Sunday, November 10, 2013

My Blessed Flyswatter

Or, in other words, things that bug me.

Imagine David, as a youth, facing up against Goliath with nothing but a sling and some stones (and a whole lot of faith), or in the secular world, that day when the Neanderthal Man has enough of running from the Smilodon and stands up to him with a blunt object or spear. As men, we have stood up against all the predators of this world with swords and arrows, even guns and such. Modern day Man has conquered all that would prey on him (except himself), so what then, is our weapon of choice to control pests that would invade our property? The answer is simple... the Tupperware light-green Flyswatter. The flyswatter is my gun, my big stick, my automatic rifle. And I'm an expert at it. The six-legged monsters I go after like some scene out of Starship Troopers... Cockroaches. You can't live in Georgia and not be intimately familiar with the pests. The weapons one uses to fight them when seen: a heavy book (unfortunately, my collection of Orson Scott Card short stories is always handy, and cleaned afterward), a can of bug spray or Dow Bathroom Cleaner, and my trusty flyswatter. How is it that man, having been the master of all that is laid out before him, is reduced from hunting the great predators of this world to six-legged nothings. And why should we feel the same surge of testosterone when killing them? Is this what we are reduced to?

 So I'm driving through my neighborhood, trying to get the speed up to reach escape velocity, to enter the real world, and I see, out beside the trash cans of my neighbors, a large, flat box with the unmistakable symbols of a flat screen TV. The box is waiting patiently for the garbage truck to haul it off. It might as well be a giant neon sign above the house, saying "Rob Me!" It's ridiculous to announce to the world what possessions you have and expect, in today's insane world, not to get it taken away from you. I've always joked that if a robber ever came into my house, they would laugh, go break into another house, and bring me an updated television. I know for sure they can't pick up the monster we have sitting in our living room, nor would they want to.

I hate Jeans. They are necessary when the weather gets cold, but I think there should be a rule that says that you can't wear them between Easter and Thanksgiving. I'll go get my sweatpants.

A small Pine tree growing out of the rock on Bradley Mtn. 
I will say that there is nothing more awe-inspiring in my little neck of the woods than the Arabian-Bradley-Panola Mtns. just to the west. Standing atop the rocks, looking out over the countryside, or walking the trails next to rippling streams and waterfalls, listening to the sounds of birds, the rushing of water, volleys of gunfire...


People go to these hills for a peaceful stroll through the woods, to bike the trails and get exercise. Since the parks are in Dekalb County, quite a few visitors come from that county or from Atlanta. The one thing that they don't want is to be subjected to the sounds of gunfire coming from the Dekalb County Police Gun Range. It's located on N. Goddard Road, right in the middle of the peaceful scenery. I swear, the deer in that area must here gunfire and be totally unconcerned. They'll never hear the one with their name on it. I wonder what other sites they considered, and what political games were played to keep it away from every other area in the county. hmmm....


Finally, every time I go on Facebook, I am inundated by stories where someone is outraged about some cause or injustice. Something that Obamacare has done to make our lives more difficult (which it does with increasing frequency), or the latest of insane protests from PETA as they try to uphold the rights of Rats living in Washington DC (the 4-legged variety, not the ones we elected). We have shocking stories thrown at us every day, each one designed to get our ire up. Television, the Internet, conservative Talk Radio... the things to make us angry grow each day. I want a T-shirt that says "I can't find anything to be Outraged about ... I Protest!!!" Let's make a folk-anti-protest anthem dealing with the scratchy surface of walls (no kidding... sometimes I don't even want to feel the walls... I want gloss!!) And in making it so easy to be momentarily outraged about any one thing, you cease to be legitimately angry about things that are important. And then you can be distracted while true injustices go by unnoticed and unpunished. There's no sense in fixing the economy if everyone is up in arms about the latest NFL scandal, or about the latest spying attributed to the NSA. Why don't we be happy for once? Find those things in life that we can be truly proud of, that make us smile and fill our insides with that warm fuzzy feeling, and hold on to those things. There's no reason to be upset when there are joys right under your nose, just waiting to be experienced. We just have to look past trivial things, and notice the importance of the world around us. Billy Joel said it best:

I believe I've passed the age
of Consciousness and Righteous Rage.
I found that just surviving was a noble fight.
I once believed in causes, too.
I had my pointless point of view,
and life went on no matter who was wrong or right.
 ~ "Angry Young Man"


1 comment:

  1. I hate that sound of gunfire too. Perhaps one day when Arabia Mountain is appreciated for the natural wonder that it is then the shooting range will have to be moved. I hope that one day Arabia Mountain will be protected like Panola Mountain, it needs a good conservation group to support it.