The coyotes are howling long and loud outside my windows tonite. Out in the fields somewhere, not far away, stalking the muskrat and turkey and racoon and barn cat… if it weren’t for my vicious shepherd’s barking and howling I’m sure the mangy scavengers would be frolicking and humping right out there, in my front yard, all night long. There is no balancing system in effect when it comes to the coyotes. When turkeys were repopulated, they were apparently vaccinated with an ecstasy/viagara combo shot right before being let out of the cage; because they fucked like rabbits, and the population went crazy. Besides hunters, the only other predator for the turkey to be weary of was the coyote (and the occasional dog) … so the coyote population had a new, plentiful, easily attainable food source, one which could support a larger breeding population.
Every year they get a little louder,
the packs get a little bigger,
the fuckers get a little bit closer.
We need to release some bears.
Perhaps a few mountain lions.
Something to keep the turkeys and the coyotes and the deer under control!
Wild beasts spawning at rates of critical mass.
We need to halt this movement.
This revving up of the engines of nature.
It is quickly heading towards becoming a lush orgy of eating and fucking, and raw animalistic outbursts that reverberate more than Ten Years After…
…sounds a lot like this thing we call society…
So we need mountain lions, and anarchists, and bears.
Or perhaps we need to beat down, like a pub drunkard, that overwhelming urge to control and organize and classify and label and micromanage every fucking thing within the field of our filtered tunnel vision. We need to realize, we need to remember, that we really are no different than those mangy scavenging yelping beasts we call coyotes. I’m sure it is only through some loophole of our classification system that human and coyote are labelled as two different states of being.
Like the difference between being a bank robber and being the C.E.O. of Royal Bank.
We are all wild beasts, products of an ever changing world.
This thing has veered off into some overgrown field full of anthills, car parts, and slyly disguised peat bogs. It’s difficult to tell, looking back through the rearview mirror, which direction this booze cruise was initially headed in…