10/10/10, a day in infamy, for we, the wee sheep. For on this day our revolution began. We refused to be mild for the man any longer.
From the very beginning, we did not cooperate, refusing to be on time, arriving late on purpose with a purpose, for we are no slave to the clock. As you paraded us down your Main Street for show, in your annual Trailing of the Sheep, we acted and reacted. The moment our front guard reached the heart of your town, they stopped, refusing to move. In orchestrated chaos, smaller groups broke from the herd, moving in the opposite direction. Others leaped up and down in protest. One group charged head-on in a stampede of solidarity, until they ran into the group that refused to move.
A large white guard dog had penned one small herd against the wall, but on cue, the herd rushed him, faced him down nose to nose, circled and swallowed him into a sea of white. Still others ran figure-eights around the authoritarians who were trying to order them about. One brave sister or brother jumped the wall to freedom, but alas, freedom from overlords was fleeting; captured, they were thrown back into the pile of conformity, to be one of the pack, individuality and hope sheared away like so much wool.
This day we were outnumbered, eventually placed back in line to hoove the line by the man and his lackey dogs. But only this time, until next year!
Bah, bah, la revolución! "Be a sheep, don't be a sheep." Signed, Mack the Black(sheep)
Don Lappin
Sun Valley
