So, last weekend I'm half-dozing on the loveseat … ruminating the merits of getting up off my lard-a** and doing something worthwhile.
Elected to remain prone, but couldn’t ignore the disembodied voice from across the room - National Geographic channel; something about rhino relocation in Africa. (Z-z-z-z-z-z.)
Suddenly, jolted out of my stupor. Here come the cheetah’s(?), after an aged buffalo who'd collapsed beside her companion, (I hoped) to catch her 2nd wind.
In an oddly-dispassionate tone, the narrator informs us, “The slaughter has begun.” I can’t believe my eyes; the camera doggedly, cruelly stays focused.
“Why doesn’t someone DO something?... Don’t these people have rifles?” On my feet, practically shouting at the television.
DH quietly answers, “They won’t interfere with Mother Nature.”
But why do they feel compelled to broadcast it? Just like certain “R” or “X”-rated offerings, I wouldn’t want our grandchildren to witness those atrocities. Which, of course, reminds me of a favorite quote from that 70’s movie, “Butterflies are Free”:
Mrs. Baker: [talking about Ralph's play] I do not intend to pay money to see nudity, obscenity and degeneracy.
Ralph: Mrs. Baker, these things are all a part of life.
Mrs. Baker: I know, Mr. Santori. So is diarrhea, but I wouldn't classify it as entertainment.
Ya, OK, sometimes Nature sucks. That's why I'm happy they've provided a large “off” button on the remote.