Best Laid Plans

I had a plan for this post.

I was going to write about how every once in a while my misanthropy starts to slip, and then something happens to remind me why I hate people. And I'm not talking about the magazine. I'm talking about the human race. I consider the human race to be pretty much the scourge of the universe.

I was going to reflect on the reasons why they'll never grant me membership in the Buddhist Club. It isn't enough that I try to honor and revere all living things (with the exception of humans), that I rescue spiders and brake for birds and conversate with wolves and ravens and genuflect whenever I see a photo of Richard Gere. To be admitted to the Buddhist Club one has to also have compassion for one's own species. One's own community, as they call it. If my community were a pack of wild dogs, it'd be a different matter. But as much as I might resemble a wild dog, I am, unfortunately, not one.

I planned to start with this headline from the Strib:

Researchers in Texas are combating the problem of fire ants by deploying

parasitic flies that turn the pesky insects into zombies whose heads fall off

and then muse about applying a similar approach to the problem of pesky humans, in particular pesky middle-schoolers. But it all came to naught.

Because my daughter put the kibosh on this week's post.

I was all set to inveigh against shitty parents who spawn shitty babies who grow up to be shitty teenagers who stick their shitty fingers into somebody else's backpack. I would've ranted on about loss of innocence and being violated and whether running over one particular shitty teenager with the Jeep some dark night might be a morally justifiable option. I'm never going to get my Buddhist card, anyway, so what the fuck.

Because we're pretty sure we know who did it. The assistant principal is pretty sure he knows who did it. The school liaison officer is pretty sure he knows who did it. But my daughter is absolutely sure she doesn't want me blogging about her iPod being stolen.

So I won't.