The Slazon Report #032599
HEART OF A DOG

On my way to class one day, I passed the anatomy lab. It was a warm day and the door was open. On a whim I stepped inside the darkened room. A film was being shown.

A dog lay on a table, all covered in white, except for its chest, which was laid open, bare, exposing its beating heart. The surgeons stood in a circle around it and injected it first with a substance that slowed its heart, then with a substance that speeded it up. When the dog's heart was speeded up it looked like it was going to explode.

I was shocked. I wanted to run but I couldn't. I didn't want to know this but I could not turn away. My feet were fused to the spot. A terrible sadness welled up in me as I watched the beating heart. Tears filled my eyes as questions rose in my thoughts: "Where did that dog come from? Was it someone's pet? What will happen to it? Will it suffer when it wakes up? Will it wake up? Do these people feel anything for this dog? Do they care? Does anyone care?"

From my place in the back of the room I couldn't see the faces of the students but I hoped with all my heart that they had tears in their eyes also. I thought of the lines of a poem I had just read:

"In Calgary
I saw a man break a dog's back.
Leaves on a white hill."
--Joe Stroud "Calligraphy"

What else is there to say in the face of such an act? Leaves on a white hill, a sense of impotence, helplessness. And again, at the end of the poem:

"The dog broken in the street.
White hill.
Leaves."
--Ibid.

The deed is done. The horror is final. There is nothing left to do. The dog, the white hill and the leaves are all the same now. What was once a Living Being had become just part of the landscape. Was it ever anything more than that?

I finally tore myself out of the classroom when they showed a turtle's heart beating in a vat of liquid; the heart only, no shell, no body, just a heart, beating away...utterly and completely alone.

I stood outside the room looking out at the clear blue sky watching the gulls circling in the distance. I felt overwhelmed with grief. I felt hopelessness and helplessness and utter confusion. But deep inside me, beneath those feeling, something else was stirring. Rage, powerful, smoldering rage at a world so wrong that it could do such wrong and yet, have the madness to call it right.

Scientific research! What kind of people can do things like that? Something is drastically missing in someone who could harm a living Being. Please do not repeat the propaganda you have been force-fed about the "wonders of scientific research" because it is all a GIGANTIC HOAX perpetrated by sadists (satanists).

DIVINE BEINGS ARE MADE OF DIVINE MATERIAL.

DIVINE BEINGS ARE CREATED FROM DIVINE THOUGHT.

DIVINE BEINGS MUST BE HOODWINKED IN ORDER TO BECOME ILL.

DIVINE BEINGS MUST BE BAMBOOZLED INTO ACCEPTING SICKNESS AND DEATH.

DIVINE BEINGS MUST BE HORNSWOOGLED TO GET THEM TO FOLLOW EVIL WAYS.

DIVINE BEINGS ARE LIVING, BREATHING MIRACLES!

WAKE UP AND BE ONE WITH YOUR CREATOR.

Jana Janus
The Rogue Butterfly
Scribe in the Ancient Language of Thrill