THE PASSIVE SCENERY

Recently I realized that it's only a matter of time before there's a local shooting incident involving unpleasant Republicans whacked in mid-gibber and some poor shmo who has been insufficiently coopted into the present status-quo. Which favours perpetually indignant Karens and prosperous and repressivly-inclined rightwing dickwads. And you know something? If it involves Marinites, I really will not care.
I am ever less vested in their weal or woe.

The other day I saw a suburban frump going full ranting middle-class bitch on a convenience store clerk over misprinted prices on her off-brand cheap ciggies. She was infuriated, it was an outrage, why this is fraud, I'm coming in on Monday to talk to your manager!

The clerk is paid so outrageously little that he really doesn't care. The customers there are all hosebags, and the manager probably doesn't particularly care either. If your entire suburban community goes up in flames during the wildfires, that's probably fine with them too. You are all a bunch of sexual organs. Okay?

Or, to put that in terms Marinites can understand: Your aura has a dark cast to it, and you should have some more apple cider vinegar and manuka honey. And please purchase the all-organic natural and good for your spirituality brand of cigarettes instead.

Eight thirty in the morning when I'm on my way to work is far too early to see some middle-class bag of excrement losing her entitled shiznit on someone who just works there.
He doesn't give a damn'. I don't give a damn'. None of us give a damn'.
And sadly, none of us will ever be soccer moms.

So, as a counter-point, here are some landscapes.

Dusk in Northern Europe. Please imagine bovines in the distance.

Hillside in Northern California. There are bovines in the distance.

The North Coast. No bovines. They can't swim. There is no grass.

The presence, or absence, of bovines is limited purely by your imagination. If you think of it, they will be there. There are bovines all around us. Somewhere, in a direct line from where you are standing, there are bovines. It may be one mile. Or over one hundred miles, even one or two thousand. There are bovines literally everywhere.

Miserable cheese comes from unhappy cows, unhappy cows come from Mill Valley.



A day off. I'm safely in San Francisco. Where there are no cows.
I am consequently not thinking of cows at the moment.
Marin County kan me gestolen worden.



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