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Video: Interview with Scooter the Coonhound

By Philip Anselmo

For those who have been with the site for a while, you may have noticed we like to post the adoption videos posted on YouTube by the Genesee County Animal Shelter. Well, today, we found a few new videos from the shelter that are quite fun. Usually, the shelter crew just records the animals frolicking around and sets that to some quirky music. In three new videos, the shleter crew actually gives "interviews" with... well, really about the dogs. Check it out:

Conversations with Calliope- Dialogue with My Muse

By Joseph Langen

 


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JOE: Good morning Calliope.
CALLIOPE: Good morning Joe. I was wondering what kept you.
JOE: Sorry I'm late. I ran across a series of videos portraying the effect of our cruel use of animals and discussion of how it affects our lives at Transformation of Energy blog (
http://gracefulgnosis.blogspot.com.) I also found a quote from Tolstoy, "As long as we have slaughterhouses, we will have wars."
CALLIOPE: Quite profound.
JOE: I thought so. As much as we would like to think we resemble Native Americans and others who thanked animals for giving us their lives to sustain us. We prefer to hide from the slaughter and the cruelty which accompanies it.
CALLIOPE: What do you make of Tolstoy's quote?
JOE: I think any violence, even done on our part without our direct knowledge inclines us toward violence toward each other.
CALLIOPE: Quite a realization.
JOE: Yes, and I think this includes sexual and verbal violence as well as physical.
CALLIOPE: Do you think violence towards animals explains our violence toward each other?
JOE: I wouldn't go that far but I think there is a connection.
CALLIOPE: What do you plan to do about it?
JOE: Be more aware of my connection to animals through food, clothing and entertainment. I will also continue to make people aware of their effect on others and influences on how we act.
CALLIOPE: Sometimes I wonder if it's worth the effort.
JOE: I do too. But not making the effort just allows us to become more callous. Talk with you tomorrow.
(Bailey- Allegany River)

Photo Journal: Opening day at the Fair

By Philip Anselmo

Supermen, stuffed pink monkeys and plenty of other plush carnival prizes were strung up for the games yesterday afternoon when I stopped by the Genesee County Fair to get a preview of the festivities to come.

But the day belonged to the animals — bleating, sleeping, flirting, grooming, chewing, spitting, spatting, stinking, yet so lovable, animals. Plus the kids with water bottles who darted in and out of the stalls squirting at each other and squealing (not much unlike the goats, in fact) with glee.

As soon as I passed through the admissions gate, I heard the roosters. There must have been a hundred or so. Cackling, hooting and cock-a-doodle-doing and packed together in steel cages stacked one on top of another. Despite their close quarters they kept a proud chest high as they strutted, kicked up dust and barked at the rows upon rows of bunnies and fat rabbits that were as silent and immobile as the roosters were raucous and loud.

All of the game carts were shuttered, the rides were grounded, and the taffy girl wasn't pulling much of anything yet. A few families meandered through the midway. A couple dozen folks occupied the bleachers to spectate during some sort of sheep contest. But the animals seemed to outnumber the humans.

I couldn't quite gauge the emotion in this lady to my right here. At first she seemed sad, then flirty, then resigned, a little bit lethargic, all without doing any more than what you see her doing right here. Maybe she wanted someone to switch up the music — the speaker was set in front of her, sounding something jovial and bouncy, and she seemed anything but. A little while later, when I passed by again, she had the same expression on her face, though the tongue kept slipping out and tasting the air as a fellow bearing a set of clippers shaved the backs of her ears.

It didn't take long for this city boy to get over some of the more pungent, sour stinks emanating from the pens — was it the pheasants, I can't say — and soon enough I felt like a Saint Francis waiting for pigeons to land on my hands so we could converse and know the meaning of creaturely love.

Ah, the hogs. They had to be my favorite of the fair animals. They were most certainly the only ones there who, once alerted to the presence of myself and my camera, willingly sought out the lens. Like this starlet up above here who wanted to touch snouts with me, I'm sure. Or this one below who I'm sure hid a heart of love beneath that gruff, sleepy front he put up for the camera. If you look closely, you can see he wants to smile.

Then, of course, there were the goats.

Some had ears, some didn't. Some had horns, some didn't. Some couldn't keep their mouths shut for a second, bleating at kin and human baby alike. This one here was sounding the alarm for a few minutes straight. Maybe she was impatient to get out and strut her stuff, who knows.

Others were shuffled out of the pens, lifted up by strangers and cautiously pet by the trembling hands of little kids who went wide-eyed with joy at the touch of fur to skin.

Many of the sheep seemed content just to get some down time. Dressed to impress, they reclined in sackcloth coats, elastic sweaters and even tee-shirts. It must have been hard work getting paraded out in front of the gawking, bleacher-seated spectators while strangers grabbed at your sensitive places in front of all your friends and relations. But they bore it in style, those woolen ladies of the grange. Their randy goat brethren, however, typically got a laugh out of the whole show.

I have to admit. It wasn't easy to leave. I've never been much of an animal person. But there was something in the way the cows hid behind the fence slats only after I aimed the camera at them, something in those snouty grunts of the hogs and the knowing sneers of the goats, as if all of us — the animals, the frightened-yet-elated babies and the awkward photo-journalist — all of us shared something that never had to be spoken because it was already known. A sort of complicity, though none of us were guilty. A shared involvement in the silly, imbalanced joke of life that was had at all of our expense.

So I tell you. If you can get that much out of one brief visit to the fair, in the middle of the day, when the fried dough hadn't even been fried yet — then it's worth the $5 per carload.

Video: Carson & Barnes Circus

By Philip Anselmo

Please enjoy our tour around the big top... and the midway, and the petting zoo and everywhere else at the circus as the crews of Carson & Barnes got ready for the big show going on right now over at the Genesee County Fairgrounds.

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