Dog Like Me
I was thinking of dressing up like a dog to see how people would really treat me if I were a dog. Like the book Black Like Me, published in 1961, about a caucasian reporter who made himself look black to see how he would be treated. I do not, of course, intend to compare my silly blog with this serious work of nonfiction. My blog is worth the paper it's written on.
I quickly nixed the idea. Many reasons. The outfit would be constraining and hot. I'm not fixed. There aren't too many parts of my body I can lick. I don't really want to go around smelling butts or poo to make the illusion real.
For a time I thought I'd dress up like God, instead of Dog, and see how people treat me. Then I realized this has been tried already by Donald Trump.
But I now have an appreciation for some of the things Newman lives with everyday. In many posts I have arrogantly made fun of him for being afraid of the vacuum, pylons, snowmen, Revenue Canada. All but the last one are completely irrational fears.
So I think, as I'm sure all of you do to, that I am superior because a vacuum doesn't scare me, even when I don't know how to use one.
Well, I am wrong. Today, in my shower, I was greeted by a millipede. She was resting quietly, having just looked for a mate I suppose, until I rudely threw open the shower curtain. She responded in a completely rational manner. She ran for her life.
I, however, responded like a weak, cowardly, or ineffectual person, which is the dictionary definition of wuss. I reacted with such fear that my heart punched a small hole in my chest, squeezed out and booked time at the Kind Edward hotel spa to settle down.
Why am I afraid? She has no teeth, she's much smaller than me, and I don't think she's looking for money because I fathered children with her. In fact, she is kind of beautiful. When she scurries away for her life, her legs move in this undulating kind of way. Most things in nature that undulate are beautiful, save for people like Howard Stern or Getty Lee.
A website I checked said the SAFEST way to get rid of these undulating creatures is to step on them or vacuum them up. I can't vacuum her because then Newman acts like a wuss. Then you have wussi, I suppose. I was going to rent time on a CIA satellite, track her movements, build a life-like model of her home, practice dropping down on her in complete stealth, and then I guess break several hundred of her legs so she can't get away. But I chose the safe way. Whew!
Why are we humans so afraid of these things? Still thinking…
