It Was a Perfect World
I was eleven when I got two pet Guinea pigs. I named one Senator and the other Governor (I was taken by politics at an early age).
I just hated that I only had a cage to lock them up in, so I built, what was for them, at least in my child’s mind, a paradise.
I spent the day digging in the dirt in our back yard. I had become so filthy when I was done that my mother made me take off all my clothes at the back door, but I had built Guinea Pig Heaven: a monstrous hole, seven feet wide and almost two feet deep, complete with caves, little tunnels and old wooden shingle bridges.
I watched them for hours before going to bed, as they explored every passageway and ramp to make sure they could not escape, and they couldn’t. They couldn’t escape even in the middle of that night, when the neighbor’s cat arrived.
Unintended consequences can be horrific.
I do not imagine that there were many votes in the last election that were not well intentioned and hopeful that their results would make our world, if not paradise, at least better. But almost to a person, everyone I know, everyone I meet and talk to during my travels is upset.
It does not matter whether they be conservative or liberal: They all seem, “Mad as Hell and aren’t going to take it anymore.”