On Being Trained To The Leash

                                    Subtitled:

On Trying to Teach An Old Dog New Tricks

I have the good fortune, in my move out of Southern California, to have landed up in a smallish town in Utah where there is more or less instant access to walks in nature.  Especially at my advanced age,(1) I like to get out and about fairly regularly, in order to stay fairly regularly, and keep the old ticker turning over, with a little help from the operator of this vehicle.  

My walks have two speeds, literally: sporadically brisk, when I am as well walking the family dog, who likes to keep a good pace when not stopping abruptly and smelling all manner of things along our way, and a steady gentle pace designed to get me further out in my walk into nature and back without having a cardiac arrest.  At my age.  Did I tell you - oh.  Yes.  I did.  I sometimes get a bit muddled about these things.  But then, I am -  

but I said that, didn’t I.  

So.  Now. Where was I…oh yes: my walks.  Further out into nature.  When I am not walking the dog.  Which occurs when the lady of the house decides to take him out for a walk with her, when she has the time, in her busy life, to engage in that, er, pursuit.  But not to get distracted, in this particular blog by going into that whole subject in itself.  What I would like, in this particular blog, is to get into - stay in - the subject of

even being able to get out and about.  Given the quarantine business, because of the - man-made - ’novel coronavirus’.  With its particularly lethal features.  Or so we have been told.   By our Mainstream Media.  And official governmental authorities.  Who, in this state, have decreed a comparatively liberal quarantine factor, of no more than ten people in a group.  But outside of which, there is no other decree.  About what we citizens - of the United States.  Ot this free country.  -

We are still living in the United States; aren’t we??  At my age, I sometime lose track of such things.  But yes -  here we are.  And here I am, in it.  Where people are out and about.  Fishing, or in their swimsuits, enjoying the sunny day, around the nearby small reservoir, which is as far as I take the dog when we are out together for our exercise.  But today I had been relieved of that (not-really) chore, and so could take a longer walk, up behind that little reservoir and further up the canyon to a larger reservoir, and on beyond it; usually to the 3-mile mark, where there is a small parking lot and roofed picnic table, which I am accustomed to siting at for a bit, before turning around and heading back for home.  With walkers and joggers and bikers, and even family units on their two-wheeled scooters, passing by.  With smiles and hellos along the way. 

I think the word that I am searching for (I forget such things, sometimes, these days, you might have guessed) is: bucolic.

But that is not the way it is, these days, in some towns and cities and states, in - America.  That I read about in the alt media.  Where some of those authorities are acting like -

what’s that word?  Oh yes:

like Bolsheviks 

in decreeing the likes of

no jogging.  No even hiking.  Let alone biking.  No two people playing a game of tennis.  No some guy simply shooting hoops in public.  Alone.  Because 

there, it is not just a ten-person-limit procedure to beat the virus.  Or a Stay-at-Home policy that allows people to go out and about, just not to overdo it.  But outright Lockdown.

‘You will do as I say’ (says such a mayor.  Which, so far, have all been of the Democrat variety of persons.  And many of whom, I have happened to notice, are of the female persuasion.(2)  Interesting, that.  Feeling their power, here at the end of patriarchy???  But to continue).  ‘Or I will fine you, and in addition, put you in jail.’

Well.  At least there, they won’t be any bother to you, or anybody else, will they, Mayor.  

At least, not until they get organized.  

And throw your butt out of office.

At the earliest opportunity.

Before you get too lodged. 

In your seat of power.

Of Power Over Others.

Or POO for short.

Which your whole agenda is about to come to. 

Or my name isn’t - 

isn’t…

…gotta do something about this brain of mine.  It just doesn’t function the way it used to. 

When I lived in the United States of America.


P.S. And I realize that there could be another reason for such draconian measures, in keeping the citizenry off the streets.  Having to do, rather, with the White Hats.  In anticipating the likes of a TET Offensive.  With our homegrown Bolsheviks, and the drug cartel and MS-13 assassination-team and Islamic terrorist-cell Fourth Column troops in place in the country, readying to unleash their mayhem, and the Good Guys needing to have the citizenry as much out of the way of their retaliation to the takeover attempt as possible.  The Dark-side forces readying for their Big Blow.  With the help of their fiends - er, friends on the outside, also readying, for a pincer movement.  On this country.
     On my country.  To which Ordo ab Chao Operation I have but one thing to say:
     How.  Dare.  You.
                     

—

footnotes:

(1) When people ask me my age, already marveling at how young I look for what they have been told roughly is my age, I tell them “You’d hardly know that I was 135, would you”.  We old-timers like to make fun of things like that.  Hey - at our age, what else do we have in the way of fun in our lives?

   For the record, I am 85.  Or as the very young like to share more specifically, ‘I am 85 and three-quarters’.  Or thereabouts.  How much thereabouts is my business.  What’s yours?

   (There’s that sometimes acerbic-wit streak again.

   (It comes out at the darnedest moments.

   (Now, where was I???)   

(2) At least biologically.  But we don’t want to get into the hot water of being accused of being a bigot, now do we.  No, sir.  - I mean, no - …  Well, you know what I mean….

   Oh dear.  Things are so complicated, these days…  Instead of having a mind-clearing walk, I think I’l just lie down and have a nice nap.  And perhaps a cup of tea to go with it.  I’m sure that that will make me feel better.

   Not.