Okay, okay, so I'm bored an lazy today and just want to cop out and insert a photo. 

But seriously, there are not many things that get an actual physical reaction from me...this one definitely made me laugh. 

-Jeeem-

Most people have a certain way they get comfortable in order to have a restful sleep.  Some sleep on their sides, some on their backs and some on their stomachs.  They get inventive with pillows and those long, sausage shaped bullet pillows, along with their sheets and bedspreads.

I sleep primarily on my side or back and for some damn reason I have to have my leg partially sticking out from beneath my bedspread.  One of my arms is always underneath my pillow, while the other is next to my face on top of the pillow.  Any major variations of this and I can't sleep...or I have a fitful sleep that causes me to wake up punchy and grouchy.  Oh!  I didn't mention the fan.  I always have a fan blowing on me at night.  Hey, it's Thailand you know?

Enter....THE BUS.

It is truly hilarious to see people not unlike myself on a bus trying to get into that familiar comfortable mode.  You're confined to a narrow space, relatively folded up into an "L" shape unless you decide to recline your seat and piss off the guy behind you who's trying to do his crossword puzzle on the little fold-down desk on back of the seat in front of him.  It's really a very comical scenario.

I'd estimate that come sleepy-time on a bus...which varies a little depending on the people (some try sleeping the very minute they sit in their seat, while some wait until the in-flight movie is over the lights turned down and the music off), there is a grace period of oh...about fifteen to thirty minutes where people are busy trying to make themselves comfortable for that (hopefully) long sleep until their destination is reached.

This is truly entertainment time for me.  I like watching it as it unfolds.  People really get inventive, wrapping their feet around the foot rest in front of them, using their purses and backpacks as pillows, propping their heads against the buses window...the lucky ones of course are the ones who somehow got away with not having a passenger next to them.  Suddenly that narrow space widens, and new opportunities are presented.

Then comes sleep.

I can afford to watch during that grace period because I know by now, my favored position on a bus.  I use the bus blanket as a pillow opting instead to semi-freeze to death with the ceiling vent blowing near me at -90 degrees Celsius.  I roll it up into a sausage shape and tuck it right in that void between the bus seat and my neck.  Then I turn on either side a bit, recline the seat a little bit (until the point I hear the muffled profanities behind me) turn my head to and fro a little, nuzzling into my makeshift pillow, and finally stretching my legs out and around the foot rest until I find a comfortable spot. 

Then, as the destination is reached, you enter another entertainment period as you watch people wake up and look around them, with that dazed and confused look...hair sticking out in all directions or flat on one side...wiping the drool from their chins, blouses and shirts, rubbing their eyes.

The bus attendant comes around and offers us little plastic packets of facial wipes...a very simple gesture from a company that knows of the terrible after effects of sleeping on a bus.  Your skin has somehow magically acquired this glossy, sweaty sheen although the temperature in the damn bus is sub-zero.  You feel like a greasy mess.  Your hair is no longer soft and per-fumy-shampoo soft...it's now a matted, greasy mess.  Those facial wipes are a godsend.  They are moist, somehow very cool to the touch and smell like a refreshing citrus grove.  Glasses come off and everyone is thankfully wiping away the greasy bus grime of bus sleep.

Some folks just dab their faces with their facial wipes.  Some also use them on their hands.  Then there are those, like me who utilize these relatively small facial wipes to take a sponge bath.  Yep...we wipe our face, get behind and in the ears, the neck, hands, arms, reach up under our shirts and go for the old pits, a real thorough citrus bathing.  Hey!  Don't knock it!  It feels good!  Afterwards my pristine little facial wipe is a dingy brown and in tatters.

I'm back from Bangkok and it all seems as if it were a dream.

Twelve hour trip to Bangkok, arriving at Morchit Bus Station around 6:30 a.m., breakfast at Dunkin' Donuts, taxi ride to the U.S. Embassy, got my new passport in oh....about five minutes as figured, hailed another taxi and returned to Morchit to book my bus ticket back home.  You can't get a bus leaving in the morning or early afternoon for some reason,  so ya have to wait until the earliest bus back to Hat Yai which leaves at 17:50 p.m.  Damn long time to wait in a bus station.  I know every damn nook and cranny of Morchit Bus Station now, after what?  Four times being there in the last month?

Lunch at KFC.  A spicy chicken burger, large fries and a Pepsi (I love Pepsi...Coke tends to leave a fine, icky film on my teeth) while alternating reading the newspaper and watching the gorgeous Asian women walking about in skin-tight pants, short skirts and all manner of ultra-high, spiked "fuck me" heels.

Grabbed a newspaper at one of the many kiosks located in Morchit, always The Nation, as they don't carry the Bangkok Post at all...none of the stores do...most likely a political thing having something to do with the yellow versus red shirts or PAD versus UDD.  Most likely the Post has a tendency to sometimes lean in one direction or the other and piss off somebody.

The Nation sucks for news, unless it's Thai political...not much in the way of International news.  But, I do love their puzzle page.  A nice, big Sodoku puzzle, a word find with a secret hidden word, a couple anagrams, and their crossword puzzle.  It's kind of a cryptic one, so I typically skip it as I can never figure those out.  Their comic section is severely lacking too.  What really surprised me was happening onto the subscription page and seeing the ridiculous fee they charge, when compared to the Bangkok Post, there really isn't a comparison, as the Bangkok Post is a much more comprehensive newspaper, if slightly opinionated at times.

The highlight of my boring layover?  Snicker's bars!

I'm really not that much of a chocolate nut but whoever the hell invented the Snicker's bar was just a chocolate genius!  My favorite thing is to freeze them.  Heaven.

Dinner was at the food court.  I must say, Thai food looks excellent on a plate.  The Thai's know just how to present their gastronomical delights, and one of my favorites is Laab Moo.  I found some and ordered it, only to sit down and dig into it...very colorful with a delightful aroma, sitting on a fluffy bed of rice...and find it practically inedible due to the outrageous spiciness.  Way too hot for my taste.  I managed to eat a little more than half of it, opting to place tiny spoonfuls of the Laab Moo into a whooping spoonful of rice to try and water it down a bit.

Thai food is NOT my favorite food at all....in order, my favorite foods are as follows:

1.  Mexican Food (real Mexican food...not Tex-Mex)
2.  American junk food (like hotdogs, greasy hamburgers and various fast foods)
3.  Indian food (Chicken Masala, Chapati, Nan, etc.)
4.  Chinese food (specifically Cantonese)
5.  German sausages (Bratwurst bbq is my all-time favorite...with a large dollop of brown mustard)
6.  Canadian Pom Frites

To be honest, Thai food is so far down my list I'm not even going to go there.  I'll stop my list at Canadian Pom Frites or Canadian fries topped with various juicy bacon bits (Canadian back bacon of course), white cheese curd, fried onions and green peppers and all slathered in a delightful, creamy brown gravy...All washed down with a heady Moosehead brew of course.

Thai food just isn't a choice of mine.  I've never felt a hunger pang and said to myself, "Hummmm...I think I'd like to go out and get some Thai food."  Nope, just never crossed my mind.

But, when in Rome...

So my biggest gripe about the food...if I have to eat it...(and it is dirt cheap here...) is that Thai's seem to cook up lovely concoctions then ruin the meal by drenching their food in ultra-hot Thai peppers.  Unbelievably hot in most cases.  I picked the food court since I wanted to save a little money.  Buying American junk food like McDonalds, KFC, Pizza Hut and the like isn't cheap by any means, and most everything you buy at those places are adapted to the Thai palate and come spicy.  Believe me, I've tried to get just plain old KFC chicken and ended up confusing the hell out of the counter girl serving me.

I did end up grabbing a large fries, spicy chicken sandwich and a fish sandwich to go, at KFC, just before my bus left for Hat Yai.  They give you a "meal" on the bus, which is nothing more really than a muffin or some sugary buttered bread and a packaged "glass" of water.  So having a chicken sandwich is really heaven when those hunger pangs hit at three in the morning rolling somewhere through east Osh-kosh Thailand.

The bus makes one "BIG" stop at a major Petrol station-cum-restaurant-cum-store.  You have approximately twenty minutes to hit the bathroom, freshen up a bit and then grab something from the store, the restaurant or both...if you're quick about it.  It's sort of a tradition of sorts here in Asia for a traveler to pick up some packaged goodies to eat for the people back home.  I don't have a girlfriend really, at the time, or family, so I picked up some goodies for my three office mates, Amm, Lux and Michael.  I'm sure they will be surprised...then there's that good feeling you get of giving.

So, I have a new passport now and a letter to the Thai Immigration Office asking them nicely to please transfer my visa into the new passport.  But, the letter is in English...they outta get a real kick outta that!

Till next time!
-Jeeem-

Screwed by the U.S. Government...

As I posted a way's back, I had to take a trip to Bangkok on the 14th of December, 2010 in order to renew my passport.  It was due to expire January 10th, 2011.  I also mentioned in my posting that due to my financial matters at the time, I was not quite prepared for such an expensive trip and began looking closer at reasons why I had to show up to the Embassy in Bangkok in the first place, since if I had been in the states, all I would have had to do was pop my passport into the mail with the proper fee and I'd get my new passport back in a couple weeks.

But, for reasons that still remain unanswered, I had to incur the rather costly expenses of traveling to Bangkok for a procedure that took approximately 15 to 20 minutes. That's right...you heard it here at "Jim's Quiet Musings..." the U.S. Government required me to travel FOUR HUNDRED SEVENTY-FOUR MILES....or.....SEVEN HUNDRED SIXTY-THREE KILOMETERS for an appointment that took roughly 15 to twenty minutes.  Think that's ridiculous?  READ ON...you ain't heard nuthin' yet pilgrim.

As I was leaving the Embassy, a rather pleasant gentleman told me to first expect an e-mail telling me my new passport was ready, then I could expect to receive it in the mail in another week.  These were his exact words.

I returned home, a little worse off for the wear as my wallet took a serious hit for this little excursion...something I really didn't need at the time.  But, as promised, I received the e-mail from the U.S. Embassy notifying me my new passport was ready and to expect it in the mail within a week.

This is where the really big problem started...

I don't have any trust in the Thai Postal Service anyway...they tend to do things in the typical unorthodox, corrupt, third world country, Southeast Asian way.  They either rip you off by rifling through your packages and stealing whatever they want, or they treat your mail as if it were garbage.  The postal delivery man here in the Patong area will leave packages and large envelopes for me that won't fit into the mailbox, on the table in my little Nipa Hut.  Right out in the open where anybody can just walk up, grab the package or envelope and walk off with it.  What they should do is simply pop a notice into the mailbox that my mail is important to them and they have it safe and secure in the post office for me to pick up.

But hey, this is Thailand...

After ten days or so of not seeing anything on the table in my Nipa Hut when I returned home from school, I fired off an e-mail to the U.S. Embassy telling them I feared the worst, that the Thailand Postal Service had stolen my new passport.

The news I received in return was a total shock...

Dear Mr. Anderson,

When you applied for a new passport did you purchase an envelope for us to return your passport via Thai post?

Your passport is located in our office, available for pickup.  Please advise if you purchased an envelope, we will need the tracking number of the envelope located on your receipt.

Our apologies for the misunderstanding,

American Citizen Services

Had I purchased an envelope for them to send my passport back to me?

W..T..F?

I wrote them a rather acerbic, passive / aggressive, mildly sarcastic e-mail in return, which said in gist that there was no information about it on the Embassy's website when I downloaded the form to fill out for renewal or when I applied for an Embassy appointment online and nobody at the Embassy said anything about my having to purchase an envelope so they could mail it back to me.  Then I added a rather lengthy, itemized list of the expenses I incurred traveling from my home to Bangkok and back, including transportation costs, meals, drinks, taxi fares, a night in a hotel, more taxi fares, the fee for my renewal, which was a whopping $110.00 U.S., or 3,380 baht, more taxi fares and the return trip home.  

Then I added, "And now you want me to pay for an envelope so you can mail me my passport?"

"Fine," I said in closing..."Tell me where to send the money and I will send the money to you for the cost of the envelope."

But, again to my surprise...the FINAL INSULT in their return e-mail:

Dear Mr. Anderson,

Thank you for your email, arrangements to have a passport mailed must have been made at the time of application.  We understand your situation and have several options available for your consideration.

A friend or family member may pick up your passport on your behalf.  They will need your old passport and a letter, signed by you, and with the name of the friend or family member in the body of the letter, authorizing them to pick up your passport on your behalf.

We routinely conduct consular outreaches in the Phuket area, we can take your new passport to our next consular outreach, where you can pick it up in person, or have a friend or family member pick it up on your behalf.  Our next Consular Outreach will be Wednesday, March 16^th.

We are able to hold your new passport for as long as necessary, you may pick it up on your next trip through Bangkok.

Please advise if you would like us to bring your new passport to our consular outreach in Phuket on March 16^th.

Regards-

American Citizen Services

Well, I gotta say...that one hit me like a ton of bricks.  I wrote them back and told them I have no family and although I do have friends, none of them live anywhere near Bangkok.  I also added that I could not wait for the Consular Outreach in Phuket, since I needed to have a new passport for my February appointment with immigration when my non-immigrant B visa expires.  

My only recourse?  

I have to return to Bangkok.  

At best, this will cost me roughly three thousand three hundred baht, covering transportation costs and taxi fares.  I plan to pack enough food with me so I don't have to use any more money than I have to...but my point here is my being screwed by the U.S. Government...and why?  Why is it no body can give me any answers to my very valid questions either?

Because they are all a bunch of powerful idiots and they themselves don't know the answers.

That's why.   

-Jeeem- 

 

A man or woman with the best intentions, who've lived an honest, humble life prior to office,  will become tainted by the United States Government's Political Regime...where the government's needs come well before the people's needs, their own very citizens...needs. 

However, most honest, humble individuals never even get close to holding a position or office of authority in the United States Government.  It's the ruthless, lying, cheating pricks who are the pick of the litter...

Ah...the U.S. Government...

They've got a hand in every damn country in the world...as most countries do, in the form of an Embassy or Consulate...or...well both, I guess.  I mean really, what the hell is the difference?  Embassy/Consulate...I'm too goddamn lazy to look it up online so maybe some astute person out there in Cyberland can enlighten me.

I'm a fairly good representative of what I'll call, "The näive kid from the southwest, born in the 50's."

The buzzwords back in the mid-to-late 50's and the early to late 60's, were "Patriotism, Optimism, Communism and wholesome living."  I grew up in that 1950's household where daddy was an alcoholic, mommy was a psychotic abuser, grandma was a lazy washout, and family secrets were well-kept.

There was a debate in my household, whether to dole out the mega-money and send me...little Jimmy...to private school, or opt-out for the much cheaper route of sending me to public school.  Since my father was not only a drinker, but also a very bad gambler, my mother made the decision to send me to public school, afraid the money just wouldn't be there if I were to attend private school.

I wasn't like most kids...afraid of that first day of school.

No, I was excited.

Being at home was becoming a bore for me at age six and I was also looking forward to spending several hours a day away from my mother and her psychotic anger issues...often being beaten within an inch of my life for shit like forgetting to turn off the T.V., or for making too much noise while playing out back of her beauty shop, which was attached to the house as an addition.

No, I had my newly purchased notebooks, lined paper, pencils, pens, colored pencils, ruler, compass, eraser and a case where everything fit neatly inside.  I was already a budding neat-freak and I loved organization...the hallmarks of a kid whose life was severely disorganized...so I made up for it in other ways. 

Being neat...the only organization in a life that was severely disorganized. 

I left my mother's station wagon after giving her a kiss, and after stepping out the door, I saw other kids screaming and crying...afraid to leave their mother's side.  Even at age six, I already hated my mother, so there was no love lost there...she was a child beater and I feared my mother more than anything else I'd ever encountered in my life to that point.


My first class...Mrs. Baird's class, my homeroom, was wonderful. I liked Mrs. Baird from the start.  She became a maternal surrogate of sorts during my younger years.

I remember well, how from the very beginning, the propaganda began.

"I have the greatest admiration for your propaganda. Propaganda in the West is carried out by experts who have had the best training in the world, in the field of advertising, and have mastered the techniques with exceptional proficiency...Yours are subtle and persuasive; ours are crude and obvious...I think that the fundamental difference between our worlds, with respect to propaganda, is quite simple. You tend to believe yours ... and we tend to disbelieve ours."
-Soviet correspondent based five years in the U.S. -

We were taught how to stand for the United States flag and how to place our right hand over our heart and recite the "Pledge of Allegiance to the United States of America."

"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."


There was much more to it than that, but it's not important right now....My point is the whole damn thing made no sense to me then...and doesn't make a whole lotta sense to me now...at age fifty-five.

This was part of what was called "Patriotism," a concept I not only knew nothing about at the time, but one that I'd grow to detest over time.  As a child of age six, this was all nothing different than the propaganda that was being crammed down the throats and into the brains of Chinese kids, Portuguese kids, Italian kids, Singaporean kids, and any other kid in any other part of the world.  Governments were attempting to brainwash all of their citizens to believe they had to give a part of themselves to their country.

Patriotism?

What a crock of shit.

Religion...another crock of shit...tended to mix often with government bullshit...creating the on-going rift of the need for separation of church and state...which has never really been resolved, and is currently the cause of many of the world's most violent, ridiculous wars.

Brainwashed from the ripe old age of six...and from listening to my parents?  The same had been going on for ages before me.  Propaganda....brainwashing...all a form of governmental control.  We were preached at about Patriotism, devotion to our flag, to our country...there were no options at the time...it was unheard of for a school or any public organization for that matter, to skip such matters and make patriotism irrelevant in their private or public organizations. 

To do so, at that time and even now...was to be labeled COMMUNIST. 

The "REDS," the "COMMIES," as they were referred to...

If you acted in the least suspicious manner, people were watching you and a simple phone call could end you and your pals in jail for extended periods of time.  Everybody was paranoid.  The Russians were considered evil, sneaky, and pervasive...recruiting you in every way and means possible...the threat of a nuclear war hung in the air.

In schools we had regular "drills" for air-raids...The BOMB was COMING...Nuclear War was imminent.  "Duck and Cover," became a household phrase...children were taught in school to "Duck and cover," meaning getting out of their desks, placing their hands behind their necks, folding their arms forward, climbing under their desks, and hunching down into a ball.

...and kissing your ass goodbye.

Every school, shopping mall, auditorium, theater, etc. had a "Fallout Shelter," marked by the black and yellow Nuclear symbol....a place to go when the big one was dropped.

Patriotism...it was everywhere.  Just like diseased vermin.  U.S. citizens were MADE to believe the piece of cloth they flew on flagpoles actually meant something...soldiers were resigned to giving up their lives for it...and still are, but to a much lesser degree now.  Why?  Because people are becoming smart.  They are learning to disbelieve patriotism...they are learning to disbelieve in their government.

Why-o-why go and fight in a war that your own government started in the first place and kill people you don't even know for a cause you really don't understand or believe...for that matter.  Why?  I certainly don't love my country enough to get killed for it.  Hell, it's just a chunk of dirt with border lines drawn in it.

Sorta like that game we played as kids.  You draw a line in the dirt and you say, "Cross that line and you're dead meat man!"

Matter-of-fact, looking back over the years...most of what my government did or had its hand in, was all like child's play...silly assed stuff in the hands of irresponsible adults.  And who pays the price?  Not the government...no, they sit in their comfy chairs in their climate controlled offices while we, or our children die for their fuck-ups.

During high school, a fairly good friend of mine was literally grabbed and taken away during a high school pep rally because he refused to stand for the "National Anthem."  He held his place, sitting down, and was roughly grabbed and made to stand up by one of the school muscle-head coaches.  Then, when he still refused to comply, he simply disappeared.

I asked questions...but at the time received very few answers.  Only much later did the truth surface, that he was a Jehovah's Witness who, by his religious belief was not allowed to "worship" inanimate objects such as statues, icons, flags, or other items.  Hell, as it goes...Jehovah's Witnesses are not even allowed to celebrate their own birthdays.

I thought it all a bit nutty...but even at my young age, I thought it was rather communistic...or whatever...to arrest a person, detain them, or punish them for their own religious beliefs in a country that supposedly preached freedom.  It was then I began to see that the United States was built upon a bunch of lies and misconceptions.

And still is....

You see, past President John F. Kennedy...one of the popular presidents of his time...if not THE most popular president in history...had it all wrong.

It's not, "Ask NOT what your country can do for you, but what YOU can do for your country..."

It should have been, "Ask NOT what you can do for your country...ASK what your COUNTRY can do for you!"  Isn't that how democracy is supposed to work?

And at this moment in my life, I can't really think of much my country has done for me...and that's only one of the numerous reasons I'm living in Asia at this moment in my life.  Stay tuned sports fans, because my next post will point out a bit of what I'm talking about...how our own government treats its citizens. 

-Jeeem-

The deadly box jellyfish...

Look at this thing.

Glowing, undulating, pulsating with unearthly beauty...floating aimlessly along with only the bare essentials of a nervous system. It's the world's most deadly jelly fish, and each one packs enough venom to kill 60 adults.

Tentacles up to 3 meters long, and just brushing one is enough to automatically release the microscopic darts, flooding your system with poison.

Excruciating pain follows shortly thereafter and if the strike is bad, your expected lifespan is somewhere around oh...3 or 4 minutes.

This creature is from Northern Australia.  It packs a neurotoxin that targets the skin, heart and nervous system simultaneously.

Initial treatment for a victim is to get vinegar onto the wound, and then you'll need to begin CPR.

The nasty thing about trying to help someone who's been stung is that the stingers continue to be active until naturally broken down, so if you so much as touch the wounded area, whilst trying to save your victim, you get stung as well...then you'll be needing CPR too..

"Eh Jeeem?  What's your point in posting this crap?" you ask...

Easily enough answered...as Jeeem's Quiet Musings usually has a definite purpose to its postings...

My point?  NEVER, EVER, VISIT AUSTRALIA!

Hey, it's a tiny little squat continent anyway...nothing much missed as well over half the goddamn place is desert anyway...horrid desert.  Plus the people talk funny anyway.

But, the solid fact is that Australia is home to the largest percentage of the most lethal, putridity poisonous animals and insects in the world.  The box jellyfish is just a small sample.  Whether on land or in the sea, you had better watch your goddamn ass!

Then there is the microscopic terrors most Australian visitors never encounter...but those who do or who have, will tell you...

They'd rather have died by the savage bite of a great white shark, the lethal sting of a box jellyfish, or stepping on the deadly blue-ringed octopus, which delivers a neurotoxin so powerful...so lethal...as to totally paralyze a victim in less than four minutes. 

“The symptoms overwhelm you. On a pain scale of 1 to 10,
it rated between 15 and 20...”
- Irukandji victim

It is likely that the pain from an Irukandji sting ranks among the most intense and excruciating agonies possible to experience - skirting the actual limits of maximum pain. With the soaring blood pressure, profuse sweating and frantic cramps, some bodies simply buckle under the pressure of the unrelenting torment, with brain hemorrhages and heart attacks having been documented as a result. Victims report wanting to rip their own skin off, begging doctors to be killed just to be put out of their misery. A female victim elaborates, "It's like when you're in labor, having a baby, and you've reached the peak of a contraction—that absolute peak—and you feel like you just can't do it anymore. That's the minimum that [Irukandji] pain is at, and it just builds from there."

"I don't think anything can prepare you for it. It comes in these sorts of crazy waves of pain, which increase in intensity
until you get to the point where you just can’t handle it..."
- Irukandji victim

Dr Peter Fenner is Australia's leading expert on the grouping of symptoms that later came to be known as Irukandji syndrome. What he tells of the course of the symptoms shows that the Irukandji has further tricks up its sleeve than the mere pain: "You get cramping in the muscles of the legs, moving up into the abdomen, into the chest, into the arms," says Dr Fenner. "It's the really severe cramping pains that people become totally distraught by.

It comes in waves, rather like labor pain, getting stronger and stronger. You need vast doses of morphine or opiate drugs to control the pain. Victims get a really severe headache and begin vomiting. They feel absolutely dreadful.  A feeling of impending doom is how they describe it".

Disturbingly, Irukandji venom seems to affect the mind as well. Victims report a sense of being certain that the pain will kill them, that death is inevitable.

Compounding the overwhelming stress of the experience, no antivenom exists, and in most cases not even the strongest painkillers can take the edge off the torturous suffering.

Because Irukandji syndrome, though temporary and rarely lasting longer than a "few days" (a lifetime to those who are experiencing the pain), has such a varied and unpredictable progression, complete sedation is extremely risky, leaving no other course for victims than be left alone to face the onslaught head-on, writhing in torment at the limits of pain.

So....you want to visit Australia....

Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

And I didn't even get to the ultra deadly snakes and spiders, which inhabit that sordid continent.

-Jeeem-

Check out the video below for the ultimate in WTF?

Now if any of you readers out there actually understand that video, please...by-all-means, send me an e-mail and explain it to me.

-Jeeem- 

WARNING!

If you are an animal lover like I am, you will surely cry over this video...but then hey, that's a natural thing, right?

I'm fifty-five years old and have lived long enough to see so many human atrocities...cruelty to others and to animals.  Makes you wonder what is going on with people that they lose their sense of caring. 

Then you see something like this and...at least for me...it sort of restores your faith in altruism.

-Jeeem-