Buster’s wisdom
I woke up the other morning and decided I just couldn’t face the world that day.
Protests. Hate. Lies. COVID-19. Drivers who don’t use turn signals.
“It’s just too much,” I told my dog, Buster. “I just want to stay home and watch cartoons, except they don’t allow good cartoons anymore. I didn’t see anything wrong with Jerry mouse hitting Tom cat with a frying pan, did you?”
Buster cocked his head to one side, as dogs often do.
“Arf, arf,” he finally responded. Roughly translated that means, “I like treats in the morning.”
Buster doesn’t let too much bother him.
“Plus,” I told him, “I don’t think I have any clean socks. I didn’t do laundry even though I knew I needed to.
“I don’t know if I can take this.”
Buster cocked his head to the other side, which is what dogs sometimes do.
“Arf, arf, arf,” he said. Roughly translated that means, “No, seriously dude, I really do like treats in the morning. And, uh … I’m just curious, what exactly is ‘laundry?’”
But I did manage to get up and get myself sorted, make my morning coffee and sit down to read the news. Only to see where Tennessee is being lambasted for passing laws that, some say, are designed to hinder voting privileges in the state.
I think it has to do with absentee balloting, or at least the process of requesting a mail-in ballot. I think you need something like a doctor’s excuse or a note from you parents now. And maybe a neighbor has to swear on a Bible that you haven’t left your home since April. Something like that. I mean, if you feel you are a person at risk because of COVID-19 you should be able to fill out a mail-in ballot. That’s my thinking anyway, but what do I know? I don’t follow half the thought process and rationalizations many of our elected “leaders” do.
The other law is a little disconcerting. Apparently, you can be charged with a felony if you camp illegally on state property., And if you are convicted of a felony in Tennessee, then you are stripped of your right to vote.
A lot of civil rights leaders are up in arms about this because it is such a “blatant attempt” to take away a person’s right to vote. Apparently, it’s all a Republican ploy to stop people who feel disenfranchised, and are more likely to lean to the Democrat side of the aisle, from voting.
First off, if it’s illegal, don’t do it.
Secondly, if you don’t think it’s fair, let the courts sort it out. If you can sue somebody because they serve you hot coffee but don’t warn you with big enough letters the coffee is hot, then I’m sure you can sue because some bent politician tried to hinder your right to vote.
That’s why God invented lawyers.
And lastly, you have to be convicted of a felony. CONVICTED. So let’s say you are charged tomorrow for putting on your jammies and getting a big comfy pillow and sleeping on state property as a form of protest. It’ll be nine months before you ever get to a point of being convicted — if you are convicted. The November election will be over by then. I’m not saying it’s right or wrong. But right now, it is what it is.
I told this to Buster, explained to him my thought process on the whole thing.
“Aaaarf, aaaaarf,” he said. Roughly translated that means, “Why are you telling me this? What the heck do I care? I only vote for treats for Buster.”
So I got ready, came to work, trying so hard not to judge people who aren’t smart enough to use a turn signal. I heard all about the protests, heard the hate being spread, laughed at the lies being told, and decided if COVID-19 wants me, it can have me.
But I followed Buster’s advice — I got myself a treat for the day, a no-sugar-added, low-fat frozen yogurt. Not exactly health food, which made it seem like a really good treat.
And I remember Buster’s words to me as I left that morning: “Aaaaaaarf, arf, arf.”
Roughly translated that means, “Hang in there, have a treat, and, by all means, wash your hands a lot.”
