Internment Camp, Here I Come!

My friend just shared something super scary with me in the form of this link:  Re-Education Camps .  Basically, according to this, people who may be less than patriotic, and outspoken about it, could be put in a camp, kind of like the Japanese Americans were during World War II.  I looked into it and it appears to be true.  So, I immediately thought, “I’m screwed.” At the risk of NSA catching wind of my very unpatriotic activities, I’m going to go ahead and share my anti-American ways with you all.

  1.  I hate the great outdoors. Americans love their camping and hiking and fishing and hunting, and all of that other Deep Woods Off BS. I hate it. I love air-conditioning and, in the winter, heating. I love indoor plumbing. I love furniture. I love comfort, and I love NOT being bitten by mosquitoes. I hate rain and I LOATHE being cold.  I don’t understand why there are outside venues for anything.  There should be glass buildings with climate control systems for outdoor events. Last summer, I ventured to outdoor activities.  I was stung by a wasp and ended up with cellulitis.  This required a 10-day course of antibiotics and all of the fun stomach stuff that goes along with that. Shortly after that, chiggers bit me. If you have never encountered chiggers, I don’t recommend it. I literally considered cutting my abdomen with a steak knife to stop the itch.  I got so desperate that I actually put nail polish on my stomach, a folk remedy, and it actually worked.  
  2. Dogs are not my favorite animals.  I’m not going to “run one over” like cat-hater woman would,or anything.  I would just rather not be around dogs. They are needy creatures, and I prefer independent beings, like cats and teenagers. Dog people love to say how unfriendly cats are, but I think that shows how needy they are, rather than how mean cats are.  I don’t like or need to be needed, which is why I have ONE child.
  3.  I’m not a lover of babies.  Now, again, as with dogs, I would never harm one. I always wave at them if they stare at me from their seats in grocery store carts or restaurant high chairs, but I will never beg to hold one or goo goo or ga ga over one.  If I had not been lucky enough to have my son, I would not have gone through fertility treatments or shed tears etc.  I would have been fine.  I love my son, and I loved him when he was a baby.  I also celebrate his growing independence. At 16, he can now use the bathroom alone, dress himself, and make himself a meal.  Of course, he’s been able to do these things for quite some time.  It’s not like he just now started going to the bathroom alone.  If my son has bothered to read this blog, he is now sufficiently embarrassed.  I have done my job. 
  4.  I hate Mountain Dew and beer, and I’m not talking about together.  I’m pretty sure I haven’t tasted Mountain Dew since before I went through puberty.  Yes, young people, it has been around that long. I think beer should be used as a repellant of some sort. It tastes like it smells, which I’m pretty sure is like urine, though I don’t have a frame of reference for this other than beer.
  5.  I think professional sports are a waste of everyone’s, time, money, and focus. Seriously, there is still war, famine, rape, physical abuse, poverty, and a host of other things on which to focus our money and attention.  Yet, we continue to have parades for teams who catch and throw balls.  They are heroes.  Really?  Let’s throw parades for fire fighters, paramedics, military people, doctors, nurses, teachers, or anyone else who works their behinds off to help people.  Better yet, let’s not have parades, another mindless activity.  Let’s take our parade money, and add it to our professional athlete salary money, and make sure that no one is hungry, homeless, or sick. 

 So, as you can see, I’m doomed.  I will likely be taken to a camp shortly.  I’m certain, after reading this, the authorities will be sure to make me sleep outside with screaming babies and needy dogs.  They will feed me a diet of Mountain Dew and beer and make me watch every professional sporting event possible. 

 Disclaimer:  I don’t really think I will be taken to an internment camp for not liking Mountain Dew and dogs.  I express my opinions in this blog, and I do that sarcastically.  While I am being honest, I’m not always being serious.  I will never argue with anyone over opinions.  You have yours; I have mine. 

5 thoughts on “Internment Camp, Here I Come!

  1. Love it Lisa! I prefer to ‘camp’ at a hotel with room service. Anything less than one with room service with those tiny salt and pepper shakers are roughing in the wilderness! Oh the flashbacks of knotty pine paneled motel rooms as a child! Truly it is a wonder we weren’t all eaten by …uh…bears? Or in reality a rogue mosquito who also checked into our cramped quarters. Goosebumps!

    1. Should have been “IS roughing it in the wilderness.” I hate it when I do that, especially when I bitch other people doing it all the time. What goes around comes around I guess.

  2. Lisa, you have the pulse of humanity… I too HATE beer and think urine is a fine analogy. My idea of camping is a 5 star Hyatt as far from the woods as possible. I love the woods in Winnie the Pooh and The Wind in the Willows… but I’ve been to the woods… Eeyore is not there nor is Mr. Toad!!!!! I like gnomes… their men want their women rubinesque and they live in old growth trees in the Black Forest. Unfortunately they are too far away and I am so big I’d squish them without seeing their cute little hobbity homes. I do complain about the loss of my world and the coming serfdom but I shall probably fall into line and face the coming Handmaid’s era like everyone else… or I shall be incinerated for being uppity and having an atypical history. Beagles in the grass alas.Another brilliant column my dear friend. A sharing I shall go!!!

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