À La Recherche Des Animaux Domestiques Perdus

À La Recherche Des Animaux Domestiques Perdus

I was thinking of writing this piece in French, but to save time, I fell back on my more reliable staple, the language the Bard Shakespeare wrote and in the process contributed to its richness.  

Writing has saved my life more than once. It helps me get my aggression out. I kill bastards, morons, and assholes with my words; I stab their ego and stamp out their pride; I go over the moon with my fantasies. I have made legions of enemies that way. I am looking for love in reverse. You don't have to tell me. I know I am different. I've been marching to a different drummer. Dale Carnegie isn't my hero; Nietzsche is. It's hard to live with humans, because silence is difficult. In order to make living with them more easily, I treat most of them with undisguised contempt and disdain, because they deserve it. 

They are fake. They pretend to be nicer than they really are. To know if they really are nice, I would make fun of them to see how they react. Almost invariably, they get angry and childishly try to protect their wounded ego. 

They are ignorant and stupid, so I tell them so. They rarely admit that they are afflicted with ignorance and stupidity, thus confirming what I think of them. 

They are really animals, impervious to truths. I am raising three of them as pets:

1. An ugly and fat iguana that answers to the pet name Pee Vee. It really makes me laugh and relieves me of the daily tedium. 

2. The poor crazy and skinny female formerly stray dog (bitch) with a rather fancy name Chienne Bleue or Dog Thanh. This dog is vicious and really delusional. It thinks it is a heroine about to save a poor people from extinction. 

3. A dim-witted, really stupid, but pretentious monkey called Toyota Itcho. It has tried to speak like a human, but it has no success. It even imitates me by typing on a computer, but the "words" that come out are of course all gibberish nonsense. Despite my years of being around languages, I can't decipher what the monkey has tried to convey. That validates the now accepted truism among linguists that only true humans possess language. Simians can scream and holler all they want, but what they produce is not language. 

These animals always try to get my attention. They howl, scream, and beg me to have a dialogue with them, especially Toyota Itcho. Sometimes, out of pity, I oblige them, making them deliriously happy. This afternoon, on coming back to my condo, I discovered that the place had been ransacked by burglars during my four-day stay in D.C., for a high school reunion; and the door had been left open. These three animals I've kept as pets availed themselves of the situation and got out of the condo. They are too stupid to know the way back. I am looking for them. Does anybody on the Net know where they are? 

October 5, 2015

La Ciudad de Pecados. 

Wissai

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