|
|
|
Midnight In An Amish Gay Bar
Commentary by Joe Spann
The Politics of Dogs
"You know where you lie on life's Romantic Food - Chain when a 5 - foot tall, 350 pound woman can look at you and say to herself: "Oh yeah, I know I can have him!""
- The Emperor Claudius
Hello! Welcome back to the bar! I gather you enjoyed yourself the last time you were here, otherwise you wouldn't have come back, right? Like I said the last time, this place has a way of growing on you.
I still haven't laid eyes on the true owners of this place, nor any other gay Amish, but I can't shake the feeling that they are somewhere nearby, watching, waiting to see what goes on when I'm in charge of it. Who knows...maybe tonight's the night when one of them will grace us with an appearance!
While we're waiting, there's some stuff I should tell you about, particularly since Hanther spilled the beans about my...uh..."relationship" with Delta. I guess you could call it a relationship, but only if you define the word very loosely! I see her maybe once or twice a year and the encounters are always...well, bizarre to say the least! They are also strangely inspirational, and, afterwards, I always find myself possessed of remarkable insights!
I suppose the best way to explain it all is to tell you about my last encounter with her and how she inspired my latest revelation. But first I have to tell you about how my bedroom is furnished (Just bear with me. You'll understand why in a moment).
Currently, I share a very small house with my 90 year old Grandmother. This is so that I can look after her while performing tasks she can no longer do for herself, such as yard work, cleaning, posting the occasional bail, and screening calls from reporters. As a result, my bedroom is also my studio, which includes a stand for my copy camera, a drawing table, and my computer system. This doesn't leave room for a conventional bed, so I sleep on a small camping cot. Since it only stands about 10 inches high, I wind up sleeping very close to the floor, a situation Delta has taken great advantage of!
For example, about two weeks ago, I was sound asleep on my little cot, having my reoccurring dream about singing Iguanas (don't ask), when I was suddenly awakened by a floor - shaking belch. I looked up and there she was: Delta! She was standing spread - eagled over the cot, wearing a goofy grin and a T - shirt that was two sizes too small and had the words "Kiss Me I'm Irish" written on it. In one hand she held a half - smoked cigarette, in the other was a glass of Kahlua and milk.
Now, being woken from a sound sleep by Delta standing over my bed, belching and farting, is really nothing new. Like humidity in the Summer, it's just something I've come to expect. Yet, this time it was different and the cold hand of panic dug it's way into my gut: Delta was drinking Kahlua! Oh - My - God! Most people don't know this, but Kahlua has a profound effect on Wizard physiology. If you can imagine shooting up heroin and following it with an LSD chaser, then you'll have an idea of what it's like for them. I realized that my only hope of survival lay in "talking her down".
"Uh...Delta...?" I began.
I didn't get any further. She took an enormous drag off the cigarette and flicked it away, then downed the contents of the glass and flung it away as well, smashing it against a wall. In another part of the house, the sound of breaking glass prompted my dogs to begin barking. Delta cast a glassy - eyed stare at the direction of the barking, then raised her arms in a gesture of triumph. She let fly with another belch and bellowed to the heavens, "Received Wisdom!" With that, she bent over me, grabbed my head, turned it to one side...and stuck her tongue in my ear!
You know, until I met Delta, I'd never been a fan of "wet willys". I never cared for getting them and I sure as hell wouldn't think of giving one! And yet...there's ...something...about the way she does it that goes beyond just having someone slobbering in your ear. It's like...the first time Lestat puts the bite on Louis in the movie "Interview With The Vampire". If you remember that scene, Louis is both horrified and enthralled as Lestat drinks his blood and carries him up into the air. With her tongue excavating my ear canal, the fumes of Kahlua and nicotine from her breath seeping into the cells of my brain, and the strange music of barking dogs filling the air, Delta was Lestat to my Louis. Transfixed and helpless, I had no choice but to surrender myself, both to Delta and to the moment.
As I lay there, uncertain about my fate, my mind took flight and left the confines of my body. I traveled to the humid, twilight realm known only to mystics and fans of "The Grateful Dead", where true enlightenment can be found. I don't know how long I floated in that dissipated state, aware only of the distant noise of my dogs barking, but I gradually became aware that it was getting louder. As the sounds grew, my being began to vibrate in tune with each bark and I suddenly began hearing coherent words in the barking! I began to vibrate more violently as I was overwhelmed by the cacophony of dog - thought, and, just as I thought I would surely be torn to pieces - BANG! I was once again in my own body!
Delta was gone. The room was filling with smoke from the fire her cigarette started when it landed in my waste basket. I sat bolt - upright on my cot, her kahlua colored spit dribbling from my ear. The dogs, sensing perhaps that Delta had departed, had settled down and were again quiet. All I could hear now was the pounding of blood in my ears.
I took several deep breaths in an effort to slow down my heart rate, then allowed myself a moment to savor my discovery. You see, in those few moments of enlightenment, I had heard and understood the secret language of dogs! I now know their hopes, fears, ambitions and, most importantly, their politics.
What? Oh, you can't be serious! Of course dogs have politics! Any animal that can ingratiate itself so thoroughly with a different species (us) and still retain some vestige of it's wild self must possess the skills of cunning and manipulation that are the basis of political thinking! In fact, I have learned that their politics closely mirror our own. So much so, that I can even explain it to you using human terms. Here goes: All lap dogs are Democrats, while all wild dogs are Republicans.
Let's start with wild dogs. These would be wolves, foxes, coyotes, etc., and these are definitely the Republicans of the dog world. Bear in mind, though, that I'm not talking about the wimpy, "compassionate conservatives" typified by the likes of Bob Dole or any of the Bush Clan, but the hard - bitten, tough minded social Darwinists like Reagan, Buckley and Goldwater. Like these guys, wild dogs have balls and make no apologies for it. They rely exclusively on their own resources and never submit themselves to the whims of an arbitrary authority. They cannot understand, indeed would be repelled by, the thought of being a "lap dog"! They are free and like it that way.
Of course, they live a pretty hard life. Any food they get depends on how good they can hunt, and if there's nothing to hunt then they go hungry. Shelter is problematic and they can forget any kind of health care. Maybe these hardships are what makes them so moral. Since most wild dogs mate for life, it's pretty obvious that they are deeply committed to "Family Values"!
Now, lap dogs, the Democrats of the dog set, are the polar opposite of their wild cousins, and operate from a completely different set of priorities. For them, the most important goal in life is to submit every aspect of their lives to their masters, otherwise known as "The State". All decisions are left to The State: It will decide when and what they eat, where and when they sleep, where and when they relieve themselves, and whether or not they mate. This last bit really tells you where their minds are. Lap dogs almost never mate for life, unless their partner lives in the same "state". Otherwise, they'll screw anything and will give you some real attitude if you
try and stop them.
In exchange for this subservience, The State provides free food, shelter and, usually, some form of regular health care. I use the term "free" in the sense that lap dogs are really not required to perform any real work in exchange for what The State gives them, beyond the expected displays of affection. As long as they wag their tails and seem pleased to see their masters, their lives will be pretty "cushy", at least by dog standards.
Of course, this arrangement has it's drawbacks, since it leads to some unfortunate attitudes and behaviors on the part of the dogs, the largest problems being begging and passive - aggressiveness. Since they cannot hunt for their food the only reliable way for them to obtain it is through direct and constant appeals to The State. If The State declines, it may find itself having to deal with the dog's passive - aggressive response, which usually involves breaking the rule about when and where to relieve themselves.
Lap dogs do understand and accept the inherent injustice of this arrangement, because, being good Democrats, they believe material comforts are far more important to happiness than the dubious pleasures of the freedom enjoyed by their wild, Republican cousins.
And they do have a point! After all, Lap dogs do live much longer than wild dogs. They enjoy warmth in the Winter and air - conditioning in the Summer. When they're sick, they get medical attention. Food isn't really a problem, except in terms of frequency and, sometimes, variety. For the most part, they can spend their days in amusing themselves as they see fit. All in all, a pretty sweet arrangement. It is for this reason that they hold a pretty hostile contempt for their Republican counterparts, who they are convinced would like nothing more than to deprive all dogs of a good thing.
Now, you are probably thinking that there is a great flaw in my position, because I haven't mentioned working dogs. You might have thought that Sheep dogs, police dogs and guard dogs would have been the Republicans of the canine world, since they work for a living. I hate to break this to you, but working dogs are Communists!
These dogs live by Marx' famous dictum: "From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.", which makes them the dummies of the dog world. They do not benefit directly from their labor, except to receive food, shelter and, if they're lucky, medical care. While you can admire them for their work ethic, they are still living no better, and, in some cases, far worse than their Democratic cousins and are just as much at the mercy of "The State".
The unfortunate reality for both Democrat and Communist dogs is that both will, sooner or later, share the same fate. While they usually live much longer than their Republican cousins in the wild, they will pay a price for their subservience to "The State". They discover that when they have reached a certain age and their health begins to break down, The State, weary of providing health care, places them on the nasty end of a lethal injection. It also doesn't matter if the dog lives in a so - called "compassionate" state, since these states are no less prone to lethal injection than any other. The only difference is that tears will be involved.
Thank you, State!
The wild Republicans are all too aware of this and consider this to be a pretty crappy way to reward a lifetime of service. They have gone to great lengths to explain this to the others, but it's an uphill battle. After all, who would exchange a circumscribed life of free comfort for a life of work where comfort isn't a guarantee!
So, this was the revelation that Delta wanted me to have when she stuck her tongue in my ear. This was what she meant by "received wisdom". I suppose that she has been taking an interest in this year's political campaign and wanted to make sure that I understood the lessons to be learned by comprehending the politics of dogs.
I now believe that the best way to vote this November will be to imagine myself as a dog and vote accordingly. As I enter the booth, I will have to answer the question: "what kind of dog am I?" Am I a wolf (Republican)? Am I a Chihuahua (Democrat)?
What are you?
Speaking for myself...I really hate needles!