Thoughts from the ammo line

Ammo Grrrll is sure about it: YOU BET IT’S WEIRD! She writes:

So a young Japanese man has fulfilled his lifelong dream of becoming a Collie. He spent the equivalent of $13,000 for a life-size Collie costume. In it, he can walk on all fours and be led on a leash. Seriously. If the poor kid liked being on a leash, instead of shelling out the $13,000, he could have just married a leftist feminist. Sometimes, those Mean Girls even come with a nice designer handbag in which to store your dangly bits.

Have you ever been around one of these tyrants to see how they speak to and treat the sad men in their lives? It’s mortifying. Joe and I knew one who became the ex-wife of a friend of ours. Joe can be a Merry Prankster and he delighted in torturing her when we were together by asking me to make him a sammich. Actual steam would come out of her ears…especially when he sent it back to have the crusts cut off. Good times, good times.

Anyway, the Japanese guy said in an interview that he was afraid of telling his friends and relatives about the Collie caper lest they find him “weird.” Weirdness is not much prized in Japan. A popular saying, as I understand it, is The nail that sticks up is the one that gets pounded down. Turning yourself into a dog is definitely one big flippin’ up-stickin’ nail.

It really was a very nice Collie costume, judging by the pictures. But, yes, it’s weird, kid! Own it! If it ISN’T “weird” to walk as a dog on a leash then why do we even have the WORD “weird”? Walking upright was not just a boon for chiropractors, but a YUGE step forward for humanity. You can look it up! Why not cut off your opposable thumbs while you’re at it?

One thing we know for sure is that unless you’re a sled dog or a shepherd, earning a living as a dog is problematic. (I would pay good money to watch one of these loons pull a sled…hopefully, with Lizzo and all The View gals on board.)

I know when I wore Golden Retriever costume to my job as a secretary at IBM in 1967 that the right-wing, election-denying “cano-phobes” claimed it was not only weird but interfered mightily with my typing skills. Oh, sure, I could increase the speed with four paws. But the ACCURACY fell off to a dismaying degree!! “Susan, do you expect us to send this out?”: “Deeeee#33333%*rrrr Siiiiirrrrrr: Qe#ttttttt? BLiyvvvv!”

“I told you Susan is my dead name. Call me, Duke.”

And talk about sexual harassment! They felt they could just pet me without even asking, even with my obvious Working Dog sign. I resigned to pursue an alternate path as a waitress, but people were very upset when their BLT had slobber on it from being carried in my mouth. Tips were terrible!

I am shocked to discover just how COMMON the desire to live life as an animal is among young men who would have profited much from a stint in the Marine Corps. During a major shooting war. Is it fleeing from the horrific responsibility of working, let alone supporting a wife and children? Is it mass psychosis? Is it just a race to the bottom?

Apparently, there is a pretty major trend with people wanting to be a “furry.” (See? They even have a cutesie name for the phenomenon.) The Japanese guy can be called “Lassie” to his heart’s content. In the series they were all called Lassie, even the boy dogs, though it must have involved some righteous “tucking.” He can probably pay someone to use a pooper-scooper as he strolls about. Eventually, perhaps he can learn to fetch a stick or rescue Timmy, a cute but cretinous child who falls down the well with some regularity.

So I am as tolerant as the next person, Boy Howdy! But, I just don’t want to be forced to pretend that there is anything “normal” about this. I have enough on my plate pretending that men can have babies and tampons are necessary in the men’s room.

I know one woman who has had a LOT of surgery to turn herself into “Barbie.”. That is at LEAST as weird as being a doggie. I consider Barbie herself and her silly Dream House to be “ultra-weird,” but that’s probably just me. I think she’s a multi-gazillion dollar franchise, so it’s possible my opinion could be an outlier for those assigned as female.

Ah, for a return to the comforting conformity of the 1950’s whwn you hardly had to do anything out of the ordinary to be considered “eccentric”! Go read an old TV Guide for a description of a typical sitcom plotline: “Harold grows a mustache!” Hilarity ensues. That wacky Harold! What WILL he do next?

One Andy Griffith show I remember to this day had Andy being invited to THREE different meals in one day and – are you sitting down? – at every one he was served Spaghetti with Oregano! Yes, oregano, a spice so exotic it was worth a special mention. Sheesh. Mama had, maybe, 12 spices of suitable Midwestern blandness – ginger, chili powder, cinnamon, nutmeg. No saffron or Turmeric — but one of them for dang sure was oregano.

Remember in college that kid who desperately wanted to stand out from the crowd? He wasn’t good-looking enough, or smart enough, or athletic enough, or funny enough or even kind enough to get noticed. So he took to smoking Gauloise cigarettes and wearing a beret? Now, AT MINIMUM, he would have to declare himself a non-binary vegan with blue hair and Comanche ancestry, who has ADHD, bulimia or at least hypoglycemia, which had a moment a couple of decades ago in hypochondriac circles.

So weirdness has been steadily ratcheting upwards. Yeah, I know. Us Geezer-Americans can look at old photos of our bell bottoms and flip hairdos and leisure suits and disco dresses and maybe be a little embarrassed to point fingers. But we never had “Bell Bottom Story Hour for Toddlers.”

I see Rachel Levine, Woman of the Year/Admiral of the Fleet, Sam “Samsonite” Brinton, and a host of others and I just want to say, “Oh, fellas, quit trying so hard. You aren’t cool. You aren’t even INTERESTING. It’s all just unserious, puerile, and silly. You will be remembered, not for the mythical “courage” everyone is always going on about, but for being ridiculous. And that’s your BEST option. Wait until this generation of mutilated children wakes up from its fever dream fad and discovers that their cowardly parents, lunatic teachers, and greedy doctors encouraged them to submit to permanent chemical and surgical castration. There’s going to be a heckuva butcher’s bill to pay. And I can say with my head held high: “I didn’t do it. I opposed it at every turn.”

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