July 1, 2009; Living With Old Men

How old are they? Mook A makes me watch hour after hour of fucking Coronation Street!

First off, Happy Canada Day.

As Frank used to say about it: whoopee. Frank was convinced that Canada was a pipsqueak country which had spent its entire history riding on the coattails of greater nations like France, England and the United States; a sort of parasite nation—a tick, say.

But I didn't want to talk about Frank or Canada Day though old people and their lives do figure. I want to talk about these two particular old people as today the Mooks are celebrating Mook B turning 50. Now that is fucking old. Not as old as Frank or some of the semi-dead things I see when we go for our walks but far older than dogs live and way older than humans deserve to live. I mean: what have humans ever done for the world? Enslaving each other as well as every kind of animal which can be put in a pen or locked in an office (like me when the nurse comes over, the cocksuckers). I go for a walk and breath in their exhaust fumes, their cigarette smoke, the stink of their children and their own rancid farts, which makes any fart which comes out of me smell like roses!

Mook A is even older than B and considering he is already being visited by a nurse three times a week, how—exactly?—does he serve society; I mean besides keeping nurses and doctors busy and filling my food bowl twice a day which any idiot not on crack can do. Mook B works...works hard. But the way he's going the stress should kill him before the medical system does, so at least he's realtively useful. Indeed, to be fair, both are relatively useful for a cuddle and a bed but—again—which human short of crack whores aren't?

There are so many of these humans who are utterly useless! I'm not talking the really old ones 'cause at least they have served their purpose and paid their taxes and also have the sweet little character trait of loving little dogs (and sometimes—ick—cats). I'm talking about the old who, at what they call middle-age, are barely serving a function. They wander through life watching their TV and DVDs, eating crap, smoking, drinking, staring into the approaching void and generally making the future worse.

People wonder why I want to get away all the time. It's because, let's face it, there's got to be something better out there and if there isn't, at least dogs have the good sense to make their own way without social safety nets and medicare and live a good life and—especially!— die young, leaving an adorable corpse.