All Else Fails in Fragile World

Oggy mourns his lost watchman's cap.

Inspecting the wolf quest footage I weep in weary dog tired neck brace of Oscar Peterson accentuated runs. The watercolor pixelation of my journey through Oggy Wonderland, New Foundland, Labradorland, wolf land, land of the mystery wolf, the white wolf who runs from two legged animal enemy. Syrian uprising and Iranian muscle flexing. The arc of time includes the Pre-Athenian Minots who sacrificed virgin children to the bull-man Minotaur in the Labyrinth. Is Oggy sacrificing his own inner child to the savage wolf? Is the wolf refusing to bite so Oggy wanders the labyrinth?
I was chased by a savage, feral husky dog in a place called Saint Lunaire Griquet north of St. Anthony on New Foundland where Vikings made nails from peat iron and abandoned their cove to moose and tourists. The dog surprised me as I was wandering the coastline looking at the icebergs, hunting the elusive arctic wolf. I fled on desolated knees as it snarled and chased my skinny flanks down a hill, my video camera dropping to the gravel and exploding as I unsheathed my knife in dire protective mode, the dog out for blood and Oggy's ankle turning over Viking spears, saved by war shaman's amulet provided by gypsy in Mexico. Dog abandoned chase and Oggy ate a banana and panted, his instinct for survival not totally demolished by self-inflicted delusion.

The danger signs warn us of that which is hidden by the fog. Under clear skies we wonder why go through the trouble? But short sightedness is a weakness of the sound byte families raising us on 50 minute lessons of propaganda. Save 50 cents on air fresheners, spend 30 minutes looking for parking, donate to charity, low fat cookies, wolf free mountains, apples with no animal fat, animal fat with no hormones, vaginal mesh lawsuits and birth defects do the Lambada to syncopated African Mrimba ting and plink. Stop means go. Spending means saving. Cheer your touchdown and punch your infant wolf in the muzzle.

The Icebergs of the fantasy point to the dream that is on the horizon, 80% hidden from sight, and the other 20% melting in the mercury rich climate of our ignorance.