Solving "problems" by whacking the shit out of 'em?

Or, "Where the fuck's my shovel?"

Dada's distracted by strange recent messages appearing on his computer monitor's screen since defragging the PC's hard drive yesterday. While still functional (it's just not as functional as before I defragged), he is also depressed by recent news.

"Recent news" is not a reference to the business-as-usual crap coming from our corrupted economic system, its whores (our D.C. representatives), their pimps (corporate America and other special interests), and the media who support the rotting corpse of the American empire.

No, it's a kid's summer camp counselor beating the shit out of an opossum as shocked teens watched (and learned how man deals with confrontations with nature?).

Or it's a local soldier inflicting punishment upon his two dogs recently adopted from a local animal shelter by beating them to death. He's since been reduced in rank and released with a less than honorable discharge.

Or watching a 75 year old woman who, feeling threatened by "Bambi" -- a very young deer discovered on the edge of her property -- which dared "mad dog" her when their stares at one another collided in mid-air, leaving the elderly woman fearing for her life in an attack she felt the fawn might next undertake.

OK, OK, a 75 year old woman may be demented or insecure enough to feel her mutilation and/or imminent death from a yearling was such that, in her panic, it caused her to bludgeon the poor dear deer repeatedly until smashing in its youthfully soft skull with a shovel. And, who knows?, the G.I. may be suffering from PTSD as a result of what he's been through, or something he's seen. (But are these excusable?)

And what about the damn camp counselor teaching our teenagers how to deal with a disgusting opossum and her young seeking food by whacking the shit out of them with an axe?

But enough about the thin veneer that justifies man destroying threats from Nature of which he denies himself being an integral part of. "Let's kill the beasts before they mutilate or eat us!"

I have more pressing, less depressing problems. Like an aging PC that's threatening my very daily electronic way of life. Where the fuck's my axe?