This is not a pretty LJ entry. Fuck you, July.
Fuck July. July needs to die in a conflagration and stop being July.
Warning: this entry was written in a state best described as "in the midst of a meltdown."
There is also potentially triggery mention of animal abuse, cancer, and death. Proceed with caution.
My cousin Peter passed away from a rare form of cancer. (Neck cancer. I was utterly floored when I stopped being horrified - who gets neck cancer? Us, apparently.) I haven't written about it in public LJ entries because I just don't have the energy - I'm just numb, cold, and have this sinking feeling of teetering on the edge of a very deep abyss. Peter was the aikido master of the family, the wisecracking pillar of sarcasm, the adventurer, the one who really got out there and lived with every ounce of his being. He surfed, he made extreeeeeme gardening a sport, he mountain climbed, he did it all. It's really hard knowing that he's not there.
But I'll need to write a whole separate entry about him.
There's been so much bizarre cancer in my family over the last few years that every time I think about it, I'm quite sure that I'll be the next to be hit. My lifestyle factors tend to put me on the low risk list - vegan diet, lots of fruits and veggies, I'm not stuffing my face with dead animal flesh fatty meat thrice daily (er...apologies, did not mean my original wording to be a massive condemnation of the omnis on my flist), and I barely eat any saturated fat (to the point that my PCP has ordered me to eat a little more saturated fat to balance out the fatty acids in my diet - so coconut, coconut, coconut).
The imminent job loss isn't helping my frame of mind. Normally I cope with job loss well - I've been through the meat grinder of the dot com bubble burst, and I can usually get it together to be proactive in my job search, not feel trapped and frightened, and just get on with the task list of job hunting. See, I don't have the cushion, privilege, and luxury of family supporting me through this - I'd have to live on unemployment alone, and I cannot survive on that given my monthly expenses.
I was surfing YouTube the other night and by GOD, someone had uploaded The Saints "Stranded."
Because this is EXACTLY how I feel right now:
...And that remains one of the greatest songs of the 20th century - there's a reason why Nick Cave cites them as a seminal influence on his own work. (I love how Nick Cave once famously commented that The Saints had the best "fuck you" attitude of any band ever, and that every other Australian musician around at the time learned from their epic displays of totally not giving a shit about their audience.) The Saints are why I roll my eyes at so much third, fourth, and fifth wave diluted pop punk because please. NOTHING they do can compare to the first wave.
While I'm on the Desolation Train: Remember the fine gentlemen of Rescue Ink? The group of intimidatingly huge and heavily tattooed bikers who also happen to be dedicated warriors in the fight against animal abuse (not a few of them vegetarian, too!)? The guys that will bring their game to any incident of horrific animal abuse that they hear about, walk around the neighborhood, and help law enforcement find the perpetrators?
I'm on their mailing list. I donate to them.
Being on their mailing list is emotionally grueling because I know that every time I get an e-mail from them, I dread opening it due to the fact that I'm going to hear about the kind of animal abuse that makes me want to wipe entire neighborhoods off the map.
I warn you, this is not pretty.
There was a recent incident in North Philly where a pregnant female pit bull was hung from a chain, stoned to death, and her dead body left outside:
"A couple of weeks after our trip to Baltimore, we rode our motorcycles down to North Philly to find Justice for Justice. She was a pregnant pit bull who was hung by a chain and stoned, her body was left out for all to see.
It was an important mission for us because whoever did this is a sick individual and needs to be taken off the streets. A person like that probably doesn't just abuse animals, but children and other people, too.
So, we rode into Philly, met with SPCA officials there and started going door to door, canvassing the neighborhood. Even in a tough neighborhood like that, when people see Rescue Ink coming, they don't ignore us. And, since we're not cops, they're sometimes more likely to give us information than the police.
So, we got a suspect's first name and descriptions of some of his tattoos. We know it's only a matter of time until Justice's murderer is caught.
In the meantime, we were able to help some other animals in the area. While we were going around the neighborhood, Joe Panz looked over and saw a dog's ear sticking out of some debris. He dug through it and found a dog, chained to a tree with only 16 inches of room -- no food and no water.
We got that dog out of there and the SPCA got a search warrant and saved some other animals from the same house. The person inside said they fed the animals a couple of days earlier.
So, even as we wait for Justice in one case - we know we helped other animals and spread the message in a tough neighborhood that abusers are losers."
As if that wasn't enough to break my heart, they made Justice a little memorial plaque. I spent forty-five minutes in tears after seeing the picture of her body and the plaque that they made her in her memory.
In June they rode to Baltimore to help find the assholes responsible for setting a female pit bull named Mercy on FIRE:
"Rescue Ink rode our motorcycles down to Baltimore in June to help find who doused Mercy with gasoline and set her on fire. We worked with local media and rescue groups to increase the reward for information and urged local law enforcement to take the case seriously. Due to all the attention surrounding the case, someone turned in the people responsible into the Baltimore police for the reward that you helped raise.
RESCUE INK rode through Baltimore where Mercy was attacked. We and let everyone know who we are and why we were there, and that this type of abuse will not be tolerated anymore. we are here to put an end to it once and for all.
It's too late to save Mercy, but not to late for others.
RESCUE INK would like to thank everyone who donated to make this mission possible."
You - you people on the flist who live in your little comfortable worlds and ignore atrocities like this because oh noes, it makes you uncomfortable. Don't be a coward and look away from these horrors - it happens all around you.
Since existing American laws on animal absue are woefully inadequate, it takes people like Rescue Ink to actually do something, and frankly? I'm fine with their methodology of direct confrontation, investigation, and intimidation.
Because people who do this to dogs and cats and all the other creatures of the Earth no longer deserve my compassion. They are sociopaths. They do not deserve to be allowed to live in the already catastrophically twisted thing that passes for human society - they do nothing but perpetuate that psychology of abuse, of othering animals into things rather than as living, breathing creatures that deserve compassion, good care, and a life free of abuse.
You know what you can do? The next time you see a lost dog or cat, STOP THE DAMN CAR and try to help. The next time you see someone screaming at an animal or abusing them? Don't walk or drive on by - stop and intervene. Stop relying on everyone else to do what you should be doing.
This extends to media, too. I'm so tired of seeing depictions of violence against animals in television and comics used for comic effect or to reinforce the supposed bad-assery of a given fictional character (I'm not talking about the comedic tropes of punching sharks or Gorilla Grodd or Frank Castle punching a polar bear - and even FRANK exhibited remorse, which is yet another reason that I love me some Frank Castle).
Yeah, that page of Renee Montoya punching out a Doberman in Batwoman #1 and following it up with a flippant comment is exactly the kind of egregious depiction that I'm talking about. But I have a whole separate entry planned on how we, as a society, continually tolerate, reinforce, and inure ourselves to an acceptable level of violence against animals purely for our enjoyment - and this happens in the media we consume. It's rampant, constant, and sickening to me. (The fact that I've fostered, rehabilitated, and trained numerous dogs with aggression problems over the past ten years means that every time I see an aggressive dog getting beaten in a comic, I can't help but say "Wow. Way to go, asshole - you just punched out a frightened dog.")
So, if you can, donate to Rescue Ink. They're one of many worthy groups of people who decided to stop living in a safe "lalalalalala I can't hear you" bubble. They get out there and do what all of us should be doing.
Every little bit helps.
I actually wrote Rescue Ink after I first donated to them in 2008. About a week later I received an e-mail back from Mary Fayet of Rescue Ink, and that too made me cry in appreciation that there ARE still some good people on the planet.
Here's what she wrote:
Dear _______,
Thank you for contacting Rescue Ink and sending us your support. All of us at Rescue Ink have been blessed with all the attention and support. It has definitely been an amazing time for Rescue Ink, our goals, programs and most of all the animals. I do appreciate your patience with waiting for our reply. The animals being our number one priority, we always focus first on the severe abuse/neglect cases we are receiving daily.
Your letter has really taken me back and has touched my heart. To do what we do, I sometimes have to work with my head and not run with my heart. Well, your letter has touched me and has actually brought tears to my eyes. Good tears, tears of understanding. Though we cannot save all the animals, we truly work very hard for the ones we can. On those difficult days, I am fortunate enough to have a few fosters in the house who will know that we are working together for the same goals. You are definitely correct when you state the laws have to change. I truly believe with hard work and dedication the laws will work for the animals.
If you ever make it to New York, please contact us. It would be great to meet you. Thank you so much for your email, support, and donation. Though this is not a Rescue Ink term, you are definitely an Angel with a furry tail. Thank you.
Wishing you all the very best,
Mary
Believe me, the next time I go to New York City, I am DEFINITELY taking Rescue Ink up on their offer - yeah, I'll happily jump on a Harley and help them go ahunting for a day or two.
As for the people who did what they did to Mercy and Justice?
I wish I could find compassion for them - some of them are undoubtedly recapitulating abuse that they themselves must have suffered.
But I can't. So, even though I tried to retire this phrase from my lexicon, I'm feeling quite emotional today. Thus, I hope they die in a fire.
Edit: Please do NOT post any comments here with examples of animal abuse that you've witnessed or come across or read about. I am not in an emotional place where I can deal with reading it. Not today. Indulge me in this display of entitlement for the next twenty-four hours - I'm sure I'll have my skin thickened back up by tomorrow.
Warning: this entry was written in a state best described as "in the midst of a meltdown."
There is also potentially triggery mention of animal abuse, cancer, and death. Proceed with caution.
My cousin Peter passed away from a rare form of cancer. (Neck cancer. I was utterly floored when I stopped being horrified - who gets neck cancer? Us, apparently.) I haven't written about it in public LJ entries because I just don't have the energy - I'm just numb, cold, and have this sinking feeling of teetering on the edge of a very deep abyss. Peter was the aikido master of the family, the wisecracking pillar of sarcasm, the adventurer, the one who really got out there and lived with every ounce of his being. He surfed, he made extreeeeeme gardening a sport, he mountain climbed, he did it all. It's really hard knowing that he's not there.
But I'll need to write a whole separate entry about him.
There's been so much bizarre cancer in my family over the last few years that every time I think about it, I'm quite sure that I'll be the next to be hit. My lifestyle factors tend to put me on the low risk list - vegan diet, lots of fruits and veggies, I'm not stuffing my face with dead animal flesh fatty meat thrice daily (er...apologies, did not mean my original wording to be a massive condemnation of the omnis on my flist), and I barely eat any saturated fat (to the point that my PCP has ordered me to eat a little more saturated fat to balance out the fatty acids in my diet - so coconut, coconut, coconut).
The imminent job loss isn't helping my frame of mind. Normally I cope with job loss well - I've been through the meat grinder of the dot com bubble burst, and I can usually get it together to be proactive in my job search, not feel trapped and frightened, and just get on with the task list of job hunting. See, I don't have the cushion, privilege, and luxury of family supporting me through this - I'd have to live on unemployment alone, and I cannot survive on that given my monthly expenses.
I was surfing YouTube the other night and by GOD, someone had uploaded The Saints "Stranded."
Because this is EXACTLY how I feel right now:
Click to view...And that remains one of the greatest songs of the 20th century - there's a reason why Nick Cave cites them as a seminal influence on his own work. (I love how Nick Cave once famously commented that The Saints had the best "fuck you" attitude of any band ever, and that every other Australian musician around at the time learned from their epic displays of totally not giving a shit about their audience.) The Saints are why I roll my eyes at so much third, fourth, and fifth wave diluted pop punk because please. NOTHING they do can compare to the first wave.
While I'm on the Desolation Train: Remember the fine gentlemen of Rescue Ink? The group of intimidatingly huge and heavily tattooed bikers who also happen to be dedicated warriors in the fight against animal abuse (not a few of them vegetarian, too!)? The guys that will bring their game to any incident of horrific animal abuse that they hear about, walk around the neighborhood, and help law enforcement find the perpetrators?
I'm on their mailing list. I donate to them.
Being on their mailing list is emotionally grueling because I know that every time I get an e-mail from them, I dread opening it due to the fact that I'm going to hear about the kind of animal abuse that makes me want to wipe entire neighborhoods off the map.
I warn you, this is not pretty.
There was a recent incident in North Philly where a pregnant female pit bull was hung from a chain, stoned to death, and her dead body left outside:
"A couple of weeks after our trip to Baltimore, we rode our motorcycles down to North Philly to find Justice for Justice. She was a pregnant pit bull who was hung by a chain and stoned, her body was left out for all to see.
It was an important mission for us because whoever did this is a sick individual and needs to be taken off the streets. A person like that probably doesn't just abuse animals, but children and other people, too.
So, we rode into Philly, met with SPCA officials there and started going door to door, canvassing the neighborhood. Even in a tough neighborhood like that, when people see Rescue Ink coming, they don't ignore us. And, since we're not cops, they're sometimes more likely to give us information than the police.
So, we got a suspect's first name and descriptions of some of his tattoos. We know it's only a matter of time until Justice's murderer is caught.
In the meantime, we were able to help some other animals in the area. While we were going around the neighborhood, Joe Panz looked over and saw a dog's ear sticking out of some debris. He dug through it and found a dog, chained to a tree with only 16 inches of room -- no food and no water.
We got that dog out of there and the SPCA got a search warrant and saved some other animals from the same house. The person inside said they fed the animals a couple of days earlier.
So, even as we wait for Justice in one case - we know we helped other animals and spread the message in a tough neighborhood that abusers are losers."
As if that wasn't enough to break my heart, they made Justice a little memorial plaque. I spent forty-five minutes in tears after seeing the picture of her body and the plaque that they made her in her memory.
In June they rode to Baltimore to help find the assholes responsible for setting a female pit bull named Mercy on FIRE:
"Rescue Ink rode our motorcycles down to Baltimore in June to help find who doused Mercy with gasoline and set her on fire. We worked with local media and rescue groups to increase the reward for information and urged local law enforcement to take the case seriously. Due to all the attention surrounding the case, someone turned in the people responsible into the Baltimore police for the reward that you helped raise.
RESCUE INK rode through Baltimore where Mercy was attacked. We and let everyone know who we are and why we were there, and that this type of abuse will not be tolerated anymore. we are here to put an end to it once and for all.
It's too late to save Mercy, but not to late for others.
RESCUE INK would like to thank everyone who donated to make this mission possible."
You - you people on the flist who live in your little comfortable worlds and ignore atrocities like this because oh noes, it makes you uncomfortable. Don't be a coward and look away from these horrors - it happens all around you.
Since existing American laws on animal absue are woefully inadequate, it takes people like Rescue Ink to actually do something, and frankly? I'm fine with their methodology of direct confrontation, investigation, and intimidation.
Because people who do this to dogs and cats and all the other creatures of the Earth no longer deserve my compassion. They are sociopaths. They do not deserve to be allowed to live in the already catastrophically twisted thing that passes for human society - they do nothing but perpetuate that psychology of abuse, of othering animals into things rather than as living, breathing creatures that deserve compassion, good care, and a life free of abuse.
You know what you can do? The next time you see a lost dog or cat, STOP THE DAMN CAR and try to help. The next time you see someone screaming at an animal or abusing them? Don't walk or drive on by - stop and intervene. Stop relying on everyone else to do what you should be doing.
This extends to media, too. I'm so tired of seeing depictions of violence against animals in television and comics used for comic effect or to reinforce the supposed bad-assery of a given fictional character (I'm not talking about the comedic tropes of punching sharks or Gorilla Grodd or Frank Castle punching a polar bear - and even FRANK exhibited remorse, which is yet another reason that I love me some Frank Castle).
Yeah, that page of Renee Montoya punching out a Doberman in Batwoman #1 and following it up with a flippant comment is exactly the kind of egregious depiction that I'm talking about. But I have a whole separate entry planned on how we, as a society, continually tolerate, reinforce, and inure ourselves to an acceptable level of violence against animals purely for our enjoyment - and this happens in the media we consume. It's rampant, constant, and sickening to me. (The fact that I've fostered, rehabilitated, and trained numerous dogs with aggression problems over the past ten years means that every time I see an aggressive dog getting beaten in a comic, I can't help but say "Wow. Way to go, asshole - you just punched out a frightened dog.")
So, if you can, donate to Rescue Ink. They're one of many worthy groups of people who decided to stop living in a safe "lalalalalala I can't hear you" bubble. They get out there and do what all of us should be doing.
Every little bit helps.
I actually wrote Rescue Ink after I first donated to them in 2008. About a week later I received an e-mail back from Mary Fayet of Rescue Ink, and that too made me cry in appreciation that there ARE still some good people on the planet.
Here's what she wrote:
Dear _______,
Thank you for contacting Rescue Ink and sending us your support. All of us at Rescue Ink have been blessed with all the attention and support. It has definitely been an amazing time for Rescue Ink, our goals, programs and most of all the animals. I do appreciate your patience with waiting for our reply. The animals being our number one priority, we always focus first on the severe abuse/neglect cases we are receiving daily.
Your letter has really taken me back and has touched my heart. To do what we do, I sometimes have to work with my head and not run with my heart. Well, your letter has touched me and has actually brought tears to my eyes. Good tears, tears of understanding. Though we cannot save all the animals, we truly work very hard for the ones we can. On those difficult days, I am fortunate enough to have a few fosters in the house who will know that we are working together for the same goals. You are definitely correct when you state the laws have to change. I truly believe with hard work and dedication the laws will work for the animals.
If you ever make it to New York, please contact us. It would be great to meet you. Thank you so much for your email, support, and donation. Though this is not a Rescue Ink term, you are definitely an Angel with a furry tail. Thank you.
Wishing you all the very best,
Mary
Believe me, the next time I go to New York City, I am DEFINITELY taking Rescue Ink up on their offer - yeah, I'll happily jump on a Harley and help them go ahunting for a day or two.
As for the people who did what they did to Mercy and Justice?
I wish I could find compassion for them - some of them are undoubtedly recapitulating abuse that they themselves must have suffered.
But I can't. So, even though I tried to retire this phrase from my lexicon, I'm feeling quite emotional today. Thus, I hope they die in a fire.
Edit: Please do NOT post any comments here with examples of animal abuse that you've witnessed or come across or read about. I am not in an emotional place where I can deal with reading it. Not today. Indulge me in this display of entitlement for the next twenty-four hours - I'm sure I'll have my skin thickened back up by tomorrow.