Death, Taxes and Earth Day

Fake tits are probably not the most revered form of feminine beauty. "Artificial" is an alternative to "natural." We look to nature for what's authentic, what fits "organically" into our ideals.

I'm no purist. I've had plenty of fun surrounded by silk flowers and gilded plastic. (And I got a fortune cookie!)

Meanwhile, I imagine that many in our chattering classes are offended by "The Donald" because of his flamboyant trumpery. "And my pussy hat was hand-knitted by a vegan sister out of organic wool dyed pink with sustainably grown beet root!" Bravo. (McResistance™ via #SorosMoney ...but honestly, bravo.)

Once someone has turned on a dime and, say, campaigned and "fixed" for a known phony proven to commit election fraud and other treasonous crimes, I don't value that first person's former reputation for integrity. Integrity to me is like an ecosystem. Even with a pile of CIA syringes in the middle, an ecosystem may function. Destroying our votes and selling a war with Russia based on lies and false flags, however, is irremediable pollution. I've come to think that Bernie Sanders' nostalgic blaming of corporations (and also his #blameRussia & #SyriaHoax) serve primarily to distract us from the deep-state mafia. Yet (just between you and me) his adherents cling to past glory as if they're humping a blowup doll. After endorsing rigged elections, Bernie creates the illusion that our votes will ever count. The current theater around him serves to rebuild his "street cred" for further use in the pink-color revolution. Bernie is "controlled opposition" and a toxic fraud.

Who am I to judge? Well, that's the thing.

I see your pink pussy hat and raise you a leopard print.

Leopard print isn't just for tacky wannabes. I see it everywhere as a reminder that I'm a wild beast.

Recall that I'm founding director of FangedWilds.org. I focus on apex predators. It keeps my eyes on the front of my head (so to speak). I don't glance nervously from side to side, worried I'll get eaten. Why be fodder?

Though the top predators in our environment proliferate unhindered, killing indiscriminately and then preening, I don't let their displays distract me from my own hunt. I stalk, seek their weaknesses, and then dog and harry them. When my body wearies, I can still play with thoughts of my prey. I'm nobody; I'm coyote-like at best. But I'm getting better at my hunt, bringing our ecosystem back into balance. Others can see and emulate my techniques.

Stalking readers wary of gore

 And in my own mind, I'm king of the jungle, paradoxically integrated into a reality beyond illusions.

Happy Tax Day! Happy Earth Day!

The author VC Bestor is  Director of the non-profit FangedWilds.org.
V.C Bestor on Twitter