Rules of Animal Cruelty

So I'm sitting here listening to "Embraceable You" over and over again. It ends, I press "left" and it starts over. Then it ends, and I press "left." And it starts over.

And I'm beginning to fall in love with Judy Garland. The first time, I felt nothing. Twinges of feelings crept in by the 5th. Now we're on the 12th time around or so, and I feel very vulnerable and emotional. I want Judy Garland to want me.

You see, I'm heading to San Francisco tomorrow to play the piano for a charity event. I had assumed I'd be playing background music. I figured I'd dabble around on the piano happily and do my thing, while checking out the crowd, reflecting on things in general, and looking around nervously for a potential 5-7 year old who might come over and begin banging on the high keys, which would in turn make me want to smash my face into the edge of the piano.

But then last week they called me and mentioned that it would be great if I could play "Embraceable You" to a singing duet. Unaware that people sang duets at charity events, I reluctantly consented. And since I play well by ear and read music terribly, I'm now here, cramming for the big moment, and hoping to spend the rest of my life with Judy.

Anyway, from San Francisco, I'm heading East for a week before returning (I'll be doing a CD signing at New England Mobile Book Fair in Newton, MA on Sunday from 2-4, if you'd like to come by and say hi). This left me wondering whether it was okay to not write anything on the blog this week. I'm still not sure. But then this whole Judy Garland situation happened, and I had to tell someone, and you're such a great listener, so here we are.

And while we're here, I'll also mention something that I think everyone's kind of confused about—

I'm pretty sure people aren't really sure which animals it's okay to be cruel to and which ones it's not.

We all agree that it's not cool to be cruel to people. But after that it gets hazy. And people react to the confusion by forming extreme opinions, arbitrarily. Here's what the rules currently say about cruelty towards various animals:

-Horses: Cruelty is pretty much okay. New York is swarming with horses in bondage, head strapped in and all. They have, through no will of their own, committed their lives to being workers and slaves. And this is okay with everyone. There's even the whole "glue factory" joke, and no one cares.

-Dogs: Definitely no cruelty allowed here. Exceptions include dogs that lead the blind around all day, and dogs in LA that are dressed up in sweaters, scarves, and sneakers by their hot owners.

And look at this guy: www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/europe/05/30/britain.man.dog.ap/index.html. This guy has gone completely insane because of the arbitrary cruel rules in society. And who can blame him?

-Cows: Some d-bags are concerned about cows, but basically no one cares. Bullfights, on the other hand, people get all worked up about.

-Ants: Cruelty is not only fine, it's hilarious. And I'm no exception. The ants in my ant farm have been living miserably in their own feces for weeks, and I think it's pretty funny.

-Whales: No cruelty whatsoever is allowed. And they take it a step further. People want to be so uncruel to whales that they end up being obsessed with uncruelty to whales. For example: http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/05/30/delta.whales.ap/index.html. This is an article about two "lost" humpback whales, who accidentally swam into a delta. Rescuers have toiled for days now trying to get the whales back to their normal habitat in the ocean. Then, today, the whales were missing, and were presumed to have found their own way back into the ocean. The rescuers are now out on a second rescue mission, to search for the whales, just to make sure they got back safely. There are horses lining Park Avenue, but we need rescue crews to make sure a couple of idiot whales get back to their natural habitat.

This is extreme, over-the-top uncruelty. There are thousands of homeless people all over the place, and there are rescue operations committing a ton of time, money and resources to two lost fish. They could have built a homeless shelter with the money they spent on these whales-- not to mention that these two whales are undoubtedly homeless. Only homeless whales would end up aimlessly wandering into a delta. The rescuers could save the two whales and the whales would just end up using it to buy alcohol anyway.

At the end of the article, one of the rescuers issued this gem: "If we learned anything about these two, it is that they will do what they do when they want to do it." Apparently this was taken as a surprise. But I'm not sure why— in my experience, fish tend to live life on their own terms.

We are too uncruel to whales.

-Other fish: Cruelty is fine here. Fishing's fine with everyone, right? You know those d-bags who take a picture of themselves beaming, holding up a rod in one hand and a 4-foot swordfish-guy in the other? And that's like big bragging rights or something? Why is that better than killing a whale? Or a dog?

-Mice: No one has ever uttered any form of protest against "lab mice." Nothing could possibly be more cruel. But the rules say that this is completely fine. Why? Because they're small? Why is size such an important factor in whether cruelty is okay? Because they're dumb? That can't be it, because they're smarter than whales—if they can find the cheese in the maze they could definitely find their way from the delta back to the ocean. Because it serves a crucial purpose for humans? I guess this is a pretty good reason. But still.

-Chickens: In an upset, it's not okay to be cruel to chickens. Everyone's all worked up about the inhumane conditions that mass-produced chickens live in.

-Snakes: There are 4,348 times more protests about fur coats than snake skin or leather products.

Given that A) this is a hot topic, and B) I have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure people will be chiming in. But to me, sitting here, listening to "Embraceable You," these rules seem to be arbitrarily chosen, lacking rational reason. Which cruelty is okay and which is not seems to be based on human emotion, not any rational moral basis—we get much more upset by cruelty towards bigger, smarter animals. They're not innately more entitled to be treated well than any other creature, but they're more like us, so we get emotional about them.

To be honest, I don't even know what point I'm making here, nor do I care to better elucidate my own thoughts. I just felt like talking. And there you were. My sweet, irreplaceable you.

Me and Buster

So I'm not sure about these recaps.

I'm fine posting them, but they're so f'ing long and their fat asses are taking up all the space in this blog. We've all been here for some time now, and we have a nice little thing going, and suddenly these recaps barge in like they own the place. I'm not going to stop them, I'm just saying.

Anyway, I was all poised to write a whole inane rant about people repeating things I say over the phone to the people in the room with them, but I'm going to put that on hold. Why? Because a topic far more pressing has suddenly presented itself.

The fact that I'm having a hard time writing at the moment, because I'm being distracted by a bug.

Yes, I'm sitting in my office, and I'm having trouble concentrating, because of a single bug. Indeed, this building—in addition to being the workplace of a tutoring company, a bathing suit designer, VH1's Best Week Ever, a graphic designer, a marketing agency, and the hot girl with the bandana down the hall who torments me so—seems to be the home of a local cricket.

And so, as the shrill chirp of a sole cricket hideously penetrates the airwaves, my ears, my mind, and my soul, I've called an audible. This entry will be about the situation at hand.

Now, a chorus of crickets chirping outside: kind of nice, and breaks up what would be an eerie silence. A single cricket chirping inside: really annoying.

And Buster's a devious little dude (I've named him Buster). He's out in the kitchen somewhere, but every time I walk in there, no matter how quiet I am, he stops chirping and I can't find him. Plus, if I do find him, I'll become frightened because crickets are underratedly scary-looking. All of this Jimeny/Mulan bullshit has made people forget that crickets are kind of scary-looking and look like small cockroaches. So, at the moment, the cricket is winning this battle of wits, and I'm left sitting here, helpless, distracted by a bug.

The worst part is that the reason he's distracting me is to attract a mate—a cricket's chirp is a mating call. Little Buster is trying to get laid. But the thing is, none of the lady crickets can hear him, because all the other crickets are outside, where crickets are supposed to be. So Buster's chirping in an empty kitchen and it's all for naught. That would be like me walking into an empty room and saying, "Hey, what's your name? You lookin mighty fine tonight." And then saying that again and again, even though no one's there. Buster's spitting all the game he can muster, but there's no one around except me, and frankly I'm not interested.

Part of me feels for Buster. Lord knows I've been there. But you have to be honest with yourself, and when something's not working—well, you gotta move on. There is good reason to believe, though, that he may remain in the kitchen chirping for quite some time. Unfortunately, Buster's going to have to learn the hard way that being a young, single guy in Los Angeles is not necessarily all it's cracked up to be.

And with that, I'll let you go. Once again, it'll just be me here.

Me and Buster.