Um, can we talk?

God, Give Me a Sign
By Joseph Walther


This week’s topic was to be “GREAT SEX AND WHERE TO FIND IT.” Unfortunately, though, I read the Sunday News Journal before sitting down to write. I know I shouldn’t do that, but I did. So, the sex column will have to wait until some other week.

The News Journal, Delaware’s rendition of “fair and balanced”, carried an editorial in this week’s Sunday edition. It concerns an Italian journalist, Oriana Fallaci, who is on trial in Italy. The News Journal calls it a heresy trial. Her alleged crime is the propagation of hate speech, in that she insulted Islam.

Oriana is a 75-year old female version of Andy Rooney, minus all of the warmth and charisma, of course. Her latest book, “The Force of Reason,” lampooned Islam and upset mucho Muslims. The News Journal Editorial Board sides with Oriana on this one. What blows me way is that I agree with the News Journal. This worries me a bit, so I have an appointment with my therapist next week just to be on the safe side.

There is nothing new about religions lampooning each other? I have listened as Jimmy Swaggart, a modern-day Elmer Gantry, ripped the daylights out of the Roman Catholics on national television. The Roman Catholics never miss an opportunity to belittle every religious sect in the world by proclaiming themselves the “true religion.” Islam refers to non-Muslims as infidels. Neither, I hasten to add, are the Muslims shy or averse to insulting other religions. In fact, I believe that the IBRF—International Brotherhood of Religious Fanatics—has voted the Muslims “Best in Class” at doing this. The born again Christians are not exactly slouches when it comes to non-Christian slamming, either. This crap has been going on ever since man created God in his own image.

If I want to receive emails and letters numbering in the thousands, all I have to do is mention religion, birth control, stem-cell research, or homosexuality. It does not matter what I write, a large number of people will not be happy about it and many of the emails will be hate emails. Like Oriana Fallaci, though, I love it when a plan comes together. So far, my government has not seen fit to charge me with anything.

Think about this, folks. There have been highly trained, very intelligent people who claimed to have seen UFO’s. I am not talking about the cooks, barflies, and the usual collection of conspiracy dudes. I refer to responsible trained observers, military and commercial pilots, including an astronaut or two, who have observed unusual sightings. We do not hesitate to silence these observers immediately. If they do not adhere to the restrictions imposed on what the authorities permit them to report publicly, people take whatever steps are necessary to discredit them and ruin their reputations. Hate speech is never an issue when this happens.

On the other hand, people expect us to believe, without question, that an omniscient, omnipotent, and ever-present Deity is hanging around “out there”. This Deity is supposed to have created us in His own image and demands perpetual adulation and obedience through the adherence to the “rules” he gave to His various, handpicked emissaries. And, if we fail to comply, we’re doomed forever. Forget that all of those emissaries, Moses, Mohammed, Joseph Smith, etc. were alone and in places we can no longer find at the time He gave them the “rules.”

Given the size of the known universe, and assuming that it is just a fraction of what’s probably out there, which of these two scenarios is more likely? My vote is for the former. Yet, people expect us to disregard the former as nonsense and accept the latter as fact. Woe is to the one who questions the veracity of the latter. In fact, if you happen to be an Islamist extremist, you have a license to kill the infidels.

The next time any of you are attending a beef-n-beer and the DJ plays the “Electric Slide”, I want you to observe the crowd of people dancing. I also want you to observe the dancers when he plays “Wipeout”. He will play “Wipeout” because Federal Law requires that DJ’s play it at ALL beef-n-beers. Then, I want you to imagine an invisible but advanced civilization watching these humans dancing. What do you think they would be thinking; beyond the fact that white men can’t dance worth a damn? Scary, isn’t it!

Being a Catholic, I still marvel at some of the goings on during various religious ceremonies. For example, during a funeral mass, the priest, garbed in the splendor of his vestments, circles the coffin flicking the Censer—that gold vessel used to burn incense. The aroma of burning incense fills the church as he silently prays for the dead. Then he again circles the coffin, this time flicking the Aspergil, causing droplets of holy water to fall onto the coffin. To millions of Roman Catholics, this is a solemn religious rite; deserving of the utmost in respect and reverence.

Now, if you are old enough to remember, think back to the days of “Ramar of the Jungle.” Do you remember some of those native scenes involving the “witch doctor”, all decked out in his full regalia and glory dancing around some fallen comrade; reciting the appropriate incantations? He shook those rattles and flicked whatever onto his target in order to ward off evil spirits and invoke the power of his gods.

I used to laugh at such antics because educated people “knew” they were baseless. We just didn’t believe in the power of the “witch doctor.” Anyone with an IQ above 50 knew that evil spirits did not exist and such gods had to be false. Yet, when I went to church, as described above, I not only believed in the antics, I respected them. After all, this was my God, this time.

What gives one religious sect a right to claim superiority over all of the others? Get ready! This is going to upset many readers. NOTHING GIVES ANY SECT SUPERIORITY OVER THE OTHERS. In other words, believe what you want but keep your mouths shut about it.

The Catholics have the same degree of factual claim to their God as that Witch Doctor had to his God. The Muslims have the same degree of factual claim to their Islamic God as us Catholics and the Witch Doctors of the world. The various protestant religious sects have the same degree of factual claim to their God. The same holds true for the Born-again Christians, although, this latter group tends to be just as big a pain in the ass as the first time they were born. There is no superior religion. They all espouse the same themes. The only things that change are the holidays.

There is only one exception, the Calvinists. This religious sect gathers at various locations on the anniversaries of homosexuals who have died. Their latest target is Matthew Perry. Each year they gather at his burial site with signs tallying the total number of days that he has been in hell. They torment his family; rendering not so much as a thread of human decency toward those who loved this young man. And, I have yet to hear anyone cry about hate speech. These folks hate homosexuals with a passion. This is not a religion. It is just a hate group gathering under religiously false pretenses and I doubt that anyone would complain if an 18-wheeler lost control and wiped them all out.

There are those who believe in God or some other form of Deity. Others do not. Neither side knows for sure, which gives rise to my group: the Agnostics. To those who believe, no proof is necessary and to those who do not, no proof is possible. The rest of us would be happy to receive some kind of sign. Know what I mean, Vern? What a mess!

I have a dear friend who is a recovering alcoholic. He came close to death because of his addiction. His last resort, Jesus Christ, got him though many a desperate time and helped him get his addiction under control. God is real for him. To him, it was God who turned the wine back into water and saved his life. God very much exists in this man’s life and environment. Who am I to tell him he is full of crap simply because I don’t see it that way? His unyielding faith is what gets him through the night and helps him defeat his demons day in and day out. Good for him.

I have no more business criticizing his faith than I have murdering another human being. Neither do any of you, regardless of your religious philosophy and theological tenets. On the other hand, the self-proclaimed chosen ones have no business criticizing anyone else’s faith as long as it does not violate the laws of the land. Such proselytizing is what gives God a bad reputation. If I were Him, SPLAT, you’re all history.

We need to get real, people. Let’s stop killing each other over who has the best imaginary friend. After all, if we really believe that our God can kick their God’s ass, what makes all of us believe that such a God would need the help of such stupid mortals?

Joseph Walther is a freelance writer. Contact him by clicking on the CONTACT ME link above or email him at TheTrueFacts@comcast.net

View from da hood, the geezerhood

For God’s Sake, What’s Wrong With You People?
By Joseph Walther

I stand at the very edge of the precipice of geezer-hood looking in. I am but a simple slip-of-foot from falling in. I’m not depressed or anything like that. All of my parts still work fine. It’s just that as a man hits middle age and up (up, that’s me), he starts to become introspective about things. Actions that in earlier years he may have considered a bit silly, he now considers hopelessly stupid. Retirement has given me time to observe human nature in its natural habitat. What I have seen serves to convince me that no one is ever too old to find newer and more efficient ways to be stupid.

This week’s topic is about observation. Observing what people buy and watching them go about their daily routines is fascinating and very instructional. It is instructional because it has shown me how wrong I have been. My religion always taught me that the difference between human beings and other animals is that we humans possess souls. Well, maybe we do and maybe not, but either way a soul has nothing to do with the differences between the two species. The real difference is the fact that humans have mastered rationalization and other animals have not.

Observation of the human species is fascinating because of the ability to rationalize. The human propensity for rationalization proves beyond any doubt that dumb luck trumps careful planning. When you don’t know what you’re doing, all of the time and effort to be precise is a total waste.

I was in a grocery store this past Saturday. As I walked down the cereal isle, I was shocked to realize that purchasing a box of corn flakes now requires a second mortgage. I really don’t care what cereal costs because I don’t eat the stuff. If I did, however, I’d stop. Something else amazed me, too. There were a number of people putting boxes of this stuff into their shopping carts and complaining about the price. I am not sure if this was do to sheer economic stupidity or the fact that lots of people have more money than common sense.

As I approached the end of the isle, a small child accidentally knocked a box of Kellogg’s Pop Tarts off a shelf. I leaned over and picked it. I don’t eat these things, either, but I know about them because my kids used to toast them when they were young. I happened to notice the 3-step directions for preparing them. Step one said to remove a package from the container. Step two said to remove the paper container holding the tarts. Finally, step three said to place in a toaster and push the lever down.

My point is that the person who needs these instructions must be a real gem. I would love to meet such a person just so that I could find out how he or she managed to slip past the guards at Happy Ville.

Yesterday, I was going through Borders Book Store. A book titled “100 words every word lover should know” caught my eye. It was on sale for $4.95. I picked it up and began browsing the contents. Here is a small sample of the words. But, keep in mind that these were the easy ones.

Chiasmus, Geműtlichkeit, Glossolalia, Humuhumunukunukuapuaa, Insouciant, Internecine, Inveigle, Lagniappe, Lucubrate. Sang-foid, and of course, the ever popular Sesquipedalian are all words that we, as true word lovers, should be using more frequently.

I can’t tell you how much my pulse quickened at the sight of these words. I thought I would pass out but I was able to regain my sang-foid and carry on. On top of this, the clerk offered me a lagniappe just for looking at it.

The number of “How To” books going out of that store was astronomical. “How to communicate effectively”, “How to find Mr. Right”, “How to get the most from people”, and “How to manage people” comprised just a few of the titles. There was even a Dummies book called “Sex for Dummies”. This one struck me as a perfect gift for that idiot above who needs those directions on how to prepare Pop Tarts.

Three titles really stuck out, though. The first one was “Disciplining your 4-year old without anger” The second one was “How to tell if Mr. or Miss Right is compatible with you”. The third was a book about fifteen inches thick with the title of “How to write fiction”. I must make a comment or two about these titles.

Discipline should never include physical violence. Don’t just yell, “Stop THAT!” and smack the kid. Try this approach. “Why, yes, sweetheart, kitty cat really jumped high. But, honey, you have to promise daddy never to stick you finger in that part of the cat. Ok?” “I will, daddy.” This is a much more civil and intelligent approach and it leaves you more time go about trying to pull those claws out of your living room ceiling

Compatibility between couples is important up to a point. Beyond this point, compatibility is not as important as how couples deal with their incompatibilities. Sex, for example, seems to be a big concern but I don’t understand the reason. I mean, I have been married for 36-years and our sexual tastes are as different as night and day.

I am the adventurous type, always looking to try new things. I love sexy, see-though negligees, bikini panties, garter belts, high heels, and all that erotic stuff. My wife, on the other hand, just does not get into that. In fact, she becomes visibly upset whenever she sees me wearing those things! Ha ha, I’m just kidding. All she really does is roll her eyes and take a couple of valium. The point is that we have learned to deal with some incompatibilities and this has made it possible to stay together for all of these years. Ain’t love great?

So, you want to write fiction. My advice is to do it and stop reading about how to do it. Writing fiction is making stuff up. The secret, and please notice that I do not need 1,000 pages to tell you this, is making it believable. Let me give you an example.

The funeral mass had just ended. As the procession of the bereaved slowly filed past our respective pews following the flagged-draped coffin, Hortense’s eyes met mine as we stepped from our pews to leave the church. Animal lust consumed us and we savagely embraced, devouring each other’s tongues as our clothes fell to the floor. We fell back into her pew as my fingers quickly and adeptly unhooked her bra and exposed her heaving, perfectly shaped mounds. We let our savage desires overtake us. We began to make desperate, unquenchable love, unaware of anyone or anything but our mutual throbbing needs. Both of us were totally devoid of everyone and everything except our own searing, pounding, needs. The attraction was primal, carnal, pure animal! I was like a rabid dog humping the exhaust pipe of Volkswagen. The only words spoken came in desperate gasps, “YES!”, “God Yes”, “MORE”. “NO! NOT BACK THERE!”

Now, can you tell what’s wrong with this excerpt? It’s not believable, that’s what! There are two problems. First, no guy in his right mind is going to want to screw a Hortense. So we have to change her name to something like April or Cyndi, or Debbie. The second problem is the removal of the bra. No man in the entire history of the human race has ever been able to unhook a woman’s bra. So that has to be changed. Other than these two flaws, though, you could be well on your way to a New York Times Best Seller.

Like I said, just write the stuff and stop reading about how to write it.

Joseph Walther is a freelance writer. Contact him by clicking on the CONTACT ME link above or email him at TheTrueFacts@comcast.net

Lady Elaine Fairchild, where are you?

Up Yours, King Friday XIII
By Joseph Walther


I was talking to some of my friends last week who work for one of those outfits that believe in honoring employees with an annual event. In fact, senior management feels so strongly about it, that attendance is mandatory. Can you imagine being told to be there or else? This sounds like something good ole’ King Friday XIII, ruler supreme of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood of Make-Believe would have done. Of course, the down-to-earth, feisty Lady Elaine Fairchild would have told him to stuff it!

What possesses a CEO to designate one day out of a work-year as the day to set up a stump, climb onto it, and give a speech telling employees how important and appreciated they all are? This would not be necessary if management treated every employee every day as though he/she were important and appreciated. Sending a few emails or making a few phone calls or sending a few short letters thanking people for what they do for the organization would do wonders. It wouldn’t require “box lunches”, either.

King Friday XIII, as anyone with children knows, was a pompous megalomaniac who used his power to make himself feel important. Every organization has a King Friday XIII on its payroll. It isn’t always the CEO, but when it is, the situation can be untenable for all of the subordinates. Up to the level of senior management, the subordinates are defenseless against this kind of tyranny. They have no choice but to swallow some pride and go along. Even senior management goes along with it rather than risk losing some status and the associated perks. Unlike those in the lower echelon of the organization, however, senior management has no viable defense for a lack of action. They’re just wimps who lack the courage to make things right.

Lady Elaine Fairchild was the only person in the Neighborhood of Make-Believe who always refused to put up with King Friday’s pompous antics. She never hesitated to call him on his ego-generated unreasonable demands. She got away with it, too, because King Friday knew that she would have preferred being homeless and eating out of a dumpster than to have sold her soul to such an egocentric. Neither did it hurt her position one bit that she knew the location of every buried skeleton. Lady Elaine also knew that she could cause the bureaucracy more trouble than the bureaucracy could cause her. This is the reason she was so effective. It works every time. Every organization needs a Lady Elaine Fairchild, but very few are so fortunate.

People in power positions have an obligation not to be assholes. Good character and great management styles are things that people demonstrate, not announce. Perhaps we should require all such candidates to demonstrate their understanding of this before a promotion. A solid test of character is to observe the way such people treat those who cannot help them in political and/or career pursuits or how they treat subordinates who are unable to fight back. I have spent my entire life observing human nature. I learned a long time ago that security guards, custodial personnel, cafeteria workers, secretaries, grounds keepers, and the myriad of others who do the actual work are much more accurate appraisers of character and great management then all of the “management surveys” in the world, and these folks do not charge a humongous consulting fee, either.

Chief Executive Officers set a tone and direction for their respective organizations. This is what they are supposed to do. I have tried over the years to find an authoritative source that proclaims these individuals infallible. There is none. CEO’s make their share of mistakes, but it is not a character flaw to do so. Whenever they do, though, it is senior management’s job to call them on it, not execute an ostentatious bow and curtsey while chanting, “Correct as usual, Your Majesty.” But, this would take a down-to-earth, unassuming, and likeable Lady Elaine type of person and, as I said, there seems to be a dire shortage of them.

As scarce as they are, I have known a couple of great Lady Elaine types. In fact, I know one who is waiting in the wings for a chance to come forward. She has all of the qualifications. She is a Winner. Lady Elaine Fairchild, your subjects await you.

Joseph Walther is a freelance writer. Contact him by clicking on the CONTACT ME link above or email him at TheTrueFacts@comcast.net

Gee, I'm an asshole!

Yes! I’m An Asshole. But, I’m A Competent One
by Joseph Walther

There I was, stopped at a red light behind another vehicle. I was waiting patiently for the driver in the lead car to go ahead and make his LEGAL right turn on the red. I kept on waiting…, waiting…, and waiting. I didn’t want to blow my horn because, even though he seemed clueless, he probably would have just given me the finger, not turn, and I’d have still been stuck behind him. So, in the interest of efficiency, I pulled around him and made my LEGAL right turn on the red light.

At this point, he gunned his engine and sped out after me! I knew he had something on his mind, so I lowered my window and slowed down. “NO TURN ON RED, ASSHOLE”, he bellowed and raced away talking to himself. I thought to myself, “Wow, this guy is not only stupid but vividly upset.” A sense of, well… pride, yes, PRIDE, welled up inside of me to think that I could have this kind of effect on someone. Dare I even think that my actions ruined his entire afternoon?

This got me to thinking about the term, asshole. We all know, with the possible exception of Delaware’s GOP Chairman, that “asshole” is a euphemistic reference to the opening of our anal canals. For the sake of Delaware’s General Assembly members, the anal canal opening is that darkish little pucker spot located between the cheeks of one’s butt. In other words, the same place you all put your lips when sucking up to all of the special interests groups down there in Dover.

Given all of the crap—no pun intended—that goes on in that region, it’s no wonder that the term “asshole” is also used as a euphemistic reference to people whom we classify as “disagreeable”. Regardless, whenever we use it to describe another human being, we always infer negativity. And, since each of us is an asshole to someone, the term is always relative. In other words, one person’s asshole is another person’s hero. I don’t know about you readers, but I consider the term asshole to be a title of honor. It takes effort and continued dedication to be a competent asshole.

Incompetent assholes don’t know that they are assholes. Competent assholes KNOW that they are assholes. For example, in the incident above at the traffic light, I KNEW I was the COMPETENT asshole. The other driver was the incompetent one. He had no clue, though. It had nothing to do with the fact that he didn’t know the difference between a “No turn on red ARROW” sign and a “No turn on red LIGHT” sign. Um, in case you don’t know, the former has a RED ARROW pointing to the right and the latter has a SOLID RED CIRCLE. Since anyone having read a driver’s manual knows the difference, that driver is stupid. What makes him an incompetent asshole is the way he reacted.

Competent, self-assured assholes are NEVER stupid. Incompetent assholes are ALWAYS stupid. For example, a person does not become a college president by being stupid. However, if that president, during every speech to the college community refers to himself as “your president”, calling him an asshole is understandable, especially when the references are numerous. Stupid? No. Asshole? Yes. A bad person? No. Asshole? Yes. Competent? Yes. Competent asshole? Definitely!

Competent assholes are secure in their personalities. Their confidence is unwavering. Each day, such people know, almost instinctively, that circumstances will provide them with opportunity after opportunity to demonstrate their competencies in the art of being assholes. Not a single day goes by that I, along with all of the other competent assholes, fail to be grateful to nature or, if you prefer, God, for the wonderful opportunities to show “our stuff”.

Remember, as I said earlier, all of us are assholes to someone. So, it isn’t a question of whether or not you are one, too. The fact is that you are. The question is whether you are a competent asshole or an incompetent asshole. A competent asshole is one who is capable eliciting highly emotional responses, complete with obscene gestures and popping cranial blood vessels. An incompetent asshole is always the reactionary to whatever a competent asshole has done or said.

The next time you are driving down I-95 and accidentally cut someone off, keep your cool. As the other driver goes by ranting and raving while giving you the finger, just smile and keep on truckin’. Be proud of yourself. Little ole’ you just put the other driver on the verge of a stroke or heart attack. At the very least, you have ruined his day and took maybe two or three days off his life.

If you are in line at a local convenience store, take your time finding that penny or writing that check for your gum. Don’t worry about the dweebs behind you in line. Let them stew, maybe even pass out from high blood pressure. Just smile at them and keep on digging in that purse or pant’s pocket. When you walk away from the checkout station, be proud of yourself. Look at all that stress you just created!

I want you to write this 1,000 times. “Competent assholes are proactive. Incompetent assholes are reactive.” Got it? If others are going to call us assholes no matter what, then we owe it to ourselves to be the best we can be.

Now get out there and drum up some stress!

Joe Walther is a freelance writer. You may contact him by clicking on CONTACT ME above or by email at TheTrueFacts@comcast.net

So, which way do YOU go?

They’re Both Stupid, But…
By Joseph Walther

This week’s topic is one of the most divisive that humanity has had to face since its inception, creation, evolvement, or accidental happenstance, depending on what or whom you wish to blame or credit. Yes, it is far worse than the gay/straight issue. It makes the pro-choice/pro-life divide seem like child’s play. Allowing God into the public schools is not even in the same league as this topic. When we compare the gauge readings on the “Damage Caused by Scale”, between the global religious debates over which is the “true” religion and the damage caused by this week’s topic, the former seems like a friendly game of chutes and ladders. This topic has caused the destruction of entire families. It has reduced lifelong friends to bitter, eternal enemies. Children have stopped speaking to parents and parents have disowned children over this. Yes, you have probably guessed by now that I am talking about… Oh God, here it goes… dog ownership versus cat ownership!

Let me state at the outset and for the record that I will do my level best to remain neutral on this issue by trying to be considerate of everyone’s feelings, regardless of which side taken. Oh, there is one exception, though. If you are a Chihuahua owner, please stop reading RIGHT NOW. Ok, are they gone? Let me tell you that I do not consider a Chihuahua to be a dog at all. These are just large, shivering rodents with nasty dispositions.

Oh, crap! I thought I told you Chihuahua owners to stop reading this. You just couldn’t listen, could you? I don’t even know why I even bother with these considerate warnings. I might just as well blurt this stuff out and be done with it for all the good my cautionary warnings do! Now I’m going to get all kinds of hate mail. Well, tough titi…breasts. I’m telling you that I would rather be seen leaving an adult bookstore with a hooker and a bottle of scotch than be seen with a Chihuahua! You just try getting a Chihuahua to drink scotch AND they don’t like adult bookstores.

Otherwise, my general feelings about dogs are that they are relatively stupid and they drool a lot. Of course, I think cats are stupid, too, but on a higher level and about more important issues. On the other hand, cats do not drool. At least I have never seen one drool. Hey! Wait just a dag gum minute!

Yes, I bet we are thinking the same thing. Be honest, now. You’re saying to yourselves, “Joe, you have just described about 50% of the United States Congress.” Although, I really don’t think that fifty percent is correct. I’d bet a sizeable amount that it’s closer to 85%. And being a current resident of Delaware, I would have to include the entire General Assembly, the Governor, all of the local school boards, many elementary, secondary, and post-secondary academic administrators, political commentators, most lawyers, and ALL of the left and right wing radio talk show hosts.

Actually, this kind of comparison is not fair; we should not compare the dogs and cats of the world to such human elements. It makes the animals look bad. On top of this, we do ourselves more harm than good when we aim this kind of unwarranted flattery at our officials, elected or otherwise. It sends the wrong message to these people. For God’s sake, dogs can be paper-trained and cats seem instinctively drawn to the litter box.

Alternatively, though, I know that only one in ten politicians is successfully paper-trained and even fewer have been successfully potty-trained. Dick Cheney, for example, still poops in his office, has a nasty disposition, and bites people. On a more positive note, people tell me that Laura Bush is elated that George goes regularly on the paper provided, even though she still has to “aim” it for him from time-to-time. But I’ve digressed too much already. Let’s get back on track.

I think that both dogs AND cats are great pets. They both give unconditional love, affection, and undying gratitude, especially when we include food in the equation. It’s just that dogs seem to be… you know… so… “Baby Huey” clumsy and stupid” and cats are, well… “Up yours aloof and independent.”

Both are capable of running speeds at just below the speed of sound. Cats, though, seem so much more agile at any speed and under ALL conditions. Suppose a dog, barking and growling, is chasing a cat, at about 650 miles per hour. The damn cat can calmly change directions at a 90-degree angle, without any warning, with NO decrease in speed, and keep on going just as though nothing had happened. The dog, on the other hand, will require the services of at least one fire rescue squad to get its head, now embedded as far back as shoulders, out of the brick wall it just ran into. The cat sits on a neighbor’s chaise lounge, a hind leg in the air, licking its butt while shooting one of those “what a dork” stairs in the dog’s direction. The dog, at this point, is still trying to figure out what the hell just happened and wondering if it will ever again be able feel its other body parts.

A dog could knock over one single lamp and NOT be able to hide that guilty look. It might just as well have a sign draped around its neck reading “Oh, shit! I did it. God, I’m sorry”. A cat could knock over every lamp in the living room, in addition to shredding your couch. It would not EVER take ownership of what it just did. It would merely flip its tail high in the air, while giving you one of those “stick it!” glances as it calmly saunters into the dining room to do more damage. In other words, “I did it. Screw you and the horse you rode in!”

My living room has a floor-to-ceiling bay window overlooking the front yard. I watched my daughter’s cat stalk a squirrel as it casually strode along the window ledge across the entire width of the living room. With the instinctive skill of a jungle cat, she crouched and stalked, her ears flat against her head, body all but scraping along the carpet, closer and closer, careful to stay downwind of the prey. Suddenly, with the adeptness of that dog I just described, she leapt; snug in the belief that she had ensnared this helpless prey in her “declawed” front paws.

BAM! The window, in fact, the entire living room shook. I’d even go as far as to say that the neighbors living within a radius of about 2-miles also heard the ruckus. When I looked at her, she had recoiled back from the window, a little shaken, perhaps a tad dizzy, but stunned that she did NOT have the squirrel. I also suspect that she was hurting just a bit, too. But there was no way this cat was going to admit anything of the sort. She just shot me one of those, nasty, ears back, frown-like glances that sent the message; “What are you looking at dip wad? I planned that!”

A dog would have run howling down to the basement in agony. Not that cat, though. It took her about 10-seconds to recover and she just nonchalantly slinked under one of the living room chairs. I suspect, though, if I could have read her thoughts, the message would have been along the lines of, “Damn that smarts! Let me check to see if I still have my fangs. That glass… I gotta start remembering that stinking glass!”

Anyway, this is the basic difference between cats and dogs. While I freely admit that I live with a cat, I simply do not attempt to say one is better than the other. Even though I kind of sort of think I might be leaning, at least a little, toward possibly agreeing in principle with a particular side, if you must have a definitive answer immediately, I must tell you that I am decidedly and definitely more positive than “maybe”, but probably not quite as strong as “perhaps”, so you can put me down as respecting the rights of those who differ with me but as holding whichever opinion most people hold and sympathizing with those who are undecided.

AND I MEAN IT! I would also like to announce my candidacy for the office of…

Joe Walther is a freelance writer. You may contact him by clicking on CONTACT ME above or by email at Joe_Walther@comcast.net