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Category: Humans

One of Those Days
Today was one of those days. I had to get downtown, get that piece of mail in before the last pick-up, then haul back across town in time for my big meeting. Everything had to go perfectly.

Luck was with me. I made every light going in, some by the slimmest of margins. Potential obstacles like double parked trucks and uncertain drivers parted in front of me like the Red Sea. Then, at last, I pulled right into the prime parking spot in front of the Post Office. Miraculously available!

On the way back, it was like I was part of an express train. Ten of us, all rolling through green lights without slowing down even a little. That never happens! Even had time for a little light grocery shopping before my appointment!

As I say, it was just one of those days. Oh, I suppose someone might say that the whole thing was a complete waste of energy. You know, because the Post Office was closed.

But hey, I made great time!
For Art's Sake
I have come to think that everyone is an artist. Each of us, all of us, every last one. It’s part of our genetic makes-up, like the capacity for speech or our near-hairlessness.

Or, I suppose I could say there is an artist in all of us. But that sounds as if he or she is some kind of captive. Anyway, there’s an artist in there, and it has a hand in almost everything we do. Making your bed? Doing the dishes? Straightening a picture on the wall? Exchanging pleasantries with your neighbor? It’s there, guiding our efforts.

Also, I see life imitating art all the time. And back again, art imitating life, in an endless loop. One famous example is particularly striking. Arthur Conan Doyle, creator of Sherlock Holmes, brought his character’s powers of observation and deduction into two real-life crime stories. Doyle, by applying the skills he had originally imagined for his peerless detective, proved the innocence of two men, actually saving one of them from the gallows. Doyle had no history as a detective until he created the greatest one of all time.

That is more than just life imitating art. It’s an example of the creation affecting and even altering the creator. I am willing to suggest that such an effect is not unusual when it comes to artists (like us) and their works.

In fact, I believe it happens every time we employ our inner artist — no matter what the task. Whether the result is a masterpiece for the whole world to behold or a rack of freshly washed dishes, that creative work is reflected back into us. We made it, but it has the power to change us, too. For good or ill. Every time.

Am I making a point here? I’m not sure. What does it mean that our own creations can turn the tables on us? We might have to dip into quantum physics to find that answer. But it is worth pondering that whatever creative juice we put out into the world, no matter how insignificant, becomes an independent agent of change — including within our own nature.

It might be a thing of beauty — or it might be Frankenstein’s monster. The essence of our artist’s creative process will determine the outcome, for the world and for us. That might be worth remembering the next time we make the bed.
Drugs of Choice
Humans have a long history of taking drugs. Alcohol in all its forms has been particularly popular, along with psychoactive plants like mushrooms and marijuana. People just like to get high and have a few laughs. Is there really anything wrong with that? Of course not. That’s why it’s so good to see that drugs are now widely accepted as a good thing. They have come out of the shadows and truly flourished everywhere.

Especially on TV. Not weed and ‘shrooms (not yet, anyway), but you can’t miss all the ads for perfectly legal, doctor-recommended compounds straight from Big Pharma. In the interests of science, I have made a study of those ads and have compiled a list of the medicines that seem to have the most desirable effects (aside from helping people with their medical problems).

Number one has got to be Skyrizi. The people who take these drugs in ads seem to live the most fulfilled, wholesome, and deliriously happy lives. Whatever affliction they may be suffering from is either in remission or completely cured. I’d be gulping down Skyrizi by the handful if I could get my doctor to prescribe it, but he claims I don’t “need” it.

A close second on the high-on-life scale is Ozempic. Again, I’m not sure what malady this drug is meant to address, but it is definitely doing something right. Those ingesting it are active, fun to be with, and beloved by anyone whose lives they touch. Moreover, they don’t seem to be suffering in any way from whatever they’re suffering from.

The same goes for those on a program of Rybelsus (which, coincidentally, professes to be a remedy for the same condition that Ozempic treats). These folks seem happy as well, but I detect a touch of melancholy to the bright-and-shiny yard sales they like to attend. Rybelsus is not so much a downer as a lower upper than Ozempic.

Rounding out the top five stonerific prescription drugs are Leqvio and Rinvoq. They both feature the letter Q in their names (which is qool), but are prescribed, it seems, for different disorders. I rate their “highs” as roughly the same: like some “light mind, light body” sativa that has been forgotten in the back of your sock drawer for a couple of years. Still gets you buzzed, though.

This is all surmisal, of course. I’ve never taken any of these drugs because my physician is such an ethical stickler. All I’ve got to go on is those TV ads, but that evidence is overwhelming: this is some high quality shit.

Fortunately, I do have access to one (and widely advertised) prescription drug: Eliquis. I won’t bore you with the medical condition it’s prescribed for. The main thing — as I have been trying to convey here — is how a drug makes you feel. And what is that feeling with Eliquis, you ask? Well, just take a looks at the ads. Old people smiling! Taking part in fun outdoor activities. It’s like a fountain of youth, they seem to be saying.

Well, I’m here to tell you that it’s not exactly playing out that way (in spite of the usually reliable Q in the name). My happiness level hasn’t gone up appreciably, and you could say that having to take a pill twice a day has actually made me grumpier. Furthermore, I haven’t gotten any friendlier — not like those people in the ads, anyway. They seem to get along famously with just about everybody. Whew!

Come to think of it, they don’t act like sick people at all. And yes, I know they’re actors. I’m not a fool, you know. Anyway, I’m going to keep taking it just in case. It may be a delayed reaction rush.
Put Yourself in the Dog's Shoes
I have known some bad dogs. We all have. For the most part, though, if dogs are treated well by us, then they’re going to be good dogs.

Very good dogs. Our best friends, it is said. Okay, but are they fully committed to the relationship? They wag their tails and seem to be filled with adoration, but is it possible they might be feeling just a touch of say, resentment?

Let’s put ourselves, just for a moment, in the dog’s shoes. We get free food, which we must admit is a pretty good deal. Sort of, anyway. We don’t get as much food as we’d like sometimes. There are no seconds, either, or midnight snacks, or special treats…unless granted by the humans, in their great wisdom and generosity. Even then, it will be only one treat.

Furthermore, we almost never get the really good stuff — the food that humans themselves eat. Certainly no meat, unless you count scraps (waste the humans couldn’t bear to eat). Instead, we get kibble. It’s not that kibble tastes bad. But it’s all we ever get, sometimes for weeks at a time. I mean, Cheetos are good too, but do you want just them and nothing else?

And let’s be frank about freedom, shall we? As a dog, we’re in captivity most of the time. Penned, tied up, boarded, or just locked in the Big House. We could be forgiven for thinking that we are nothing but slaves — if we didn’t so completely buy into this arrangement. It’s kinda pathetic, to be honest.

But maybe that’s just our lot in this dog’s life. We don’t feel resentment because we enter the relationship willingly. We are given food, a warm, dry place to sleep, and lots of pats on the head…in exchange for our freedom.

There is, however, one more little item to consider. Picture us (as dogs, that is) approaching our fifteenth birthdays. Ours has been a full, happy life in many ways, and now we are getting near the end. But wait a minute! The humans — our so-called best friends — still have years, even decades left to live! Long after we have died (or been “put down”), they will sail on without us. Probably pick up a new dog along the way. Or several!

Now do we feel it? We are a lesser species, it seems. Smaller brain, shorter life, and without the ability to speak for ourselves. Plus, no hands! It stinks!

But so what? Even if we do harbor some bad feelings, there’s not much we can do about it. Chew up the furniture? Kill the cat? Become man’s worst enemy? I don’t think so. That would only make you a bad dog, wouldn’t it?
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Yes, voting matters. Polls do not.
~ H, Santa Cruz