Bitter Old Lady
Simon heard this woman say the other day as she toured through Bracciano’s charming centro storico, admiring all that is medieval: “It’s because people feed them. It’s such a horrible habit.” She was talking about the cats, their numbers, their plentitude. The following is my response.
Love is a horrible habit, it is humans’ worst boon. That we have been given capacities to feel beyond ourselves, the desire to give and to share, to see all things as worthy of the most basic of care is the curse of our species. We would be much happier with rampant war, you’re right bitter lady. We should all carry guns and blow each other’s heads off instead of shaking hands.
Love is disgusting, is how I interpret you, bitter old lady. Humans are obviously the Supreme Species and we should exterminate all the rest by a slow and painful starvation. We should start with the protozoans in the pond, worms are next, which means your cadaver isn’t going into the ground old lady, it’s going up to heaven where your perfect body belongs. And why are you feeding the plants? Cut off their water, cut off their oxygen, rip out their roots. Plants! What a horrible habit that we, the Supreme, have continued to feed them the lesser, the unworthy. All else should remain on the brink of the abyss of death; skeletons and disease are better in the streets.
What a horrible habit is love!
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