It Is Your Life. It Is Your Lawn
In the morning, any morning, every morning, when I walk into the kitchen to prepare the coffee my favorite cat, Jenny, comes in at a sprint from wherever she happens to be, and she shouts at me. I don’t mind this at all and am partially responsible for her behavior. Often early in the morning, half awake, I would not want to open cans before I had coffee and instead just put a small handful of treats (Temptations, catnip flavor) in her bowl. She quickly turned this into an early morning ritual. Now I am very careful to never run out of her preferred pre-breakfast snack. One morning I opened the drawer and found the little tub of treats empty, and moved right into the canned cat food. Jenny looked at me and the disappointment was written on her face. “You had one job,” she said wordlessly. “I ask one thing of you and this is what I get?” Jenny is an unusual name for a cat. She got the name because my sister wanted to imitate Forrest Gump and say, “I know what love is, Jen-ny.”
Staying well stocked with treats is now important to me and this is my point. We shape our own lives and we choose what is important and what is not. Not the talking heads on the television. Not the friends and acquaintances on social media. Not the powers in Washington DC. We decide, and we decide only for ourselves.
I have a close friend who is dead serious about his lawn, He knows the biology of the root system and the proper scheduling of feedings, watering, seeding, and treatment. He understands the grass varietals, proper mowing, and pests as well as many golf course groundskeepers. No one made him take this on. It is a passion all his own and he is justifiably proud when people drive by his place and wonder what arcane magic keeps his lawn so perfect. I am not like this at all. If the grass is green and the mower isn’t hurling rocks at the house it is good enough by me. I don’t resent my friend’s lawn, though, and he doesn’t judge mine.
Currently, it seems like we are experiencing a national mental health crisis. According to the American Psychological Association, The New York Times, and the CDC these are dark days for America’s youth, and (from what I see around me) the adults aren’t holding up so well, either. Much of this (I suspect) is the direct result of allowing a faceless group of grandiose busybodies to direct traffic on the avenue of Tolerance.
As I’ve said, my buddy loves his lawn and it is quite a lawn. I don’t care much about mine. We’re both fine with this. Now imagine a third party—some nonprofit NGO with an office somewhere and a powerful presence on social media—began spending gobs of money to shape public opinion. “Experts” suddenly began to appear claiming beautiful lawns caused birth defects in sub-Saharan Africa. Politicians and “scientists” began bemoaning the “cost” of having such a lawn and the “waste” of water they entail. The inequity of lawns and the pressure perfect lawns place upon the yard impaired.
At the same time, other NGOs, other politicians and “experts” took to the media claiming that unkempt lawns lead to urban decay and crime. Rusty 1979 Novas on cinder blocks spring like mushrooms on such lawns and it is just a matter of time before someone begins cooking meth in a trailer behind the house. Lawns must be maintained! There must be standards!
Government steps in, then, to determine what, exactly, constitutes a proper lawn. How much crabgrass is allowed, how many dandelions per square foot should be tolerable, and (because progress begins with the youth) to teach lawn care in the schools. There is no right to a lawn delineated in the Constitution. The Commerce clause gives government every authority to regulate lawn care.
In short order, we’d all begin to wake up worried about our yards. Do we meet community standards? Is it intolerant of me to water more than prescribed by community standards? Am I a rebel if I plant dandelions by choice? Will I be in violation if I don’t edge around the trees or spread mulch within ten inches of the curb?
Now apply this to...well, everything.
Sexuality. Income. Vacation destinations. Menus. Careers. Relationships. Toothpaste. Music. Fashion.
Disease. Vaccines. Masks.
Law enforcement. Carbon. Weather. Electric vehicles.
And that is where we are. It is now demanded that we care about everything. Literally to the degree that some people feel compelled to put signs in their yard declaring what the house believes. Experts have proclaimed that to not give a rat’s ass about race is racist. To not care about climate alarmism is denialism (a term conveniently borrowed from those who deny the Holocaust). To not care about recycling is to wish death upon every living thing. To not care about gender issues is to wish the murder of every gender confused teenager. You have to care. You will be forced to care. Not caring is murder.
So of course, people feel a little bit bonkers. That is a lot of weight to carry. It isn’t enough that my friend and I enjoy each other’s company. If the experts are to be believed it is also important that we agree on pretty much everything, including (and perhaps, mainly) things neither of us care about at all. Is the guy in a dress sporting prosthetic boobs and a skirt an actual woman? Might pointing out that he’s a guy wearing fake boobs cause suicides among teens with gender dysphoria? Will driving an SUV cause a typhoon in 2064? Will selling legal guns to stable adults cause more shootings among gangs in the inner cities? Do political opinions I do not agree with “endanger lives”? If we just shoot the breeze and play golf and don’t care at all? Well, then we are monsters.
This is nonsense and we’re all being sucked into a vortex of crazy. Do not go gently.
We currently live in the absolute best time to be a human in the history of our species. We turn the tap and get clean, even heated, water. We walk into any grocery store and have options previously unimaginable. Fresh bananas in New England? What sort of witchery is this? Want meat or fish? Sure. What type would you like? What cut would you prefer? We have air conditioning, dentistry, immediate access to every book ever printed, every film ever made, every song ever recorded. We can fly! We can zip around at speeds faster than any animal has ever been able to run. We have heat in the winter. If we break our bones they get set. If we contract a disease we can be treated. Holy Utopia, Batman! I have power tools!
And what do we do? We invent problems to drive ourselves crazy and worse, sub the job out to the most risk adverse among us to invent new problems to be crazy about. We let children with blue hair and granny glasses set the agenda. What could go wrong?
Well, for one, we could wind up with a society full of self-medicating nutjobs screaming at invisible people on our sidewalks, subways and airplanes. We could have generations of children afraid to go outside or meet strangers, who never climb a tree, find a swimming hole, or get scraped during a pick-up ball game. That could happen. We might end up with entire swathes of society incapable of simple gratitude, unaware that the lives they assume to be normal are anything but, who think a day without air conditioning and WiFi is akin to a famine or having your village savaged by an invading army. That might happen. People might forget something as simple as manners, and start worrying about their neighbor’s political opinions, religion, or lawn.
We don’t have to participate, whatever we are told. Fear is a product and it is sold wholesale, every day, from ever possible source. I can’t be forced to buy it. We can be told that Eurasia will always be at war with Eastasia and Ocenia, but we do not have to participate.
And that is the genuine source of freedom. Ignore the noise. Go ahead, be a monster. Do not annoy, and do not be annoyed.
And stay off the lawn. Well, not mine, because I don’t care about mine, but his. Stay off of his lawn, because it is his, and therefor none of your business.
Got to go buy some cat treats.
Peace.