I made a comment yesterday at the Dog House about labels. Why do we need to label everything? Someone once told me that in nature, stereotyping or labeling is necessary to survival. Prey animals must be capable of identifying predators quickly for the purpose of self preservation. I would assume that is accomplished by scent, sight and sound. Humans use those three senses in the same manner as well. We use sight and smell to identify fire, so we know to protect ourselves from being burned. Sometimes we can hear the crackle of the flames, so we are using sound as well. If we encounter a skunk, we know it because we see and smell the skunk, and if we didn't hear the warning that skunks give by stomping their feet on the ground, others will know we've encountered a skunk by the odor we are carrying. So it would probably be necessary to label someone with that type of scent about them...stinky.

Murderers, rapists and child molesters also need to be labeled as such. This too is for preservation. We'd like our streets to be safe for it's citizens. Prompt apprehension, and incarceration of someone who commits these types of crimes is a method of preserving our safety. Even if they are not found immediately, knowledge that this type of element exists in our community makes us more careful. We take steps to try to prevent this person from finding another victim. We do this by becoming more cautious in our behavior, we lock doors and windows, we change our habits in a manner that hopefully will keep us out of harms way. We do this because a danger has been identified in our midst. Labeling for the purpose of identifying danger is necessary for survival, but why must we be labeling everything?

People of African-American descent are black. Oprah is "black". Barack Obama is "black". The Reverend Jesse Jackson is "black". Eddie Murphy is "black". We identify this "blackness" by sight. We label it "black", and then what? What action must I take next to insure my survival? Stereotyping is necessary to survival, we are stereotyping this "blackness" I assume to insure our survival. The survival instinct is usually to fight or flee. So, in order to insure my survival I must fight with these people, or run from them. Well, excuse me, NONE of these PEOPLE are actually "black". They all have skintones that are varying shades of brown. None of them are in any way compromising my ability to survive, so I assume we've stereotyped them for another purpose which has little to do with our survival. It does, however, give us a target for hate.

Gay is another label. It used to have a much different meaning. It used to mean lively, merry or bright. It actually still does, but is seldom used in that manner. Now we use it to define people whose sexual preference is for members of their own gender. Which is not to say that these people are not lively, merry or bright, we are all, at times, lively merry or bright. Which makes us all gay. I have a family member who is gay. In what way does she compromise my survival? In what way is her being gay a danger to my existence? Unfortunately in far too many cases it is used to perpetuate hate. It is used to separate "those" people from the rest of us. It is used as an excuse for violence, the same way "black" is used.

I live in a trailer park. This of course means that I am trailer park trash. I was watching a program during which the commentator referred to someone of questionable morals as "trailer park trash". Stereotyping at it's finest. I found it terribly amusing on some level and then it angered me. That particular label became very popular during the Bill Clinton/Paula Jones debacle. He, while campaigning, subjected her to sexual harassment. She became the "trailer park trash" when she pursued a court case. Paula Jones became stereotyped as trailer park trash when she was the victim of someone with questionable morals. Unfortunately, he had the power and she wasn't a chaste, pure as the driven snow, virgin. Ever since then I have lived with the knowledge that I am trailer park trash. Now that I know that stereotyping is a way to insure survival, it's probably a good thing that I'm not black. Otherwise, since we've all ready established that we're all gay, I'd be "black, gay trailer park trash" which would make me a triple threat to your survival. Oh....wait....maybe I'd still need to carry a gun?

There was a time in my life when I thought I knew it all. At about the age of 12 I began to see how much smarter I was than my parents were. It was really frustrating for me to attempt to educate them in the area of child rearing. After all, I had a life I could be living if it wasn't for their antiquated notion of what was and what wasn't a child. What kind of parent forced their child to clean their bedroom on Saturday morning, before they were allowed to go shopping with friends? What kind of parent forced their child to do homework before they were allowed to talk for hours on the phone with friends? What kind of parent forced their child to do dishes after dinner? What kind of parent didn't allow their child to participate with friends at school dances, or parties, simply because they were grounded? Weren't rules made to be broken? What kind of parent refused to allow something and when asked for a reason said simply "because I said so"? How dared they just because they paid the bills?

Apparently I knew what I was talking about because by the 1970's numerous Child Psychologists were advancing the theory that I had been raised wrong. Allowances were not supposed to be given to a child as a compensation for chores completed, they were to be given simply because the child deserves it. Now there's a validation of my idea that I could live with. Spankings didn't teach a child anything except that if you were bigger you could be the bully. Kids were supposed to be allowed to voice their opinions when parents made a rule. No more was the phrase "because I said so" acceptable. Just because parents were paying for everything didn't mean they could set rules that their child didn't like. Lets not be damaging their childs psyche by setting rules and trying to teach them to be disciplined. While parents were at it, they just might as well let the kids decide what they will and won't do. Marie Antoinette said it best... "Let them eat cake."

There it was, all the proof I needed. I was the product of "bad parenting". I knew it, I just knew it. I didn't participate in the drug scene that became popular in the late 60's because I just knew my parents would find out and either they would kill me or at least be terribly disappointed in me. I wasn't promiscuous for the same reason. I knew right from wrong, no gray areas there, and I knew that consequences would occur if I chose unwisely. I knew that as an adult I had to work for a living, whether or not I liked the idea, I knew I had to do it. I learned respect for other peoples property and for other people. I learned that I wasn't always going to like certain situations in my life, but only I had the power to make changes, if I was willing to work at it. I knew that if I made a mistake it was my mistake, not someone elses. I learned that I wasn't the only person on earth driving on the highway and that I had to watch out for others. I learned to help out when needed, not just sit there and expect others to help me.

When I was bullied at school, or disgruntled with job and coworkers, I didn't get a gun and shoot people. If I see someone stuck in the snow, I go and offer help if I can, and I don't expect them to pay me. I don't erupt in rage when I am standing in a checkout line and someone ahead of me has a problem and is delaying my ability to check out. Traffic delays never make me late for appointments, because I don't wait until the last minute to leave the house and then drive like a maniac to get there on time. I'm not rude, or thoughtless, I care about people and animals. My idea of a good time is not one that causes injury to myself or others. I don't cheat people, or steal from them. I don't always trust everyone, because life has taught me that you can't always, but I am always willing to extend the benefit of a doubt.

I don't buy things I can't afford and then not pay bills on time. I would love to be a millionaire, but I'm not and I'm just as happy with that because I have everything that I need. I don't believe in buying expensive designer sneakers for growing kids, if they want them, they need to help pay the bill. I don't think that just because a 16 year old has his license that I need to buy him a car, or give him access to mine. You can work at 16, do so, save your money and buy your own. While you're at it, pay your own insurance. I don't believe that any child of mine who gets in trouble with the law should cause me to mortgage my house to make bail. You did the crime, pay your debt to society.

I was raised to be a productive member of society, and to understand that society expects that there be a certain standard of behavior. That society expects one to understand that it's not all about me, it should be all about us. Not just what benefits me, but what benefits my neighborhood, my town or city and ultimately my world. Kids don't understand that concept unless their taught. They don't get it without hard work and sacrifice on the part of the parent. I believe that children should be "seen and not heard". That teaches them that the world is not there to benefit them. The sun does not rise and set in the seat of their pants. It teaches them that adults make the decisions because we make the money that supports them, and that decisions we make are designed to keep them safe as well as teach them right from wrong. We earned the right to make the rules, we paid our dues. We had parents that taught us the right things. I had parents that made decisions and when asked why responded "because I said so" and I turned out to be a pretty decent human being. I wonder how that happened, after all, I'm a product of "bad parenting".

Many of our area businesses have sold out of snow shovels, and are unable to get more shipped. I don't really understand this because people appear to be buying them, but I'm not sure they are using them.
Barn roofs, garage roofs and two businesses in our area are suffering from collapsed roof problems. One hundred inches of snow is compressing down and becoming heavier. Phone lines are being torn down, and sundry other snow related accidents are occuring.

Apparently there's a generation of adults who have forgotten how to deal with winter. They don't see that certain things should be their responsibility. Shoveling sidewalks, clearing snow away from fire hydrants, removing snow from their roofs so that damaging amounts of ice don't form appears to be someone elses responsibility.

The news channels locally are receiving complaints from residents that the post office isn't delivering their mail. The crew went out and filmed the fact that absolutely no snow has been shoveled anywhere in front of their houses, and you can't find the front steps. In one case there is this icicle that is next to the front steps that starts at the roof of this two story house and ends in the snow below the window.

The kids locally have been out of school all week, yet I haven't seen any enterprising snow shovelers out making money shoveling snow. We are living in a world of computers and technological marvels that I never dreamed of when I was a teen, or even a young adult for that matter. It now appears that entire generations are overqualified to operate simple things like snowshovels.

I suppose that Mother Nature put it there and at some point she'll take it away. In the meantime I think people should stop complaining that the mail carriers won't deliver, and that their kids have been stuck inside all week because of so much snow. I wonder what happened to all those snow shovels?

I am typing this, or I should say starting to type this just after the incident happened. Which makes it Wednesday evening about 8:30 pm. This is a blood and guts story so if you are squeamish, you might want to consider stopping right here. Since I'm not big on blood and guts stories, I will not spend a tremendous amount of time with descriptive prose. If you do read farther it won't be a lengthy slash and stab horror story. More of a somewhat messy swipe and bounce. Besides, it takes me forever to type these things with a splint on.

It's odd in a way because just as it happened I received a comment on my post dealing with my slow computer and protecting Hubby's business records. It was a second comment from John the Squabbler, who prior to this kiddingly said that he protected his business records with a three headed dog. I had responded by mentioning my cat and her claws. Shortly thereafter I heard the sounds of cat playing behind me. She has assorted balls she likes to noisily chase and the plastic ring of the gallon milk jug is another favorite. Both of which she keeps under the refrigerator. Don't ask, I don't know. Possibly to keep me from stealing them.

My computer is located in my work room which actually used to be my dining room. We like to eat in front of the TV watching the news. The kitchen and it's refrigerator is but a few feet behind me. It is also the room my cat likes to play in the best. Actually, she likes to play wherever I am, for reasons known only to her and possibly the Supreme Cat Deity. Assuming there is one. As usual, she plays with wild abandon for a few minutes and then moves over next to me, places her "toy" on the floor and mews to get my attention. I, of course, look down to see, not one of her usual toys but.......a mouse.

I then do the usual "eek" thing... loudly, and Hubby comes running. Unfortunately my "eek" galvanized the half dead little verminous beastie into trying to make a run for it. The escape route apparently is behind the stove. Poor thing didn't make it. One swipe of a claw extended paw caught it in the underbelly, tossed it up into the air and off the front of my formerly clean white refrigerator. I waited until Hubby disposed of the remains before going to get my super duper heavy black neoprene gloves. While I was waiting I decided to read the comment from John the Squabbler in response to my protective cat comment. He was kindly offering me a "ferocious mouse" to protect Hubby's business records. I declined, both Bashful and I have had enough excitement for a bit. Well, she enjoys these things more than I do so maybe she hasn't had enough. I sure have.

The mess has been cleaned up and the area bleached to within an inch of it's life. The cat has been calmed down and praised for being such an excellent huntress. I'm satisfied that I will sleep safely in my bed tonight because Bashful is on guard. I will also, in the future, look to see what Bashful is playing with when she is behind me like that. It won't do any good, but at least it will allow me to climb into a chair to keep the mouse from running across my bare feet.