The Homepage of Anything and Everything

(or at least whatever we can fit into 6 megs) 

This is an epic tale of a nonconformist's brave fight against the manifestations and corruption of a neoteric society, crumbling away at our fingertips, moldy, corroding, stale with age and the cankerous debauch of civilization.

Our story unfolds on a deep ominous twilight in the rural areas of Southern Quebec on the horticultural prison owned by Farmer Brown. This was to go down forever in history as a fateful night, a dark night, a sovereign night, the Night......of the Cow.

It was here on this inculpable elementary tillage that the auspicious individualist dwelled in the crude makings of a livery along with several samples of cattle reeking offensively of their own fecal material. But these humble, rather smelly beginnings are common in the cases of preponderant protagonists such as the Founder of Christianity, born himslef in a similar livery, and also those of our nation's sixteenth vanguard, Abraham Lincoln.

Besides which, the heroine was much inclined to having a bile-seeming odor herself due to the fact that she was also one of the female bovine mammals kept on Farmer Brown's domestic penitentiary. But she was no ordinary cow.

She saw the oppression instilled by the agriculturists; the theiving of her own natural juices for the cannibalistic morning rituals of uncaring, greedy tyrants; the way her fellow cattle had been reduced to mere puppets of a tainted plutocracy. Nobody stopped long enough to think, ask why, dare to challenge the delimitation society had placed on life. Nobody but Bessy the cow.

Thoughts had been churning wildly in her head for awhile, and the tediousness of an academically-restricted lifestyle was driving the poor ruminant nearly manic with repression. She had to break out of her humdrum, fettered existence, go against the orthodox laws that authority had created for its own warped perception of living, and become her own exclusive enraptured entity. That was that fateful night, that dark night, that sovereign night, the Night.....of the Cow.

And so Bessy planned her intrigue with an articulate fastidious demeanor. She waited until Farmer Brown was besotted with vodka provoked by her accomplice, Henry the Rooster (another of the rare free thinkers and all too willing to risk certain decapitation just to have a hand in the Cause) before slipping from her cubicle, invisible to the slumbering, disapproving eyes of the assemblage of conformists surrounding her. She was cloaked in the chilly aphotic veil of night as she made her way from the only home she had ever known.

The air she took in tasted sweet though, and sent the adrenaline pumping through her rampageous emotionally-charged body. It was the taste of freedom. This moved her to a sublime, Herculean feat of clearing a one foot ditch in a single, graceful bound to the highway leading onward to places where cows could be who they wanted to be and live how they wanted to live. Bessy turned to the east and started her pilgrimage to deliverance of her own true self and the salvation of any moral or principal she ever let recede and fester in the back of her soul. Nothing could stop her that fateful night, that dark night, that sovereign night, the Night.....of the Cow.

And then this emancipator of nonconformists, this faithful leader and heroine of radicals and discrepant personages everywhere, while making her boldest statement of saying no to the fascists of the world.......

 

was shot down in her blaze of glory, a rising star exploding at a key, climatic moment, mowed over by a lawyer from Illinois.

In a horrible screeching of tires, Bessy's eyes reflecting the headlight's glare, cow met car in a horrific, melodramatic ending to our heart-wrenching bestiary. Bessy died that night, left on the side of the road for hamburger in a horribly ironic twist of fate that life sometimes throws in your face. But at least she died free, a symbol to all liberty and manumission, so much more than just a cow. That fateful night, that dark night, that sovereign night, the Night.....of the Cow.



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