I'M GOING TO WRITE ABOUT MY DOG

I'm going to write about my dog because no one else follows me around like him.  No one on this dying planet follows any one around like my dog follows me.  Maybe that's a problem. Loyalty - maybe it's dead, maybe it's not.  The way things have been going, I half-heartedly hope it's dead.   Change happens when loyalty to the status quo, to tradition, to the past dies. Such blind loyalty is far, far worse than treacherous feats of mutiny and rebellion.  Sadly, blind loyalty is what we have right now.  Blindly loyal to the chumps running this place. To the corruption. To the manipulation. To the cancer. To it all.  There are people willing to rebel, willing to rise to the mutinous occasion but none with the hard-nosed, fanatical earnestness that my dog shows when he follows me around.  His jaw won't close properly so his tongue perpetually hangs from the side of his mouth. He snores and his nose is drier than your... ***. And he smells. Oh, Lord he smells of awful, disgusting things. He's gluttonous in his eating habits, naive in his endless wanderings. He watches tv like a child and is entirely untrusting of horses.  His favorite foods are oranges and bananas.  He's regularly tricked into lying under the warm sun for hours - never once, though, has he been burned.  He doesn't know or care what I do. He just knows that he likes me so he follows.  He'll follow until the day his heart stops.  He's passionate, more so than any human I've met.  A true artist.  He is the kind of person* we need right now - because he's true and....well, he's Murph.   And anyone Murph doesn't trust, I don't trust.   I'm going to start following Murph.