The Tar PitsWord... Posted by DaveH at July 31, 2013 11:23 PM
I've never seen the La Brea Tar Pits in LA. But, like a nude Marilyn Monroe, and the Sea of Tranquility, I've seen pictures, and find my opinions pretty well-formed. We have something similar in Georgia: Stucky, a dog trapped in a hollow log who became fossilized. In all instances, Pit, Marilyn, the Moon, Stucky, we are transfixed voyeurs.
My desire to see the Tar Pits is singularly loath. I feel no suffering for the mastodon, ground sloth, or sabre-toothed tiger. I just want to see them. For personal gratification. As a lap dancer once told me in the Mons Venus in Tampa, "Sorry, guy. It is what it is." And indeed, it is.
I feel like that stilt-legged llama. I came to lap the cooling waters once, twice, thrice. Now my front legs are enmeshed in tar, up to the withers. There's nothing for me but to be buggered by the passing beast, until my ultimate demise, and encapsulation in the tars. Welcome to America 2.0, the Obama Edition.
I didn't vote for the fellow. As much as that may surprise you. I speak now of the youths, the poor, and the terminally liberal. The American camels, the scimitar cats, that voted for Obama. You voted for a drink of cool water from a dangerous pit of despair. The water hole other animals eschewed. It was convenient, it smelled tasty. You could not resist. Some animals were drinking! Yes, they were. The dumb ones. The short-faced bears and bison. Now the tar has grabbed you.
What concerns me is not that the terminally retarded get trapped by the tar. Hell, that happens. What's troubling is the doubling down, that the beast that is buggering you is going to save you. Hell, he probably nudged you in, idiot. You are not his friend. You are his dinner.
Is there a moral to this story? I don't think so. Other than if you must drink from the dangerous tar water, drink sparingly, and move on. That was a temporary oasis. But it is dangerous. There is a far better stream, or pond, upon your journey. It just takes hustle. It takes work to get there. Get off your hind quarters and find it. Keep your paws out of the tar.
Perhaps that is a moral. But only to a creature that has the prescience to understand it. I do not think I speak to that cohort.