Slinging mud
 

Was it a lone gunman who pulled the trigger? Or was it a group poop? Was there Metamucil involved? Did they use recycled toilet paper?

Alas, we may never know the circumstances behind this week’s unfortunate smear on the decent citizens of Durango, but one thing’s for sure, it’s more than a little embarrassing. On many levels.

That’s right. Just when we all thought it was safe to step back into the political fray after the ugliness of the last election cycle, the Durango Serial Pooper (poopers?) has made us all think twice.

I mean, I’ve heard of mud slinging, but this is taking it to a whole new low. And when the national media gets wind of this story – trust me, these things have a way of leaking out – it’ll be like flies to, well, you know.

Anyway, despite this loathsome individual(s) obvious ability to excel at plumbing disgusting new depths, it is important not to give he/she/they’s pathetic attempt at a political statement any more attention than it’s already received. In fact, about the only thing remotely observant we can say about the Mad Poopers is they are capable of dropping trou and squatting. Nice job. (Which isn’t saying much considering there are wild baboons capable of such actions, although something tells me they probably have the common decency to at least do so in a more appropriate location.)

We can only hope when the haze of the whiskey/beer/Robitussin/cannonballs that no doubt preceded this extremely childish prank wore off, the perps at least felt some remorse, if not a nasty hangover and a sting of shame on their tender cheeks.

And, of course, such incidents can only cause those of us who have seen our fair town suffer through some rather ugly growing pains over the years, to shake our heads in dismay. I mean, isn’t it bad enough people can’t seem to pick up after their pets? Now, we’re faced with human droppings? I shudder to think of what the pick-up bags for that task must look like.

Apparently, this is what the world has now come to. Healthy political discourse has been usurped by Beavis and Butthead with overactive bowels.

(Ok, I would like to say here, in the interest of full disclosure, that I once decorated a hockey opponent’s yard and vehicle with political paraphernalia that most definitely did not align with her political beliefs. But this was only in retaliation for a drive-by paint-balling that required several trips to the car wash. That, and there was the time I covered someone’s yard in those Styrofoam packing peanuts, but only because they T.P.-ed my house the night before my wedding, setting off the dog alarm. Hell hath no fury like a bride-to-be scorned of her beauty rest. Needless to say, there was most definitely no human excrement involved whatsoever in either case.)

Anyway, all bathroom humor aside, I cannot say I am completely surprised by the recent state of affairs. Maybe it is the recession, seemingly incessant road construction or the fact that after several years of lip service, we still don’t have a Target, but people seem a little on edge around here lately. Even my typically relaxing daily commute sometimes feels like I’m taking my life in my own hands.

And to be fair, this does not appear to be a problem isolated to our little burgh. In fact, I think it’s safe to say the whole country has developed a bit of an anger management problem. Bitter, vitriolic banter is not something unique to our corner of the world. No, it can be found cowering behind nonsensical online user names and random acts of vandalism just about anywhere.

The problem is, behind that thin veil of send-button anonymity or the darkness of late-night foolery, we here in Durango are still neighbors – irregardless of whose name is plastered on the signs in the front yard. And try as you might to avoid it, eventually you will have to face one another, whether it’s at the post office, on the street or at the local watering hole. Sooner or later, you’ll be bellied up next to one another, even if you happen to reside on opposite ends of the political spectrum. And that’s a sticky enough situation without adding the horrifying possibility of eating your own words (which is probably still enforced in certain nondemocratic countries).

Besides, who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll need a helping hand from this person, in the form of anything from a life-saving pint of blood to a snowblower. So think with your head, not your other end, because before we know it, the election will be over, it’ll be politics as usual, and the snow will by flying. And let’s just pray those will be the only dumps we’ll have to deal with around here for some time.

– Missy Votel