So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...
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I've never heard of a pademelon (is that how you spell it?) before. You lot have the maddest critters.
How did it behave? Scared of humans? Or came to you all when you called at it? Did you pat it? I just need to go to Australia to hug these animals; many of them are hugged by visitors in those centers (I see all these animal programs at Animal Channel).
It's a National Park, so you're not supposed to touch or feed the animals. Oddly enough, I respect of such rules