I believe I could have curbed the criminal urge at the crucial moment, but one must painfully remember that a vein of unstability runs through me quite like some turbulent river; this cannot be overlooked; I have left this troublesome instability uncorrected to my folly and disgust; it will not be corrected by friendly, cheerful prayer either. It can only be corrected by dogged effort on my part. I cannot honorably or intimately pray to some charming, divine entity to step in and clean my mess up after me; the very prospect turns my stomach. I have been trying like hell since my arrival to leave a wide margin for human ill-will, fear, jealousy, and gnawing dislike of the commonplace. And as I watched the confused, matted-haired dog standing there on the awful elevated section of filthy interstate, still in it's "cheerful" green collar and fancy leash, squint into the propeller wind as it's entire family of five rose off the ground in a menacing dark green helicopter without him, and continued to stand there in the gut-wrentchingly unblinking eye of the video camera, and have it's little wagging tail dejectedly slow as the helicopter rose further and further and eventually disappeared out of frame and then have his tail stop all together and limply sink to the ground, understanding fully what the fuck had just happened,and that it would, most likely starve to death, all alone, in the stink and heat, I admit that I do not in my heart hold out unlimited hope for the human race as we know it today.
