…On the other hand, it might easily be something as simple & basically perverse as whatever instinct it is that causes a jackrabbit to wait until the last possible second to dart across the road in front of a speeding car.

People who claim to know jackrabbits will tell you they are primarily motivated by Fear, Stupidity, and Craziness. But I have spent enough time in jackrabbit country to know that most of them lead pretty dull lives; they are bored with their daily routines: eat, fuck, sleep, hop around a bush now & then…No wonder some of them drift over the line into cheap thrills once in a while; there has to be a powerful adrenaline rush in crouching by the side of a road, waiting for the next set of headlights to come along, then streaking out of the bushes with split-second timing and making it across to the other side just inches in front of the speeding front wheels.

Why not? Anything that gets the adrenaline moving like a 440 volt blast in a copper bathtub is good for the reflexes and keeps the veins free of cholesterol…but too many adrenaline rushes in any given time-span has the same bad effect on the nervous systems as too many electro-shock treatments are said to have on the brain; after a while you start burning out the circuits.

Why Oh Why, Stuart?

Why did I share this writing about a jackrabbit? First, it shows what an awesome writer does with a wildly entertaining thought. When I consider myself, assuming I can even produce an interesting thought, I can’t put it in words to make it entertaining. As I read that passage, I put my own head in the head of the jackrabbit waiting for a car to come. Could that possibly be the idea behind these darting little bastards? The thrill of it? They are tired with their mundane lives and need the excitement? Who knew we could be so alike.

When I used to walk Woodcrest while golfing, this notion has crossed my mind with geese. Do they wake up everyday and eat grass? Everyday. More grass. Different area. More grass. No wonder they are so pissed all the time. Could I have been wrong on psychology of animals all this time? Hunter S. Thompson has made me consider so. I also think dogs should start wearing shoes. I’m watching these mutts prance around in the streets of Philadelphia and that cannot feel good.