Do you think a cow really knows it’s a cow?
I mean come on, could you live with yourself if you knew your only purposes in life were to either make meat, make milk, and/or win honorable mention at the local 4-H Club fair.
Do you think a 4-H Clubber really knows s/he is a 4-H Clubber? (for the same reasons)
Seriously, it kinda makes you think about what you are, but don’t know you are, but maybe everyone else knows you are. Follow?
I have a pretty high opinion of myself.
On some degree I think I’m cool, but what am I really?
You know when you try to be cool, like really try, you end up making a huge ass of yourself.
This happens to me all the time – surprise.
Like the other day I was sitting here at my computer at The Reveille office, next to a quite attractive news writer.
We were talking about restaurants, and it turns out she works at an up-scale place over in mid-city where I have never been.
Still, when she asked me if I had ever eaten there, of course I said, “yes.”
“Oh yeah,” she said, “what did you have?”
“Ah … ah … I had a pasta something or other.”
“Really,” she replied, “how was it?”
“Yeah, it was OK.”
“That’s odd, we don’t serve pasta … it’s a mexican restaurant.”
Like I said, I have a pretty high opinion of myself.
My coolness spans further than just my sex life (or lack thereof).
Yes, I am an all around “cool” guy; a renaissance man if you will – and by renaissance I mean I wear a cod piece under my pants.
What I’m really trying to get at is mirrors don’t lie, and if we were just grazing in some pasture somewhere with no way to see our reflection we’d all probably be a lot better off – like cows.
Cows have it made.
Think about it, the fatter the better, when the gates open you’re gettin’ some, and one day you repay the favor to the guy who’s been feeding you all these years.
But maybe the greatest thing about being a cow: you never have to know just how pathetic you are.
And you know what? The grass isn’t greener on the other side, but even if it is you don’t care … cause you’re a cow, and cows don’t care.
Maybe the 4-H Clubbers have it figured out after all; if you can’t be a cow, might as well hang around them as much as possible.
Then again maybe they are 4-H Clubbers.