Sunday, October 19, 2014

The Amish Got It Right.

We need to adopt the Amish concept of Rumspringa - in which, when we're younger, we do some stuff that, later, we'd just as soon not be shunned for. 

If I were a judgmental person for silliness or just dumbness, practically everybody I know, including me, would be in a hell of a lot of trouble.

You're all lucky I'm just judgmental for bad stuff. If you've killed all the wolves in the mountains or cut down 3000-year-old trees, or joined the military from dumbness (oh, yes, I apply these mirrors to me, too), or left cats to rot in bags (The police are looking for you), you're not getting away with it around me. There may be no punishment, but there will be pointing and laughing. Or short, hard reports in the Anonymous Tip Line

But if you've done no more than wear your hair different, or THAT shirt, or made fun of your religion (who else has better right?), or crawled around drunk naked barking like a dog, or just crawled around on all fours in full fire gear so all the little school kids will learn you're not a monster but a friendly firefighter - and you're so ashamed you blame me for telling your story as fun, or silliness, or admirable - ask why you react like that.

Who's bullying you? Who's telling you, you can't have that past, just because you're trying to be somebody else, and have every right to re-invent yourself? Who's telling you in your religion you have to shut out a harmless joke when you were having fun? Who is shaming you for acting like an animal most everybody has one of up here - an admirable, noble, happy, brave, kind animal, at that?

Why this IPad Artstudio art?
Your guess is as good as mine.
Shame on them. Not you. Not me. Shame on THEM. If I told a silly story about you, it wasn't to shame you. You made me laugh back then. Or you revealed something about a group you belonged to that needed revealed. Or you did something good for children. 

Perhaps the bullies are going to tell you I'm a tattle-tale, not keeping all the secrets to myself. You know why people can't tattle on me? Because I don't have any secrets. I don't care. If I did something mean or cruel, I can't apologize and take it back or hide it. I did it. I'll own it. I'll try not to do it again - unless it's really funny and you laugh at me, and then I won't be able to help myself continuing the performance any more than the local old I'll-do-what-I-want AND play-music guy throwing his grandkid off the bridge to go not-quite bunjee-jumping (nobody was hurt. This is what rivers are for).

A bunch of bullies once called my brother a Tattle-tale. He turned and sneered, "You're not my friends."

If you do it to my friends or my community, and make them blush and hide, godlets help you if I find out. I'll draw pictures of your crap - and I'm a cartoonist. Nobody should be making you ashamed of your past, even if it was a little past the Rumspringa. 

"High school is never over."

(Oh, and if you don't want people telling stories about you and even tagging you - what are you doing on Facebook? REALLY?)

Note: I know local folks are not all as stupid as they pretend. They may BEGIN by telling you that "all these new flu's" comes from fruit flies (WTF?) but if I jump right in there and say, "No they don't, the flu evolves very quickly," they'll suddenly show they know better. Imagine living in a community where you have to test the waters for the mean and stupid. Gave an old native guy a ride, who started by ragging on "Indian nets," and I said, "Nah, nobody's nets are good." After that, we could talk. I hope to introduce the concept of "Bullshit!" to the community.

Oh, and you with the logging truck, running your engine in a sick woman's yard. If you mean to piss me off, I grew up with the things. I pretty much engine-deaf. But where I grew up, I think it was a law that they were not to be revved up in a municipal neighborhood. Now why would that be a law? Because some numbnuts Tree-hater had done it one time too many, probably next door to the county judge or something. As the Clallam County clerk whimpered to me, "Please, don't make new law." The reason you're not allowed to keep an elephant in your basement in one of the States is because somebody let an elephant die down there - and the fire department had to clean out the goop and bones.

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