The Furry at War

I haven�t been updating because I�ve used this diary to try and entertain people and leave a somewhat interesting record of my life, but I haven�t felt like entertaining lately. I�ve been incredibly stressed out at work, which seems to get more hectic by the minute, and I hate what�s going on in the world today. But I haven�t wanted to litter my diary with my views on how much I despise the situation we�ve found ourselves in - on the brink of another war.

I�ve tossed aside my CD changer in the car for NPR talk radio, which usually has the effect of getting me entirely riled up and incredibly disappointed with our elected officials by the time I get to work. I was feeling much this same way a few mornings ago while listening to an intense debate about how the United States should be presented in junior high school civics courses. There�s the patriotic view that the U.S. is undoubtedly the best country on Earth and our freedom is guaranteed because we have undying love and allegiance for her. Then there is the realist view that the U.S. is a great country, but has made many mistakes that we should learn from and our freedom is guaranteed by our ability and willingness to question those in authority and keep them in check.

I�m listening to two uncharacteristically eloquent speakers debate this topic with wit and grace, and I was struck more by their behavior than their words. As the realist spoke to make another point, his voice changed slightly and moved up in pitch, and I expected to hear him clear his throat a little, but there was no sign that he intended to. At the end of his argument, the patriot began speaking, and his voice had changed, too, just slightly. I began to wonder if there was a hydrogen leak at the radio station or something, but I listened as they continued debating. As the argument became more heated, the voices became faster and higher, they traded points of discussion at lightning pace, and in the voices of Alvin and Simon the chipmunks. The pace quickened to ludicrous speed, and I began to chuckle. I pictured these two transforming from distinguished, full grown men in suits with beards to 6 inch tall animated chipmunks as they became more passionate about their views. Meanwhile, I could imagine a whole slew of NPR technicians screaming and scrambling around a room full of electrical equipment, flashing indicator lights, and reels of audio tape spinning so fast they�re about to burst into flames.

Once I started laughing, I couldn�t stop, even after the tape slowed and the voices had returned to normal. My mind had been set on a path of fantasy, where celebrity chipmunks get interviews with stern chipmunk reporters to spout their views about their walnut export industry to the neighboring country of squirrels. Some would prefer throwing the walnuts violently at their testy squirrel neighbors because they�re different and can�t be trusted. They can�t get themselves to understand it, but still there are some who would prefer inviting those feisty squirrels to dinner and serving them their walnuts slightly toasted. They�d serve on the china they reserve for only their most special guests, and talk through their differences with their honored guests, just like civilized chipmunks and squirrels should.