Weekend Thoughts

Hey there blog followers, 

It's been harder than usual for me to get hold of a computer or mobile device lately. 

For one thing, one of my owners is always out with her laptop (grrr). The other one stays home more but has been on a breaking-stuff rampage. 

If you're wondering what that has to do with me, well, lets just say, it affects me in every way. 

Why, you ask? Because whenever something breaks and there's a dog around, we get blamed. 

Dad drops the pasta bowl while sneaking in a few bites? It was the dog. 

Mom drops the baking sheet right out of the oven? It was me. 

Baby decides to poop on the floor? I did it. 

Never mind that I also help clean all this crap up WITH MY VERY OWN TONGUE. 

Anyway, long story short, I'm staying away from his stuff until his fight with gravity is over. 

In the meantime though, I've been listening to radio. NPR more specifically. (Don't get started on congress taking away their funding. I could bite them.)

So this morning they were interviewing this woman Lucy Walker about her documentary WASTELAND, I think it was called. Premiered at Sundance, yadda, yadda. Now, I haven't seen the film yet (just couldn't bring myself to use my owners' credit card to purchase it) and so this might be unfair but what's with the love affair that well-to-do white people have with poverty?

I mean, you should hear this woman wax poetic about how amazing these people who live in a dumpsters in Brazil are. Life has put them in the garbage and they just triumph and move forward and are happy. Gimme a break! There is nothing, let me repeat, nothing poetic about that kind of poverty. Believe me, I know. Don't want to turn this blog into a "poor me" rant but I was homeless for a large part of my childhood; my family was dirt poor for a long time and went without eating for days on end. You endure because you have to; not because you have some kind of revelation about the animal spirit triumphing or how not having possessions frees your mind. 

Just to be clear, this isn't a criticism of the humans living in the dumpster. You do what you gotta do, right?

I'm from Brooklyn.