that's much worse than mine.  I also want to convince people to not bring other people and animals into this world of pain, misery, and violence.  So I have a reason to live, but how much pain can I endure?    

Violent Youth

Two are better than one.

My junior high school experience was dominated by sex and violence.  Since the response to my asking someone out for the first time was “no way,” it was hard to imagine a girl going out with the likes of me.  I settled for the next best thing: feeling up pretty girls in the school’s corridors.  I only struck when I thought the hallway was crowded enough.  When it was, I started looking for pretty girls.  Then I'd get behind one and feel the curvature of her ass with my hand.  One of them jumped so high that she landed on the floor.  She was smiling afterward, though.

When her friend helped her up, she asked, "Who did that: Mike?"

She was referring to a Neanderthal football player who made my life a living hell: more on him later.  That's what I was counting on.  The girls wouldn't suspect me because I was such a nonentity.  They would think that I was incapable of such a ballsy endeavor, even though I was right behind them whenever it happened; I never ran away.  I also had my favorites that I felt up more than once.  Later on, in high school, I realized that I hadn't gotten away with it entirely.  The first day in science class, in front of everyone, this girl announced that I have touched the ass of her friend Gail, and the contact had not been sanctioned by her.  I denied it, but I was guilty.  She was one of my favorites, wearing tight Jordache or Sergio Valente jeans that drove me crazy.          

There was one girl in junior high that titillated my young loins the most.  She had a beautiful face and body, but her most remarkable features were her fully developed and perfect breasts.  They were the biggest and the best in the school.  The opportunity that I had been praying for presented itself when I saw her at the outer edge of a crowd in the hallway.  I was so excited, that I literally ran over to her and pressed my whole body against the back of hers.

She just looked back at me as if to say, 'What the f do you think you're doing?' Consequently, I peeled myself off of her.  Regardless, it was a real thrill to have my penis against her sublime ass, even though it was only there for a moment or two.

It has been said that karma is a bitch.  Perhaps karma sent bullies to punish me for sexually assaulting turn-of-the-puberty girls.  Maybe that’s why I was bullied frequently in junior high school.  Three friends, at least two of them were football players, bullied me the worst.  Mike was stocky and ugly.  Clay was taller and uglier.  Jeff was tall, and he had curly blonde hair.  They sat behind me in more than one of my classes.  They smacked me really hard on the back of the head whenever the mood struck them (and the teacher wasn't looking).  They thought that this was funny and so did my classmates.  I was so pathetic, that I even laughed along with them sometimes.  Sometimes they smacked my head repeatedly with a burst of quick, hard ones.  I never fought back.  I was a coward.  Considering what I know about the human brain now, it's clear that I shouldn't have let them batter mine around the inside of my skull as many times as they did.  The teachers somehow never noticed this bullying, or they just ignored it.  All of my classmates knew about it.  Those smacks were loud.

School shootings suck, but at least they have brought attention to the subject of bullying.  Perhaps kids aren’t as likely to get away with physically assaulting other kids as much as they used to.  Such beatings were just considered to be part of growing up.  Hopefully, that has changed some, and kids have the right to not be abused by their peers.  If there was a gun in my house, who knows?  I might have used it against my tormentors.

I was riding my bike near my house one day, and a bunch of kids starting throwing acorns at me.  Apparently, I had reached my bullying limit just prior to this incident, because I snapped.  I went home, grabbed a baseball bat, and rode back over to those kids.  I threatened to hit anyone who threw anything at me.  I clearly meant it, so I saw fear in some of their eyes.  Satisfied, I remounted my bike and pedaled homeward.  Of course, at least one kid hurled an acorn at me as I departed, spoiling my victorious freak-out.

That wasn't the only time this cowardly junior high school student fought back.  This kid in my music class, Freddie, didn't like me.  Join the club.  Well, I didn't like him either then.  We insulted each other regularly.  We eventually decided that we would fight it out.  We planned to get to the classroom early on fight day so we could do it before the teacher arrived.  That fateful day came, and we stood in front of each other and started talking trash.  The fistfight began when I shoved him.  Some girl told me to leave Freddie alone because he was shorter than me.  The rest of the kids wanted blood, and they got it.  Freddie bloodied my lip, but I didn't even feel it.  I got him in a headlock: bad news for Freddie.  However, as an acquaintance of mine who witnessed the bout noted, I was only giving him noogies on the top of his head, when I should have been beating his face in.  Finally, a teacher heard the ruckus and broke it up.  Freddie pointed at my bloody lip and laughed, which was when I became aware of it.

Then he declared, “This is not over,” which was an obvious threat.

Since Freddie was shorter than me, and he gave me a bloody lip, the consensus among the kids was that I was the clear loser of the fight.  Now I was the loser who started a fight with a smaller kid and got my ass kicked.  I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't.  We both received detention, where Neanderthal football player Mike was already serving time (shocker!).  Not surprisingly, he berated me for losing to a smaller opponent.  I can still recall the look of disgust on his face.  Freddie never did finish the job; in fact we became friends after that. 

Violence was all around me in junior high, though.  I'll probably never forget an incident that involved my locker partner, Ryan.  Ryan was a tall and moody sort.  He and I had been randomly assigned to share a locker with each other.  A girl, who took art class with Ryan and I, seemed to have a crush on him.  She was big boned, but pretty.  She decided to tease him by hiding his pencil: bad idea.  Ryan kept asking her where it was while she giggled like, well, a schoolgirl.  He was standing over her and becoming increasingly frustrated while she continued to giggle in her seat.  Then it happened really fast.  His arm was a flash as he hit her nose hard with the palm of his open hand.  Large drops of blood fell from her nose and formed red circles on the table as she started to cry.  Ryan was sent to the principal's office.  Her nose bled quite a bit.  I don't remember, but he might have broken it.  It was a sudden, reprehensible act of violence.

Scotty and I were best friends, but he was very competitive.  When we played sports on the same team, everything was fine.  It wasn't always fun to be on the team that opposed his, though.  For Scotty, the ends justified the means, which is why he lied and cheated.  I heard that he's a lawyer now: that figures.  An example of his Machiavellian tactics occurred when we were playing football.  My team kicked off to his, and the ball hit his hand, then the ground.  That meant that possession of the ball was up for grabs.  Someone from our team seized it, and we celebrated.  Scotty claimed that he didn't touch the ball.  We all saw him do it, so we argued.  Scotty stubbornly continued to deny it though, and he eventually got his way.

He was also very physical.  We very rarely played tackle football on a field; it was mostly touch football in the street.  That didn't stop Scotty from getting rough.  On a day when he and I were playing for opposing teams, he kept running into me hard and illegally interfering with me before I could attempt to catch the ball.  I called pass interference on him every time he did it.  The more I did it, the harder he glared at me.  I had seen him intimidate several kids this way.  Regardless, I continued fearlessly because I thought that our friendship would allow me to challenge him with impunity.  I was wrong.  He treated me especially roughly on a particular play, then he looked at me fiercely, as though he was going to hit me.  He saw the fear in my eyes, and it made him smile with delight.  I don't think I called any more penalties on him that day.

This time, we were playing street hockey, and Scotty and Rob were involved in an intense physical battle for the puck.  Rob was a skinny kid that we played sports with whenever we could drag him out of his house.  Scotty decided that the game was turning from hockey to boxing.  He had lost his patience and was preparing to hit Rob.  I was mesmerized by this turn of events.  Is Scotty going to beat the crap out of him?  Then Rob looked at me with wide-open eyes that made his fear clear.  His very effective nonverbal communication snapped me out of my reverie, and I got between them before Scotty could demolish him.  Too bad Rob wasn't around to return the favor when I needed it. 

Completely fixated on Star Wars, I wrapped black tape around one end of a neon-green broomstick to create my very own lightsaber.  As I played with it, I imagined that I was Luke Skywalker.  Scotty dropped by.  I showed him my new lightsaber.  I went a little too far and ended up behind him, holding my lightsaber tightly against the front of his body.  I don't remember if he warned me to stop or not, but he managed to turn around and punch me in the eye.  I immediately released him, and after a moment of shock, I lay down on the ground.  It wasn't a knockdown.  I hoped that lying on the ground would prevent him from hitting me again; he didn't.  He apologized, but I wasn't impressed.  I told him to leave.  I didn't want to be his friend anymore.  I was sick and tired of having a best friend that was bigger than me.  I'd rather have a friend who had an ass I could kick, if it came to that.  Scotty kept trying to apologize to me, but I wouldn't take his calls.  He was very persistent, though, so I finally agreed to go to his house.  The bastard gave me a get-well card.  He wasn't sincere about it at all.  He was smiling when he gave it to me; he clearly thought it was funny.  Despite his lack of respect for the major tragedy which had befallen me, I accepted him as my friend again.

Scotty and I visited our friend Carmine.  Carmine and I began to wrestle: just for fun.  Nobody told his dog that, though.  Without even barking a warning, Carmine's dog stood up on his hind legs and slashed me with a paw.  That was it.  One swipe and he was done.  He never made a sound.  I stopped wrestling with Carmine.  I pulled up my shirt and saw a red line that was about four inches long; that’s where one of his claws had broken the skin.  I had that scar for several years.  I had no choice but to admire the dog's action.  That was the coolest, most badass thing I've ever seen a dog do.

            While I was enrolled in high school, something happened to me that left a dark cloud over my head for years.  The homely girl on the block, Rachelle, managed to get herself an ugly, tough-looking boyfriend.  I don't remember his name, so I'll call him Thug; it suits him.  He and I initially got along well together.  He was on our block to see Rachelle, saw me shooting hoops by myself, and asked me if I wanted to play a game with him.  We played one-on-one, and I won.  I've played several sports, but I was probably better at basketball than any other sport I attempted.  Even when there was no one to play with, I could always improve my abilities by practicing.  It was the perfect sport for a loner like me.

            Another time, I was playing basketball with my best friend on the block, Todd.  Thug, Rachelle, and her little brother, Dean, walked over to where we were.  Thug played ball with us for a while.  Then he and Rachelle went back to her house.  Dean started asking me all these loaded questions about Thug.

            He asked me, "Do you think that you could beat Thug in a fight?"  He also asked, "Are you scared of Thug?"

            I was somewhat diplomatic when responding to these questions, but I didn't want to seem like a pussy either.  I didn't realize, at the time, that I was being set up by this instigator.  He went back to his house.  When he returned, he was accompanied by an angry-looking Thug.  I can still picture the dramatic sight of him getting closer and closer.

            "Watch out for this guy," Todd warned me.  

            Thug walked right up to me and started interrogating me about the things that Dean told him I had said.  I suppose that Dean made it seem like I had voluntarily said all these things about Thug when he spoke to him about me: leaving out his involvement.  I tried to explain the situation to him, but Thug was having none of it.  Like a dog, he could sense my fear.  As I kept trying to avoid conflict, he became more aggressive.  He pushed me.  I couldn't believe this was happening!  I hadn’t said or done anything to deserve this.  Then he punched me hard in the mouth.  That was extremely startling, and it threw me into a panic.  I tried to get away from him and go to my house, but he was in the way.  I went left, and he blocked me.  I went right, and he blocked me again.  This is where my football experience came in handy.  I faked left and went right.  I got by him and ran to my house; he chased me.  When I reached the front door, he gave up the chase and left our yard.  I was too scared to venture out and get my basketball, so I asked Todd to throw it to me while I was standing in the doorway.  He did, but he was clearly disappointed by my cowardice.  As Thug walked by my house, on his way back to Rachelle's, he predictably called me, among other things, a pussy.

            I went inside and looked at myself in the mirror.  My upper lip was swollen and bloody.  He had broken the skin just above the lip and left a deep, ugly cut.  I have the scar to this day: a scar of shame.  There was a knock at the door.  I approached it with caution and saw that it was Dean.  I opened the door, and Dean apologized for what he had done.  I accepted his apology and tried to act as though getting punched in the mouth and completely humiliating myself didn't really bother me.  However, because of that incident, I have very strong feelings about people who initiate fights between others and then watch them from the sidelines.  Even if a woman incited a fistfight (for no good reason) between her husband and me, I would seriously consider slapping her once I was done with her better half.  This event crushed me, and I was ashamed of myself for several years afterward as a result.             

            However, when my friend Scotty called me the next day and asked me to play street hockey near his house, I accepted the invitation.  Now, I don't believe in God, but something strange happened.  When I arrived at the location of the hockey game, the face of the opposing team's goalie caught my eye.  It was Thug!  I was very surprised to see him there, because I had only seen him a few times before that day, and only on my block.  It seemed possible that some mysterious force was giving me another chance to hit him back.  I didn't, though.  At least I didn't turn around and run like hell.  I couldn't hear what he was saying, but it sure seemed like he was telling his friends the story of how I got cut and the aftermath.  I suppose that one of his friends questioned the veracity of the tale.  He asked me if I had fought Thug.  I meekly confirmed it without going into detail.  We played our hockey game.  I scored a goal against Thug; that was all the vengeance I could muster.  I hope that scumbag is rotting in a prison somewhere.

Eat Organic Spinach

Mama Veronica with 4 of her 5 babies.

I have had problems with depression and OCD.  For anyone who has problems with issues like depression, I highly recommend eating fresh organic spinach everyday.  Eat plenty of it.  It is very healthy for body and mind.  I've been feeling so good since I started eating it every day.  I must admit that I want to help animals most of all.  But if I can help people, especially those who are dealing with depression, I will.  Suicide is so ugly.  There's so much of it going on every day in the world.  The only people I'm fine with committing suicide are terrorists (hopefully not in a suicide bombing) and other violent criminals who have no chance of reform.  I know it seems crazy that spinach can help so much with one's mood, but it's true.  I'm not lying here.  To be honest, I drink, so there's that too.  I'm not recommending that people drink, I'm just providing all the information I can.  I recommend you don't drink.  I feel best when I wake up after not drinking the night before.  Unfortunately, I currently associate drinking with writing.  It seems like, when I drink, I have more stamina to sit at the computer and write.  So it's a psychological thing.
Enough of that, back to the groundhog news.  My choice for mother of the year so far is Veronica.  She is the best groundhog mother I've ever seen.  I've seen a groundhog mother attack one of her babies: not Veronica.  She is a great mother.  I saw a baby come right up to her and start pawing her face.  She just moved her face out of the way.
At least one of the 5 growing groundhog babies is feisty.  One kept bugging one of her sisters.  She sneaked up behind her and bit at her tail.  I hope it was playing and not bullying.  The one who was getting her tail bit turned around and yelped.  Then the aggressor ran back to hide behind a bush.  Then she ran to the next bush.  Then she ran back to the first bush.  What a feisty groundhog baby!  In my experience, the only time when they're playful is when they're young.  Once they're adults, they seem to be only interested in eating grass and weeds, running from danger, or chasing away animals (including groundhogs) they don't want around.     

Groundhog Chronicles

A young groundhog

I've seen some strange stuff in the groundhog world lately.  Unfortunately, the mother groundhog chased one of her kids around.  It might be real aggressive behavior, but I've seen the same thing, a generation ago, when Sheila attacked Sloopy.  Then I saw a bird perched on a groundhog's back for possibly close to a minute.  I can't stand mean birds stalking groundhogs.  Birds love to attack cute little groundhogs, and they're too loud, they need to get their act together.  I have, in the past, assumed the birds were just bullying the groundhogs.  But it seems possible that the birds are eating bugs/parasites off of the groundhogs.
Another strange thing I saw was the mother doing a little maintenance on the family hole in the ground.  I saw her digging dirt out of the hole.  She also seemed to go under the bush where I hid all the rocks and glass, so people wouldn't throw them at groundhogs, and she dragged most of it out to put around the hole/home.  I think she's trying to protect their home, but she doesn't realize she's setting up bullies with things to throw at her and her kids.  It's a shame.  It's a shame she's setting them up, but more so for those who would take the bait.
Attacked by humans twice, that I know of, the groundhogs continue to flourish.  After all, they have my protection.  I'd gladly lay my life down for any one of the 6 groundhogs living around here.  They are great. I saw a couple of youngsters wrestling the other day.  They are so cute.  I watched them carefully.  I didn't want to see one dominating the other for sure.  What I was glad to see if that both of the groundhog wrestlers went on to their backs, the submission position, which, to me, meant that one wasn't dominating the other.  Maybe they love each other and are playing for fun.   They are so freakin' cute.  They get scared of lots of things.  Lots of noises and such, it sends them running to a bush near the building to hide.  I fully love all the groundhogs in the world.  I challenege you to treat animals as well as you can.  They live under our thumb, and we don't treat them well.  Things need to change.  Become vegetarian, it's easy, or vegan.

Let's Fight Bullying

I won't let them bully you Lucinda.

I did it again.  Yesterday, I looked out the window and saw Sloopy eating grass.  I also couldn't help noticing that there were many birds all around her.  I don't know exactly what kind of birds they are.  I've previously referred to them as black birds, but I doubt that's really accurate.  They're not black; they're multicolored, but mostly brown.  It's easier to list what they're not.  They're not crows, ravens, robins, sparrows, cardinals, doves, hawks, falcons, or eagles.  They are aggressive.  They attack each other.  One had something in her beak, and was trying to enjoy it, but the other brown birds kept chasing her wherever she went.
Anyway, because these brown birds were surrounding sweet Sloopy, I decided to watch for a little while.  It didn't take long for one of them to approach Sloppy from behind.  I didn't like the looks of it.  Sure enough, the bird started by pecking her tail.  I was ready to go, but I held off a bit.  I wasn't sure if Sloopy could feel her tail being pecked.  Soon after, the bird pecked her in the butt.  That's it!  "Leave her alone!" I yelled out the open window  Sloopy ran for cover and several birds flew away.  I regret that when I do this, I frighten the groundhogs I'm trying to protect, but at least it puts a temporary end to the bullying.  Until I come up with a better idea, it will have to do.
I was bullied when I was a kid.  It was so bad, that I may never forget it.  I don't remember anyone stepping in to help me.  I would have appreciated it.  This is a violent and cruel world; it always has been.  I encourage you to try to end bullying when you see it.  You'll feel better if you do.  Years ago, I was in Central Park, and I saw some kids throwing rocks at some ducks in a pond.  I wanted to tell them to stop doing it, but I was afraid.  I was thinking that one or more parents of these kids might become irate if I tried to tell their kid what to do.  I regret being a coward in that situation.  There would have been nothing wrong with me telling those kids to stop throwing rocks at the ducks.  They had no business doing that.  The ducks didn't deserve to be attacked like that.  Sometimes, there really is a right and a wrong in a given situation.  The kids were in the wrong, and they needed someone to tell them that.  I was in the wrong for not doing anything about it.  I hate fear.  I'm always trying to overcome it.  "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself."  FDR said that, and it's one of the quotes that I agree with the most.
I'm not suggesting becoming a vigilante, like Batman, to fight bullying.  I'm just suggesting that we speak up and stand up for what is right and against what is wrong.  Calmly and politely asking someone to stop bullying an animal or another person would probably get the best result.  Even if it doesn't end the bullying, at least you took a stand and tried to stop something that shouldn't be happening.  At least it probably gave the bully some food for thought.  He or she will probably realize to some degree that he or she can't necessarily bully with impunity.   Of course, if a situation is out of control, and a person or an animal is being beaten mercilessly, and verbal attempts to stop the abuse haven't worked, then the abuser might need to hear a warning.  And if he or she doesn't heed that warning, then it might be time to take action to protect a person or an animal who needs it.  I'd rather be the person that took action than the guy who watched a man stab a woman to death.    

Lucinda

Lucinda as a baby.  What a furball!

I love Lucinda.  She is a beautiful groundhog.  As I mentioned before, she's put on a lot of weight.  But she was even chubby as a baby.  She gets around via the cutest waddle I've ever seen.  She, perhaps due to her heavyweight status, also seems to be the most fearless groundhog I've ever seen.  One of my (human) neighbors left his building while she was grazing just outside of it.  Usually, a groundhog in this situation will run for his or her life: not Lucinda.  She stood her ground while keeping an eye on the human.  Once he walked away, she went back to stuffing her face with grass and weeds.   One day I was walking to my car.  I noticed that Lucinda was standing right next to the sidewalk.  I couldn't believe how close she let me get to her before she started to waddle away.
I put my plan into action.  I saw a bird pecking a groundhog, so I shouted "Leave her alone!" to the bullying bird.  As a result, all the birds in the immediate area took wing, and the groundhog ran for the cover of a nearby bush.  She came out again shortly afterward to graze again.  The birds also returned.  She was pecked by a bird again.  It made me so angry.  "Leave her alone, you goddamn bird!" is what I yelled that time.  Once again, the groundhog ran away.  The plan basically worked.  Both times, it put an end (temporarily) to the bullying.  I suppose I'll do it again if I witness any more of it.  Bullying, whether it's human against human, human against animal, or animal against animal, should be stopped.  By the way, I wouldn't interfere with the natural order of things.  I understand there are predators and prey and they are all a part of the food chain.  I think it's clear that some animals were meant to survive off the flesh of other animals.  The birds don't eat groundhogs, that's a ridiculous thought, they really are pretty much just bullying them.  Not if I see it though.
Birds are crazy though.  I heard a sound, so I went over to whence it came from: a window.  I realized that a sparrow was pecking on the window screen while another one looked on: craziness.  When I walked right up to the window, they both took off.  She made a hole in the screen.  I sure hope no money gets taken out of my security deposit for that.  What the hell was she doing?  Did she want to move into my apartment?  Put a tent on this freaking circus. 

Bumpkin's Vengeance

It's not a very good idea to bully Bumpkin or her family.

It finally happened.  Bumpkin found out about birds bullying her mother and sisters.  Let's just say it's gotten a lot quieter around here.  The chirping had been out of control.  The birds seemed to be in charge, and they never let any of us forget it.  They chirped all the time: and loudly.
Bumpkin climbed out of the family hole with revenge on her mind.  The birds, like me, have trouble telling the 3 groundhog sisters apart.  Well, 2 of them anyway.  Lucinda continues to pack on the poundage, which distinguishes her from her sisters.  Anyway, it seems like Bumpkin strategically chose when she was going to emerge from her home.  There were many birds in the apartment complex at the time.  She purposefully crawled to an area that contained many black birds, which are the sort that have bullied groundhogs around here.  Sparrows, doves, and robins seem to mind their own business, but those black birds have pecked groundhogs too nastily and too often.  Bumpkin picked a spot and began to munch on weeds and grass.  It didn't take too long for one of those angry black birds to peck her in the butt.  It took even less time for Bumpkin to turn around and decapitate the bird with one casual swipe of a paw.  Then the fireballs took over.  I had seen her hurl fireballs from her paws before, but never so many and never so quickly.  She stood up on her hindquarters and shot fireballs out of both paws like Clint Eastwood used to do with bullets in spaghetti westerns.  Those fireballs came fast and furious.  One black bird exploded into flames.  Another black bird was hit.  After a while, I lost count.  I'm pretty sure she toasted at least 30 of them.  It was chaos.  She hit them on the ground and in the air.  They tried to fly away, and she picked them off one by one.  I hated seeing those birds attack groundhogs, but I didn't enjoy seeing them trying to fly away while engulfed in flames.  What's even scarier is that I didn't see her miss even once.  I think she's been practicing.
Charred black bird bodies were still smoldering when Bumpkin returned to her first victim: the one she beheaded.  She dragged the unfortunate bird to the sidewalk.  I had a feeling I knew what was coming next.  Sure enough, next to her name, she wrote "Sloopy" "Lucinda" and "Mommy" on the sidewalk in bird blood.  As far as who shouldn't be messed with around here, she left no doubt.  How far will she go though?  Sometimes the maintenance workers cut the grass and use weed whackers.  When they do those things, they scare groundhogs away.  A maintenance worker armed with a weed whacker is no match for Bumpkin.  I don't care if they hire Chuck Norris to whack the weeds here.  Chuck Norris is tough; I wouldn't want to fight him.  But what can he do about multiple fireballs coming at him with great speed?

Bullying

Sheila attacking one of her babies.

Cute little animals have been bullied around here, and I don't like it.  Sheila has attacked her own groundhog children at least twice.  She made one of them cry.  I love Sheila; I can't help it.  She's my first groundhog love.  I loved her before I realized she was living in a hole right next to the building I live in.  After it was confirmed that we were neighbors, I loved her even more.  Then she brought her three babies into my life.  I tell myself there's a reason why she's attacked her own young.  She's just trying to toughen them up.  One of them scampered up to her mommy to say "hi," and this led directly to one of the attacks.  Maybe Sheila's trying to teach them that you have to have your guard up when you're out of the family hole; it's a tough world out there.
The birds are the worst.  One day I saw two baby groundhogs near each other; they were both eating grass.  A black bird pecked one of them in the butt.  The poor baby groundhog stopped eating grass abruptly.  She looked surprised.  It seemed like she was too scared to turn around to see what had happened.  Then she went back to eating grass.  That bird did the same thing to the other baby groundhog, who reacted the exact same way her sister did.  I was angry at this bird, but I also thought it was a little funny.  I don't think it's funny at all anymore.  Another day, I watched a bird peck one of the sisters repeatedly.  The poor thing didn't fight back at all.  It's frustrating, because the groundhogs are definitely bigger than these birds, so they shouldn't be taking any crap from them.  I hate seeing groundhogs being bullied.  What was this bird's problem?  Why was she attacking her instead of foraging for food?  Why is there so much aggression in this world?  Even the toughest of the groundhogs around here, Sheila, has been bullied by birds.  I've seen birds pecking groundhogs plenty of times now, but I've never seen one fight back against the feathered fiends.
I've decided to take matters into my own hands.  If I see birds bullying groundhogs, I will yell "Fight back!" out the window.  I'm not expecting them to fight back against the birds when I do that, but it will probably scare the groundhog, which would cause her to run for cover, which would, temporarily at least, put an end to the bullying.
What's really disturbing is the patches of fur that are missing from one of the sisters.  I can only conclude that she has been bitten where the fur is missing.  And I can't help suspecting that Sheila is responsible.
I think the heat is a factor.  The first time I saw baby groundhogs being bullied was on a very hot day.  In addition to that craziness, I saw a rabbit threaten a couple of squirrels.  One of the squirrels got into a standoff with the rabbit; she laid her tail on her back completely, which is something I'd never seen before.
Speaking of rabbits, it's strange that groundhogs, even babies, seem to not be afraid of them.  I've seen groundhogs intimidate rabbits at least twice.  The rabbits are larger than the birds who bully them.  I suppose it's true what they say; size isn't everything.  

Be Different; Don't Have Kids

Young Groundhog in Love

I mean don't bring them into this world.  People who adopt, whether humans or animals, and are exemplary adoptive parents, are heroes because they give a home to someone who needs one.  People who adopt human children, as far as I'm concerned, "clean up someone else's mess," which means they pick up the ball after a biological parent has dropped it (so to speak).  I have very strong feelings about biological parenthood.  I have never impregnated a woman, and therefore never brought someone into this wicked world, and I am very proud of that.
Why do so many people bring other people into this world?  This planet has been plagued with brutality and misery from the beginning.  The strong and vicious have been preying on the weak and timid from the get-go.  What must we deal with in our lifetimes?  Pain, bullying, intimidation, ridicule, humiliation, insults, job loss, threat of violence, threat of horrible fates like becoming paralyzed, sickness, disease, injury, deterioration of mind and body as a result of old age, death of friends and loved ones, and, ultimately, one's own death.
Uh-uh.  Not good enough for my kids: my kids that don't exist.  I refuse to bring my kids into this world.  So many things could happen to them.  As children, they could be abducted, raped, tortured, and murdered.  It has happened to many children.  Why would I bring them into a world where this horrible scenario is a distinct possibility?
Because I'm not selfish enough to do so.  I suspected that the reason why many people become biological parents is because they are selfish.  Perhaps they are unhappy, and they feel a cute little baby will cheer them up or give them a reason to live.  Then there's the reason that, unsolicited, was presented to me at my workplace.  A coworker asked me if I had kids, and I said no.  Then she asked me if I wanted to have kids, and I said no.  Then she asked me, "Don't you want to have someone to take care of you when you get older?"
There it was: selfishness on display.  According to my coworker, I should have kids for my sake, not theirs.  They should have to suffer in this hateful world until it's time for them to take care of me.  I disagree with such a notion.  That's why it's obvious to me that I care more about my (nonexistent) children than ANY biological parent cares about their kids.   
Overpopulation, what a problem.  Oil will run out at some point and so will clean drinking water.  People who can't even support themselves are bringing children into this world, that, of course, they can't support.  The more people there are in this world, the worse it is for the animals who share it with us.  We knock down more wilderness, driving the animals who live there out of their homes, so we can build more buildings for ourselves.  Meat-eaters will raise more meat-eaters, insuring that animals will continue to be enslaved under concentration camp-like conditions.  We take everything from them: a chance to live natural lives, follow their natural instincts, and be content, their freedom, their lives, and their dead bodies.  We have created a nightmare world for Earth's animals.  Even if everyone suddenly gave a damn about animals, became vegan, and demanded that all livestock be freed immediately, it obviously couldn't be done because road kills would increase exponentially. 
Granted, my own experience in life colors my attitudes about life on Earth.  I have been afflicted with depression and OCD.  I am the result of a teen pregnancy, and my father had left our little family by the time I was two years old.  But when approximately one million people commit suicide worldwide every year, I'm not the only one who isn't happy as a clam.  If you really want to have a kid (or a pet), and you're willing to do whatever it takes to be an exceptional parent, I implore you to adopt.  It really is the right thing to do.