Both Sides of the Argument in Two Parts

Pig Fight



I can’t believe we’re arguing over this! Conventional wisdom usually dictates two arguments to support its age-old rationale regarding why one should never fight with a pig. The first reason proclaims that if you fight with a pig you’re going to get dirty. The second one decrees that the pig’s going to be the only one who really enjoys it. But I have a third reason which I’d love to share with you. Are you ready for it? Okay, here it is. For me, the most clearly sane line of logic is that you never want to fight a pig because those who observe you doing so will be doing so looking down upon you. I hope in sharing these insights that I haven’t been a boar (pun intended). Because although I’d hate to hog all of your time I still have a drift of daft ditties and thoughts I’d care to contribute for consideration on this subject. 

Within our virtual world, which is now comprised more and more with every passing day of virtual realities, I’ve discovered that the world’s vastest virtual pig farm is the social media platforms called Twitter and Facebook. Not every creature inhabiting the sties of these virtual barnyards named Facebook or Twitter is a pig. Like real barnyards, there are many different and diverse beings that inhabit the abundant acreage.

The social media pigs, in my humble opinion, are the ones that squander their time there posting incendiary political postulations. And the most boorish (now will you forgive me for that previously pointed out pun?) of the breed are the ones who repeatedly copy and paste links and articles from questionable sources that, coincidentally enough, align evenly with either their hard-right or hard-left myopic views. Left or right, those of us who don’t march in lockstep with their beliefs are stuck in the middle of—now how should I say this?—well, with pigs who want nothing more than to start a fight with you. Remember, that’s what a true pig enjoys and revels in; the fight.

I must confess that I’m frequently tempted to engage mano-a-mano in a debate with an occasional pig when I read some of the posts on the wall of my Twitter or Facebook homepages. Especially those when throwing around words and terms where they clearly lack the full understanding of their meanings. If I compiled a list of some of these misunderstood dog-whistle words meant to push your buttons, pull your trigger, and incite division, included would be: Marxist, communist, socialist, fascist, liberal, Nazi, rightwing (or rightie), and leftwing (or leftie). So what am I to do?

The answer is I take a deep breath, and then recite the three earlier cited reasons for why you should never fight with a pig. By the time I get to that third one about how you’ll only be looked down upon by observers, I’m ready to move on to the next comment on my Facebook homepage. Not fighting a pig is the only way to win while still staying clean and not providing the pig with the pleasure of bringing you down in the mud to their level. So beware of what you sow (the verb), sow (the noun). We’re hip to your tricks and know it’s almost always best to simply ignore the pigs trying to trip you up in their political pigpen on social media.

Searching For Something We Don’t Want To Find

We’re all looking for something, and oftentimes we even search for something we don’t really want to find. Usually when we look back at the way we’ve lived our lives we dredge up memories that may have been best left forgotten. I know I do. Is that something you do too, my introspective readers? Inadvertently torture and beat yourselves up with what you would’ve, could’ve, or should’ve done in your past? Haunt yourselves with all the real, and/or imagined, crimes you’ve committed? Those trespasses against others who may, or may not, have trespassed against you? Failed at being all you can be and something better than what you were? Me? Well, I’m guilty as charged, your honor.

What’s haunted me for several decades now is a reoccurring nightmare. The nightmare is always pretty much the same. In this dream, I return home to find the three cats I once had, all of whom died many years ago, in a sorry state. During my absence no one had cared, fed, or provided water for them. They’re gaunt and emaciated. Their eyes are full of confusion and reproach. The discovery is very upsetting and I then usually awake extremely distressed and filled with sorrow. Most times after wakening up from that nightmare I’m unable to return to sleep, so I lie awake tossing and turning until daybreak, riddled with regret.

I don’t need to search for the meaning of my nightmares about my former feline friends. I’ll leave the deeper interpretations for any Freudian or Jungian analysts who may be reading this story. I know what it means to me. The three cats are the embodiment of all of those whom I feel I’ve failed and neglected during the span of my lifetime. You know, my family, lovers, friends, colleagues, and of course, even past pets. All the ruptures in my many ruined relationships, the promises I wouldn’t keep, trust that I violated and couldn’t reciprocate, and often all the love I shouldn’t have so easily betrayed. I know exactly what it means.

That dream is my mind’s way of going back in time, petitioning for another chance to correct the many errors I made in my interactions with others. A way of compartmentalizing those feelings relating to the pain I feel I’m responsible for bestowing upon all I left capsized, swamped, and sinking in my wake. To rectify what is no longer redeemable or rectifiable because of the illogical laws which govern time and space. To grasp the brittle straw of a second shot and attempt to make amends for the million-and-one mistakes I’ve made. 

Yes, yes, yes… Yes, I know what it means. That once again, and yet again, I was simply searching for something I didn’t want to find. There are so many things in life we wish we could change. But while you can’t change the petrified past or alter the unforeseeable future, you can seize the opportunity afforded by the present to accept responsibility for your own behavior. But what do I know? Probably a lot less than I think I do. Some may say I’m talking trash now. And to them, I’d remind; this garbage truck departed that dump a long, long time ago.