Dog-fighting

Last night, I had to stay home and study instead of joining some friends for a game of Risk. That was too bad because I imagined that I would show up and play as a pacifist. That would have been a sensation.

Some people, maybe some of the girls, would have admired me and thought that I was clever. Some people would have scorned me. It's more than likely that I would have been invaded eventually. Maybe I would have been knocked out early, and somebody would have explained to me, "you see? That's the problem with your philosophy."

Or maybe that's the problem with *your* philosophy. Fighting for what you want. Trying to show the world that you are powerful enough. You can win, and you deserve the good things that you win.

Well, I don't *want* to do that. It makes no sense to me at all that I should live a life of endlessly doing what I don't want to do. I've never wanted to crush the bug. I want to save the bug. I've never wanted to overthrow my brother or sister. I want to cheer for them. We can see well enough what a monstrous thing it is to take a puppy, gentle and happy in spirit, and torment it with threats and fears to the point that it becomes an aggressive, and violent, and powerful fighter. This is, in fact, illegal in the United States because we love dogs. Why, then, do we not love ourselves?