Here in America, we have a lot of rights written into the Constitution. You can own bear arms. Your church can speak to the media. The media can speak about church. You can bring your own snacks into the movies. It’s all in there.

There are also basic human rights that don’t always make it into the founding documents of any particular nation. Controlling your own body. Having a good quality of life. Bringing your own snacks into a hospital.
There’s one right that I don’t hear enough people talking about.

Here’s another one I never hear people talking about: The right to be left alone. The right to be completely ignored.

There once was a kid running home from school, trying to get to the safety and comfort of his home toilet. He realized he wouldn’t make it. A glowing orb granted him permission to shit on the ground.

When I was a kid, I always knew I wanted to be famous but I didn’t know what wanting that really meant. I realized now that I just wanted to be seen. 

America is a country of losers. It’s not and an insult. It’s and observation. I love America so don’t ask me to leave it. I simply observe that our great nation, The United States of America is made up of losers and the descendants of losers. 

I’ll admit, I used to love both Bill Cosby and Louis C. K. I truly thought they were good guys who were simply commenting on life’s foibles and the shortcomings of the human male.

And you wanted to get skinny, this year! How come that strong, construction worker at he oasis is carrying a whole bag of “Donette Gems” to his car and he’s not fat yet? 

Why come that is?

Anyway, look at yourself. Fat. Me too. You should see me. I tripped on my pecs this morning and here I lay on the bathroom floor, writing for Literate Ape (which takes absolutely no talent or energy; just the ability to ignore loved ones). 

Sometimes I feel like apologizing to dummies for their being dumb. And their dumbness leading to insecurity. And that their insecurity leads to a feeling of vulnerability which can be mistaken for a perception of being attacked.

I’m sorry you feel that way.

But then what happens when we have no more spare ducks to teach the foolish about love and responsibility? 

If you truly want to thank a soldier for their service, you can do it by changing your ways.

I watch birds fly and I wonder what that would be like. I see bees working together to get pollen and I wonder what that would be like. (By the way, I feel bad when I trap a fly in my car, because, you know, he’s never gonna find his way home.) I feel like I’d like to be a wolf or a bear. And, I also look at other groups of people, and I wonder what that would be like. That wondering about what it would be like to be them, often gives way to a jealousy about not being them.