BeerBlog

heres a letter i wrote to some asshat that lives within my building.

Dear shitty animal owner,

I have been treated better on the owl(late night) buses, bars, and cities I never lived which are filled with derelicts, drunks, crack heads, addicts and junkies than I have been treated in my own neighborhood / building. As I got home tonight a poodle with a cape or dog dress was barking at me while I rode my skateboard down the street. When I came to our building, and stopped skating, the dog recognized I was okay. The dog even listed to my command, “sit” and sat. With dismay to his owner, an elderly woman which was very uptight and insecure about me giving her poodle the command to sit began harassing me. The dog complied with my request, yet the woman was very upset with my interaction. The elderly woman was complaining that I should not address her poodle, that had complied with my request and seemed like a good dog, with a shitty, bitchy owner. Fuck her life, her dog wanted to interact with me. she has a bias against me, a problem, which was out of fucking line. I may be young, sassy, and drunk but I have a loving connection to animals.

Her dog was afraid or psyched to hear my skateboard on the pavement giving a recreational bark. We both have permission to share the street, yet the dog was interested, and the lady was awfully displeased.

Fuck these folks with their nonsensory attitudes towards people/skateboarders/youth that look stretchy, weather we are a different color or creed. Ignorance surrounds us. Even as San Franciscans and neighbors can not get along while each other. Even the hated is being genuine and nice, evoking conversation. In the tenderloin, hunters point, western addition, soma, financial district people are being treated as inferior humans. Our sense of community is neglected on sight by discriminating age, sex, and class. We cannot be dealt with in a civil manner.

Well, fuck you old lady, you were once young. You have a decent animal. Are you are afraid that your animal has thoughts and feeling of its own? That your dog may or may not enjoy your stagnant company? Your poodle has not been exposed to racism, class-ism, or any misanthropy of any kind. As far as I know your dog hates you, but only accepts you as its slave master, waiting to break free from your reigns of suppressive, submission lifestyle. The barks he makes may be a rebel cries for a release from your shitty stronghold. You (theowner) are so concerned, afraid of other people interacting with your possession, the poodle. That you have lost touch with reality. Lost touch with what is it is to be alive. You have lost touch with human interaction. Maybe you were afraid of a young man telling you truths, or even telling your dog to sit or shut up, when your possession which is a dog wanted to be pet by someone filled with life, or someone that is alive, not living vicariously through this animal as a substitute child or to be loved one. If you really loved your dog, you would let him/her interact with people that aren’t have-way into their grave.

Your lack of life doesn’t give you the right to take from another species. I eat meat. I don’t give a fuck about animals that are meant to be food, if that’s their purpose. They can be nutritious. Your poodle is a toy breed. A manufactured fluffy, mean spirited, nincompoop of a dog. But you can also be nutritious, and I will gladly eat your cooked corpse. I related to your shitty dog, and he responded.(to what you felt was a shitty person me) He responded to the foreign sound of my skateboard on the ground in a bark, what you saw was anger. Later your dog let me dominate him by asking a request to sit and let me pet sed creature.

Fuck you, you bitter ass old woman. I am a human being, your dog, has more integrity, know-how, social skills, than you do. You can be angry with me that I gave your animal positive reinforcement with affection and gratitude. Your dog may have experienced more love in our one minute than you have in your sorry, lifeless, loveless life.

Sincerely,

A peer that lives in your building,

Peter Robeck. #107