Sunday, August 27, 2006

Why Granny, what big, piercing, betrayal-fuelled and hatred-filled eyes you have!

Hasn’t the wolf received a bad ol’ wrap from Man over the years? For starters, and I’m sure this hasn’t helped his plight all that much, we teach our children that wolves are all Big and Bad! OK, I’m willing to concede that if the wolf which led a starring role in all those fairy stories was actually Big and Bad, then I guess the name was somewhat deserved, but surely it wasn’t the same wolf in every story? If that was the case, why not call him the Big, Bad, Well-travelled, Foreign-looking, Not-from-‘round-here Wolf, ‘cause if he was the very same wolf, he would have been hot-footing it all over medieval Europe in order to catch up with Red Riding Hood in Belgium, Hans in Munich, the Three Little Pigs in Oxfordshire … the list goes on.

And to be honest, were the deeds of the Big, Bad, Well-travelled, Foreign-looking, Not-from-‘round-here Wolf as “bad” as the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen make out? Wasn’t Farmer McDonald, the owner of the Three Little Pigs, just ticked-off because the wolf, in trying to devour the tender little porkers, was doing him out of an anticipated Christmas dinner of roast pork, smoked bacon and pickled trotters?

And cross-dressing aside, I’ve no doubt that the Big, Bad, Well-travelled, Foreign-looking, Not-from-‘round-here Wolf’s devouring of Granny, rather than being viewed as a tragic massacre, would have earned him the respect and gratitude of Belgium’s political right as a successful model for reducing the Belgian social security budget! Hardly a hangable offence (on the contrary, he’d be national hero in George W’s USA!).

The more I dwell upon it, the clarity of just how much of a fickle bunch we humans are is startling. We might be great advocates for “Dogs are Man’s best friend” and all that gaff, but judging by what we teach out kids from fairy stories, it’s evident that that friendship is conditional; valid only while Rex is hanging on the end of a leash.

For instance, one of the most popular fashion accessories with which to be seen strolling along Melbourne’s trendier designer shopping districts at the moment is a well-groomed Alaskan Malamute – more or less a wolf, if ever I’ve seen one. As a self-proclaimed metro-sexual Donkey, I fully understand and condone the need to accessorize, but each evening, these very same shoppers have the gall to read their kids bedtime stories (often in the presence of a tethered Fido) condemning the exploits of some “evil” dog who’s really just trying to find a home or a feed … yes, that’s right, just trying to survive in the xenophobic countryside of medieval Europe!

It is we humans that are the not-so-nice ones. Look at Shackleton and his near disastrous exploration of Antarctica. Their dogs (again, very closely related to wolves), dragged those dirty, smelly, pommy bastards across the freezing pack-ice for the better part of eight months, and what did they get in return when the going got a bit tough? That’s right, they got to share a spot on a plate with some Surprise Peas and a blob of Deb! Try as I might, I fail to see how those selfless canines had been all that Big and Bad!

And what happens when we lose a baby in the jungle, hey? Is that baby rescued and raised by monkeys, or elephants, or gazelles, or dear, or giraffes? No! Without fail, that baby is rescued and raised by wolves! All these other animals are too selfish and self-absorbed to help another (and if you ask me, I reckon Bambi’s mother got what was coming, the selfish old Bag!), but wolves, fiercely loyal and believing man when he bangs-on about life-long friendship, do their bit.

And what do they get for holding their end up? A starring role in anti-canine propaganda and persecution to the point of being chased down like dogs (ah-ha, that expression is all the evidence you need!). I have a bit of a theory that, far from being “stolen and eaten”, little Azaria was saved by a very clever and caring dingo (again a close relative of the wolf) who rightly surmised from their dressing her in a lemon-coloured matinee jacket, that she was heading for a life of pain at the hands of mentally unstable, religiously fanatical parents. But instead of being praised for his good service, he and his kind were hunted down and killed at the hands of their indignant “best friends” … Man!

Well, it can’t last! Even the most lowly self-esteemed girlfriend won’t put up with an abusive relationship for ever! So, Man, next time you send Butch out to the freezing dog-house at night before you get all cosy under the doona inside your centrally-heated bedroom, take a last peep through the curtains into the yard, and mark well the piercing, betrayal-fuelled hatred in your “best friend’s” eyes. That might be the only warning you’ll ever receive before you get what’s coming.

"Oooh yer Cool, Man, Coooooool!" Sure, this Cat might be Bad, but in a hip, cool way! Picture: Google Images.

1 comment:

murph said...

You are funny hee haw man.

Here's one for you from the mouths of babes, when my 11 yr old was only 3, I was reading her the story of little red riding hood, and she said something like "But Mummy, wouldn't da bib bab woof look diffwent to Gwanma? how come little wed widing hood didn't know?" Like Duh!

As for a dob of "Deb"...I make the best creamiest yummiest mashed potato ever!....yet the other day we bought a BBQ chook, and some frozen peas, and I thought I don't have time to do the mash. So I made some Deb and drowned it with gravy, just like at KFC. The little darlings loved it! Not sure if that's good on the time saving side of things, or bad for the nutrient side of things.

Are there any nutrients in potatoes, maybe not? Maybe that's why us Irish are so dumb...hee haw.

As for baby Azaria, I only wish she had been raised by a pack of dingos, or the aboriginies, or anything but the fate that I believe was hers.