The Unacceptable

 artist: Eric Drooker

Some things are unacceptable.  We all know this to be fact.  We do not ask the woman with the black eye and the broken nose to accept her husband's violence.  We do not ask the child with the lashes on their back and scissor cuts on their tongue to accept their mother's discipline.  We do not ask the man with a burning cross on his lawn to accept white supremacy.  We know these things to be violations of the very foundations of just and moral behavior, and we would never ask a victim of these violations to accept such actions.  There are no exceptions or caveats.  There are no justifications that can be given.

Some things are unacceptable.

When it comes to governing in a democracy, morality and justice become hotly debated topics.  The standard for acceptability isn't defined, therefore, by what violates those metrics, but instead becomes something else entirely.  What is unacceptable in a democracy is anything that makes it impossible for the democracy to function properly--anything that breaks the system of governance. 

You know where I'm going with this, right?

I do not agree with the new administration about the necessity for the wall.  I do not agree with their stance on abortion, or racial inequality, or LGBTQ issues.  I do not agree with their choice to discriminate against Muslims, or their decision to block refugees from our country.

I do not agree with these things, but they are issues of justice and morality.  They are--as much as I am loathe to admit it--up for debate.  I will fight for them each and every day if I must, but I will never claim that taking an opposing side from mine is breaking our system of governance.

What is killing us--what is dismantling our democracy before our very eyes--is our new administration's relationship with the truth.  Facts are not just being denied; they are being suppressed.  Our government is actively working to keep the population ill-informed.

How, I ask, are we expected to participate in the political process--and make no mistake, the participation of the population is the defining characteristic of a democracy--when steps are being taken to keep us from having the basic information necessary to make well informed decisions?

"Alternate facts" are not any kind of facts at all, and facts are what we, the people, require in order to sustain our democracy.

Science is a non-partisan, facts based discipline, and the findings of scientific agencies should not be subjected to political review before being published.

Intellectual freedom is the bedrock for the First Amendment, and an integral component of a functioning democracy.  We must be free to receive and disseminate ideas without restraint, or our system of governance will die.

This is not an issue of conservative vs progressive.  It is not an issue of Democrat vs Republican.  It is about the integrity of our democratic process, and it cannot be allowed to stand.  Not if we want a government of the people, for the people, and by the people.

Some things are unacceptable.

An Open Letter to My Dog, Now That He Has Passed On.

 A Bito

 

Dear Chimbasa,

I'm really not going to forgive you for this.

I mean, let's be honest, I've been pretty tolerant of your shenanigans over the years. Remember that time you were only a few months old, and we gave you all those rib bones from TGIF's, and you peed all over the porch you were so excited? I didn't even get mad. I just laughed my ass off at how silly you were. 

 

 The Buddy Puppy

And when you fell in the lake up the mountain, and I had to stick you in my sweater to keep you from dying of hypothermia and you got my shirt soaking wet and it was only 50 degrees outside and I almost froze trying to get you warm? I was totally cool about that.

 

Dog vs. Piñata

When you and Mishka dug a hole through the bed we just sighed and flipped it over. And when you dug ANOTHER HOLE through the OTHER SIDE we bought a new mattress and started locking you in the kitchen when we left. Okay, I admit, I got a little peeved when you dug up the kitchen linoleum, but I forgave you pretty easily, didn't I?

 

 Partners in Crime

Remember the Bito song of love? Remember how you sang it for almost four months straight the first time Mishka went into semi-heat? Did I complain about your vocal expressions of frustration? No I did not.

 

With your One True Love

 

I never got mad that you hated snow so much that sometimes you'd pee in the house rather than brave the out of doors.  

 

 Tropical dogs don't like winter

I reluctantly accepted that no, the trash was not always going to be off limits.  In fact, sometimes it was going to be all over the kitchen floor.

 On the plus side, we never had to clean up crumbs.

When Elliot was born, you got a little mad at me, I think, and I even handled that.  I waited patiently until you realized the new puppy was going to let you lick yogurt off his hands, and that he might be a fine addition to the pack.

 

 

When Charlotte was born, and you and Callie decided you loved the diaper pail, I handled that utterly disgusting situation with grace and aplomb. 

 

Making a giant mess takes a lot out of a dog.

 

Remember how every seat in the house was yours? 

 

 No matter how ridiculous.

Remember how you used to eat my underwear?

I guess I did kinda get revenge for that.

I lost track of the number of times you decided to go on walkabout.  I've even lost track of the number of times we almost didn't get you back, because you were so damn adorable some other family wanted to keep you.  Really, you were almost kidnapped an absurd number of times.  There was even that one time you were ACTUALLY KIDNAPPED.  Maybe you should have tried being a little less cute.  Still, I didn't blame you.

 

 Seriously.  You looked like a stuffed animal.

How many times have I cleaned up your various accidents in the house?  No idea.  I just know that I never held it against you for long.

 

 The father coaches the son on techniques for destruction.

When you had your stroke, that was a big deal for me.  But I forgave you.  You were getting old, after all.  Things were bound to happen.

 

Has a stroke.  Still guards the baby.

 

When you started having unexplained night pains, and waking up yelping in your sleep, it scared the crap out of me, but I didn't get mad.  

 

You made up your sleep during the day.

When they told me you had kidney disease--the same thing that had taken Mishka--I finally thought you were a goner for sure.  But we put you on drugs and you perked right up and made it through your next birthday.

 

 Keeping Vigil.

Fourteen.  That's a pretty impressive age for a dog.

 

 You can look it up on the internet.

 

But now, now you've done it.  You've finally gone, and I'm not really sure I can forgive you for that.  It's not that I'm so much angry, you understand, as utterly heartbroken.  Since the day I first brought you home, until the moment I stroked your ears while you died, I have loved your tiny, stinky, dignant little face.  You brought me love, and joy, and--yes--more than a few disgusting messes, but it was more than worth it.

 

 Oh, my Bito

 

Okay.  Okay.  We all know I'm full of it.  I'm totally going to forgive you.

 

But I will miss you an awful lot.

 

Good-bye, my Bito.  See you when it's my turn.  Don't eat all the bacon before I get there.