Jack & Berkeley

Jack & Berkeley are my friends.  They are also my friend's cats.  I love them.  They make life better.  Pets can extend the lives of people who take care of them.  Petting, and cuddling with, them has therapeutic value.
Berkeley is more outgoing than Jack.  It took me a while to get to know Jack.  Every time I visited my friend's house, for the longest time, he would hide from me the whole time I was there.  Eventually, he came around.  He scares easily.   We continue to have breakthroughs.  Just as I had done several times before, I spent the night on my friend's couch in his house.  But, this time, Jack slept on top of my lower legs.  Jack's a big cat; he's overweight.  But even though I was uncomfortable, I was happy to have him there.
Berkeley is cute too.  One time, he lied on the couch in a way that made a perfect pillow for me.  I just had to put my head (gently) toward the couch, and it would land on Berkeley.  He didn't mind being my pillow for a while. 
It's a shame people love their pets so much, but eat meat, and, by doing so, show they don't care about the animals they're eating.  If only people could imagine their cat or dog in place of the chicken, cow, pig, or turkey that had his of her life taken so they could eat whatever they want for lunch.  We're in control.  Humans are the strong, and animals are the weak.  Animals love it when we treat them well.  It's a real shame that we treat so many of them so cruelly.

Pain

Pain in my brain
Pain in my heart
Pain in my hernia
Pain in my knees
Pain in my back
Pain in my soul
Pain in my soles
Pain in my stomach
Pain in my head
Pain in my legs
Pain in my hands
Pain in my life
Pain in my liver
Pain in my throat
Pain in my feet
Pain in my ankles
Pain in my lungs
Pain in my pancreas
Pain in my gall bladder
Pain in my rectum
Pain in my neck

Pain in my ass

Thank god for Suicide

 
I don't capitalize god.  If he or she doesn't like it, he or she can put a lightning bolt through my head.  Come on, god!  I dare ya!  I dare you to put a lightning bolt through me head.  Yeah, that's what I thought.  Kiss my ass.
Anyway, suicide is a necessary evil.  I'm so glad it exists.  It's always there: 24 hours a day and 7 days a week.  I can end my pain at any time.  It's a real comfort to know I can do it, and I can do it in a number of ways.  Variety is the spice of life (and death).  I've pondered suicide quite a bit.  I know it's ugly.  I don't want to do it.  But, according to my beliefs, it effectively ends pain.  One of the things that keeps me from doing it is imagining my body trying to survive.  I think of suicide as the mind killing the body.  The mind attempts to kill the body, but the body struggles to survive.  It thrashes around on the end of a noose and tries to not drown.  Everyday, I try to take good care of my body.  I hate the thought of killing it.  So I don't want to kill myself.  But life sucks.  I don't understand how people can start a whole business by printing "Life is good." on T-shirts (and whatnot) and be successful.  Life is not good.  I feel like I'm living in a Twilight Zone episode.  Most people are miserable, but they say they're happy and life is good. 
Another example of a necessary evil is abortion.  I was definitely born too late.  If I had been conceived in 1974 (or later), I probably would have been aborted.  I would have avoided so much pain: past, present, and future.  I was the unwanted result of teenage sex.  I'm pro-choice.  Countless people have avoided unfathomable amounts of pain because their lives were nipped in the bud.  Because I've had so little sex, and some luck, I've never gotten a woman pregnant.  It really is important to always be learning and progressing.  I saw an excellent documentary on abortion.  I thought I was all for it.  Then I saw the aftermath of one.  I saw the baby body parts on the doctor's tray.  I saw an arm and a head with at least one eye.  It didn't make me agree with the pro-life people, but it helped me understand them more.  Abortion is necessary, but it's ugly.     

I Love Penny

Got your back.

I finally named her.  She may be the last groundhog left in this immediate area.  There might be another, but she rules the territory around my windows.  It is possible that she has chased all her sisters and her mother away.  She has claimed the hole she grew up in as her own.  The hole is right next to the building I live in.  The first groundhog I ever named, Sheila, used to live in this hole.  Anyway, her name is Penny.  I think it fits her well.  She's very cute, but, then again, the vast majority of them are.  She's been frightened a little too much lately.
The birds were driving me crazy.  Whoever designed the kitchen fans in these buildings is a real dummy.  Birds seem to think they make perfect bird houses.  Since I love animals, I put up with them for the longest time.  Thump!  That's the sound of a bird landing behind the kitchen fan.  You could hear that several more times than you would ever want to in any given day.  Chirp, chirp, chirp!  Birds make so much noise.  Especially baby birds, who are probably saying "Feed me!" most of the time.  I'd finally had enough.  They made so much noise on a daily basis; they were driving me nuts.  I began to try to scare them away.  They'd make their noise, then I would go over to the fan and tap hard on the outside of it: hoping it would scare them away.  It was just a temporary solution, though.  They always came back.  I called the office about it.  The office manager said they can put a cover on it, but they don't like to, because the fan keeps the units from getting too smoky.
I said, "I don't care about that; these birds are driving me crazy!"  Besides, I don't fry, or burn, anything.  I bake potatoes, boil pasta, and so on.  I never do any smoky cooking.  So they put the cover on.  Things were fine for months, but I recently heard the birds again.  I went outside to look, and, sure enough, the cover came off and was hanging open on one side.  But when I went outside to look, I scared Penny.  She had been grazing, and she ran into her hole when she saw or heard me.  So I called the office again and asked them to put the cover back on.  But the next day, I kept hearing the birds.  Since I saw one of the maintenance guys spraying freakin' bushes, instead of covering my fan, I called the office again to say that no one had done it.  I was told it would be done that day.  I went for a walk.  When I returned, I checked to see if the fan had been covered.  Poor Penny, I scared her again.  She dove into her hole.  But then she stuck her head out to look around: very cute.  Finally, the fan was covered.  And no birds were trapped inside.  There were none in there at the time; I checked.  

Bumpkin Ate Human Flesh!

This groundhog likes the taste of human flesh.

I came home one fine day.  After saying hi to Bumpkin, Lucinda, and Sloopy, who were watching Groundhog Day again (How many times have they seen it?  I lost count, but it's well over 100 times for sure.), I changed into my pajamas and slippers.  Then I went to the fridge to get some cold water.  I opened the door, and there it was: a human head!  I screamed like a little girl.  I couldn't help it.  Then I heard it: laughter.  Bumpkin, Sloopy, and Lucinda were laughing their little groundhog heads off.  I slammed the fridge door shut and marched to their bedroom.
"What have you done this time, Bumpkin?" I asked.
"Hey, watch your tone, buster!  I'll forgive you this time, because you screaming like that is the funniest thing I ever heard!"  She cracked up laughing, and she was joined by Sloopy and Lucinda.
"It's not funny, Bumpkin.  I assume you killed that guy.  You're going to get us into big trouble."
"The harder they come, the harder they'll fall.  If they want to come after me, they know where to find me.  Anyone seeking vengeance against me will suffer a similar fate."
"Where's the rest of him?"
"We ate him," replied Bumpkin.
"Wow.  How did he taste?"
"Pretty darn good."
"I don't really have a problem with you guys eating human flesh.  After all, people eat all kinds of animals.  Who am I to say that animals shouldn't eat people?  How did this all happen?"
"There was a knock at the door.  I ignored it.  Then I heard the door unlocking and opening."
"Uh-oh," I said.
"As I was saying, I heard someone come into the apartment.  So I came out to investigate.  This guy was standing there.  He just stared at me like a big dummy.  I knew I had to snuff him, but I didn't want to make a mess in the apartment."
"Thank you."
"So I used my powers to open the window and screen.  I tossed him outside the window, and kept him suspended in midair.  Then I separated his head from his body.  I let the blood drain out of his head, then I put it in the fridge as a joke for you to find."
"Good one.  You got me."
"Obviously.  Then I burned his clothes off with a fireball.  And then I cooked him with another fireball at 400 degrees for about an hour.  He was delicious."
"Excuse me for a moment please," I said to the sisters.  I walked back into the kitchen and opened the fridge.  Sure enough, I recognized the man.  He was one of the maintenance workers at the apartment complex.  Poor bastard.  He was just trying to do his job.

Curse of Bumpkin

Is Bumpkin evil?

Beware thee the Curse of Bumpkin, for tis a powerful one!  Damn you!  Damn you, cursed brain, for coming up with the perfect name for a baby groundhog: Bumpkin.  The pursuit of perfection sometimes leads to madness.  I named her so innocently.  I knew not what I was doing.  I created a monster!  I named her then went about my business.  I was watching a DVD when "Bumpkin" popped into my head.  Yes, it's a cute name for a baby groundhog; now let's get back to the DVD.  However, a few minutes later, Bumpkin popped into my head again.  Yes, I know, Bumpkin: wonderful, great, now let's move on.  But I couldn't move on.  I can 't go five minutes without thinking of Bumpkin!  She's in my head, and she's controlling my thoughts!
Whatever you do, never, never, never, even if a gun is pointed at your head (even if a baby groundhog is wielding the gun), name a baby groundhog Bumpkin.  Don't make the same mistake I did.  If you do, you will surely live to regret it.  I know, because I have sowed the wind, and now I am reaping the whirlwind.  When you can't go five minutes without Bumpkin in your brain, you are a step away from complete, unadulterated madness!
No, Bumpkin!  I will not shed blood for you!  You don't need blood!  You eat grass.  No Bumpkin!  I will not write your name on the sidewalk in spilled blood!  And I won't forget to dot the "i."  Wait a second!  I won't dot the "i," because I'm not doing it at all!  I'll do no such thing!  You don't need that!  I know it was me who named you!  What does that have to do with writing your name using the blood of an innocent, pray tell?  You are completely out of control, Bumpkin.  Remember the days when you were content to be cute, eat grass, and play with your sisters?  Please, I beg you, return to your carefree, innocent ways.  I can't take the pressure anymore!  Please get out of my head!  No!  You do not need blood!  Please free me, Bumpkin!  Please free me from your magic baby groundhog spell!