Max and I were sitting in our easy chair talking about the universe and extraterrestrial life.
“Maxie,” I said, “All the scientists tell us there are billions of galaxies and trillions of stars and a brazillion or two planets like Earth out there. How come none of the aliens has ever visited us?”
“Look around, Dog Dad,” he replied, “We got riots, protests, epidemics, economic collapse, locusts, murder hornets and Kim Jong Un is playing with the big bang-bangs again. Is it any wonder aliens don’t want to make contact with you humans?”
Fair point. That’s also why I’ve been on a social media fast these past few weeks. It started as a social media diet to wean myself from the constant barrage of news, real and fake, and the breathless media jumping on every angle of a story to gin up more outrage.
The diet wasn’t enough. Some of the pollution got through my barriers and once again I found myself talking to the television, a habit that the AJF proclaims is mighty annoying.
So I went on a social media fast; my sole contact being a few comments here and there on some favorite WordPress blogs. You know who you are.
Social, social, social. I’m sick of that word which proves, I guess, that I am indeed anti-social.
Social distancing. Sounds like some type of dance for very shy people. I prefer the more accurate and pithy Irish phrase “physical distancing.”
Social media. What a crock. Social media is the antithesis of being social. Two people, three opinions and within the span of ten comments, Hitler gets mentioned. Oh, and “your Mom.”
Social contract. We used to have one of those or at least pretended to. You don’t see much interest in the common weal these days, eh Bunky?
Social responsibility. All the mega corporations and trans-nationals are stumbling to broadcast ads that proclaim how they have always supported the popular causes, are committed to making things better and will cough up a donation equal to no less than .003% of net profit after tax and bonuses if only you will buy their product which is made in China by children. Uh oh, there I go again.
Social drinking. OK, well at least there’s one thing I can support.
Meanwhile, on the Maltese front, Max finally got a haircut. Miss Jessica opened shop and Max was Johnny-at-the-rat-hole in terms of getting an appointment.
He had forgotten about haircuts. He started quivering when we entered Casa de Perros Muy Peludos and pretended not to recognize Miss Jessica but we all knew that was a bunch of baloney.
An hour or so later he emerged a new pup. We could see his eyes and it turns out he wasn’t really getting fat after all.
When we got home he threw himself on to the floor with more epic moves than a Bollywood movie. I felt kind of sorry for inflicting the grooming on the pup so I offered to take him and the AJF for a snack at McDonald’s.
As a meaningful demonstration of its social responsibility and how it cares for every.single.one. of its beloved customers, the ice cream machine was out of order.
Burn it all down.
Dogs good. People – not ready for prime time. Call me misanthropic.
Categories: The Dog From Rancho Cucaracha