We ‘ad another skunk in our barn, mate. Ain’t never lived in a place where skunks were such a bleedin’ problem like ‘ere. Back in me childhood, we dealt with rats and possums, but never skunks. So when me daughter spotted one wanderin’ about in the barn, I was clueless. I said, “Just shut the door and leave it be.”
Wow, was I wrong. That skunk went on to kill two of me kids’ kittens that very night. Me lack of experience led to some mighty misconceptions. I thought they were ‘armless critters, except for their stink, like that docile Pepé Le Pew.
Once we found out they were predators, we ‘ad to protect our pets and ourselves. So ‘ere I am with a skunk in a trap, still not knowin’ what to do. I reckon I’ll get sprayed if I even look at the thing funny. And the dog’s still in there with that
I shared me dilemma with a few neighbors at church, and sure enough, an old-timer from the area says, “Just pick it up and carry it out. As long as it’s lookin’ at ya, it won’t spray ya.” Turns out, a tarp wouldn’t make a difference, and they can’t really spray from inside a trap ’cause they do some sort of headstand. I figured I’d trust the experienced bloke over me own inexperienced imagination. And guess what? It worked out just fine.
So ‘ere I am in the barn, holdin’ a blue tarp. I brought the tarp ’cause me imagination didn’t trust someone else’s experience. Slowly, I approached the skunk, and it just looked at me. I chucked the tarp on top of it and ran back. A bit silly, but eventually I convinced meself to grab the handle through the tarp and carry it out of the barn. It all went as the bloke said it would. And then it hit me, mate. Trustin’ someone else’s opinion can be a right ‘ard thing.
Even when you’re inexperienced and they’re experienced. It’s funny, ain’t it? Turns out I could handle a skunk like I used to handle a snarly old possum back in the day. I wasted so much worry over some nuclear reaction from the backside of this little monster. Even though I’d dealt with similar animals before, there was this strong urge to expect somethin’ completely different from this one, even after bein’ told they ain’t all that different.
I’ve met loads of city folk who lose their minds when their fancy schmancy designer pets go through a heat cycle like it’s the end of the world. I thought I knew a thing or two about country life, but I was dead wrong. Just a few years in the city, and I was nearly too timid to handle a medium-sized milk goat, let alone shoo away a steer from me kids. Imagine dealin’ with a full-sized bull!
All them “Horse Whisperer” movies and bein’ separated from the realities of this life, it’s like a disease that makes you imagine a world where animals have deep thoughts about the universe. I turned into a bloomin yuppie, I tell ya!
Me first horse purchase was ‘alf luck and ‘alf downright dangerous. Watchin’ them touchy-feely dramas about horse farms and that exaggerated series about Native Americans made me think I could convince that buckin’ grey to change his ways and have a jolly good time together. Ever ‘eard the saying, “green + green = black and blue”? Let’s just say it turned out true, literally. Just as I was makin’ the grand connection with the horse spirit, me good ol’ mutt decided to take a bite of horse hocks. That’s when I realized me irrational Avatar-inspired fantasy was a load of rubbish. How could I be so inexperienced? I grew up ridin’ horses!
The thing is, it don’t take long to lose touch with reality and let fantasy take over when reality ain’t reinforced. Me memories of ridin’ are all ’bout the best bits, like that one time I managed to gallop on our old pony or those few occasions when I was “allowed” to ride solo on our mighty Tennessee Walker, coaxin’ a good canter out of ‘im up a hill. Turns out, I grew up ridin’ some tough ol’ steeds. I ‘ad a lot to learn before goin’ off to college and gettin’ all urbanized.
The profound truth is that somethin’ ’bout pavement, concrete, climate control, designer pets, and sitcoms messes with our minds and fills ’em with irrational fantasies. Fantasies of perfect Utopias where lions cuddle with lambs and even trees know what we’re thinkin’. Urbanization leads to delusion. And those delusions lead to awful decisions based on complete nonsense. Absurdities like callin’ radical hateful terrorists “misunderstood.” Insanity like thinkin’, “I know what’s best for you.” Destructive ideologies sprout from inexperience, just like me encounter with that skunk.
With enough pavement and concrete, people start believin’ that children don’t need discipline ’cause it ain’t fun. Then, when their kids end up with all sorts of mental and emotional problems, they double down, sayin’, “Oh, they’re such deep thinkers.” And we all know where that leads, don’t we? It’s either messed-up relationships, even more messed-up kids than themselves, or just plain narcissistic sociopathy. Self-harm, harm to others. Fantasies ’bout blowin’ up the White House, rants ’bout menstrual cycles. Raging feminism, men ‘atin’, women usin’… total unhinged insanity, all ’cause some people get completely disconnected from reality. They live in a chemically induced haze, mate. Pick your poison—nicotine, caffeine, alcohol, drugs. Love steak, ‘ate butchers. It’s a circus of cognitive dissonance fueled by willful ignorance.
No, me dog ain’t me “friend.” She’s a pack animal, and ‘er instincts are driven by pack rules. If she ever thought I was weaker than ‘er, she’d tear me family apart without thinkin’ twice.
No, me horse don’t feel love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. ‘E’s a herd animal. ‘E feels ‘unger and fear. Through repetition, we’ve developed predictable responses that bring mutual benefit, but ‘e ain’t ponderin’ the cosmos, for sure.
And no, a terrorist who’s dedicated their life to prayin’ for and plannin’ our destruction don’t deserve the “benefit of the doubt.” They’re children of the devil, servin’ the devil’s whims. I’ll ‘ope and pray for their salvation, but there are real risks, and those who defend against those risks are the rational ones.
All this contemplation came from a moment starin’ at a skunk in a cage, wonderin’ if me imagination matched up with reality. That moment made me question why I’d put me unfounded fantasies ahead of someone else’s well-founded experience. It was a momentary glimpse into what it means to be a liberal progressive.
The powerful delusion of establishin’ me own whim as the rule of law for everyone else (for their own good, of course!) seems to be a deeply rooted characteristic of our sinful nature. “Since I’ve decided that dogs are people, you must decide the same, otherwise you’re intolerant.” Sound familiar?
Lastly, but certainly not least, the news and even science ‘ave stooped to the same level. The power that comes from peddlin’ fantasies to large audiences and the lucrative funding it brings ‘as proven too temptin’. It’s corrupted what should’ve been reliable sources of accurate information. Instead, studies that don’t follow the narrative get blacklisted by editors (usually just one per publication) under the guise of “peer review.” We’ve talked ’bout that in detail already, more than a year ago, before #fakenews became as officially recognized as it is today.
In conclusion, remember that skunk? That fella who told me what ‘e knew? ‘E popped by soon after we got the skunk out of the barn. ‘E says with a bit of a country accent, “I see ya got ‘im outta there.” I reply, “Yup, it all went just as you said.” ‘E pauses, then says, “Is that the trap ya used?” And I say, “Yup.” ‘E chuckles and says, “Well, I didn’t know it was that big. That skunk could’ve sprayed ya from that.”
Hilarious, innit?