This guy George, his cat Freya and why I don’t want to know what is going on in Gaza…

I was perusing my Twitter feed this morning during my 72nd cup of clearance coffee when I began to notice a trend about some guy named George and his cat Freya who was hit by a car but not seriously injured.

‘Who is George and why is every ninth tweet in my feed about this fucking cat Freya? And what kind of name is Freya for a cat anyway?’ (Mind you my cat’s name is Gandalf the Grey and his predecessor was named Chunky Monkey Bumbles but I stand by those names. I was highly influenced in college by this T.S. Eliot poem  http://allpoetry.com/The-Naming-Of-Cats  and thoroughly believe in the validity behind Sir Eliot’s claims about naming cats.)

I was about to tweet about this idiot named George and his stupid cat but decided to Google and find out who this all important cat-owner actually was before making myself look like an idiot to my negligible number of followers. IT TOOK A TWEET ABOUT A CAT FOR ME TO FIND OUT WHO THE CHANCELLOR WAS. Now it’s not like this information makes any impact on my daily life but everyone knows who Obama is. Shit, they know the designer that made Michelle’s Inauguration outfits for fuck’s sake. But I had no remote inkling who the Chancellor was, much less the Prime Minister. The only reason I even KNOW he works with the PM is because the article I read mentioned 11 Downing street and I’ve watched ‘Love Actually’ more times than I care to admit.

I’ve always had an issue with my lack of knowledge of things, MOST things, pertaining to anything outside of my little bubble. Current events stress me out to the point of tears. It was nearly a year after I went to college and had to use public transportation that I was able to ride without fear of being blown up. I would spend hours crying because I thought it was so unfair I should be able to ride my bus wherever I needed to go without a legitimate fear of being taken out by some religious zealot suicide bomber. I could not fathom that it was fair kids my age lived with this fear every single fucking day. After a while, I stopped thinking about those things. I stopped reading articles my father sent me detailing the horror in the Middle East. I couldn’t get through my day if I was constantly aware of what was going on in the rest of the world.

So I shut it out.

That was over ten years ago. I still don’t like to hear it, read it, know that it exists. But my issue now is not so much with not knowing, but the fact that I quite possibly believe it doesn’t fucking matter IF I know. It doesn’t matter if I’m aware. Because does it? I read this blurb from my father last night: http://zenarchery.com/2014/08/everyone-i-know-is-brokenhearted/ . This guy Josh Ellis, according to my father, ” crawled inside my brain and put into words just about the whole enchilada of how I and many of us think and feel about this life…”. Take your time. Read the fucking thing then get back to me.

Oh, this is Gandalf. Not his Rainier. He feasts on the blood of Lil Bunny Foo Foo. In case you didn’t know, bunnies actually fucking scream. (Shudder)

 

danielle

 

Needless to say I was a bit freaked out about the suicidal undertone considering my dad said this guy crawled in his head. But I was more freaked out that I felt like Josh had a point and I was willing to agree with him. I felt even more freaked out when I realized I’d been thinking something similar for years but was afraid to own up to it because Americans are all stupid and don’t give a flying fuck about the rest of the world and are ignorant, obese, gun wielding mother fuckers. AND I AM CLEARLY NOT ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE.

So I’ve at times feigned interest in global events and tried to keep abreast of who is killing who because their god told them to and which corporation is destroying the earth one plastic waving kitty cat toy at a time. But I never really cared. I don’t really care. And I still feel like this makes me a bad person. I’m not.

I care about the people around me as best I can. I love them. I take care of them. I try to make their lives better when I get the chance. But I’m not donating to ASPCA regularly. I only read Al Jazeera a couple times a week. I still don’t know who the PM is. But I do know that some guy in America put a data device on his cat’s collar that picks up and records which neighbors of his has unsecure wi-fi he can hack.

My only deduction is that cats are the true gods of this world who are actually aliens that have taken over our planet and brainwashed us into thinking not only are they companions, but truly worthy of our adoration, time, and caring. I mean, one of them nearly gets hit by a car and my Twitter feed BLOWS UP. Case in point:  my little sister just instant messaged me ‘CATS FOREVERRRRRR! excuse me, i mean FUR-EVER’.

 

Meow.

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