Then the researchers turned off the other side of the floor and electrified the first side.

The dogs did nothing.

The researchers turned off the floor, then turned it on again. Nothing. So they zapped them over and over and over, trying to get them to jump the low fence and find out the other floor was now safe, but the dogs just cowered and huddled miserably, never attempting even once to jump over to the floor which was no longer a danger to them.

They had learned it was useless to do so. So now, even when relief was available to them, they didn't bother to try to find it.

That's learned helplessness. And the United States is a nation of sufferers. To say nothing of the rest of the planet.

We're the doggies. We've been carefully and intentionally manipulated, conditioned, trained, cowed, humiliated, and intimidated into not reacting to injustice and suffering. We've been taught not to complain and not to believe in our ability to change things when we are unhappy with them. We've been told we will be happier if we just leave things the way they are, that change would just bring about more pain.

We've been taught not only that the other side of the pen is just as painful as this side, but that we'll be humiliated, ostracized, and otherwise punished if we even try to jump that fence.

The Indigos

And then we have the Indigos. They're different. They're new here, and they don't react to things like most people do.

You see, the Indigos are a new group of doggies. They haven't been living through the floor experiment. They've come from a place where doggies run free in grassy fields full of toys and happy playmates. Where they're provided with all kinds of wonderful, interesting, delicious and nutritious food to eat, and soft, comfy cushions to sleep on when they're tired. Where the sky stays clear and the temperature is just right, and there's always a new hollow log to explore, a new trail to follow, a new smell on the air to investigate.

And now they awake to find themselves in a strange, small, ugly, featureless cage with a weird floor. The first thing they notice is they no longer have the freedom they once had. There are walls here, made of steel, and they can only walk around in a small area. They can't see the sky anymore either, just a dull painted ceiling. The lovely smells are gone, there's no soft grass, and the food is odd and bland and doesn't make them feel very good. No soft, fluffy cushions here, either, and their playmates are sullen, cowering, fearful balls of patchy fur that barely whimper when approached.

These new doggies react to their new environment in shock and dismay, and begin scratching at the floor and walls, jumping and whining and barking. They howl miserably, and nip at the other occupants of the cage, trying to get a response out of them. They begin to fight amongst themselves out of anger, fear, and frustration, and soon the floor is streaked with blood.

But these doggies are different in other ways as well. Their sense of smell is much more acute than that of the first group of doggies. And through the steel walls, they catch the scent of a field nearby. It wasn't long ago at all that they were running free in fields like that, so they recognize the faint smell in the air and know it will lead to a place like their wonderful Home. They begin to bark louder. They howl and scratch and whine and throw themselves against the walls over and over. They can smell Home! It's just outside the walls! And they're not gonna stop until they get there again.

Well, the first group of dogs, exhausted and sad and sick and miserable, get totally fed up with all the barking and scratching and fighting and whining, and muster up just enough strength and motivation to attack the new dogs, trying to beat them into submission so they can get a little peace again. But the new dogs are stronger and absolutely will not be dissuaded from their quest for Home.

The researchers, not wanting the second group of dogs to upset the first group and incite a true revolt, develop a drug. It's called Prozac, and it makes the second group of dogs more content with their environment. They forget to want anything better than what they have. This amazing wonder-drug induces artificial serenity and stops the second group of dogs from trying so hard to get Hom

We're the doggies. We've been carefully and intentionally manipulated, conditioned, trained, cowed, humiliated, and intimidated into not reacting to injustice and suffering. We've been taught not to complain and not to believe in our ability to change things when we are unhappy with them. We've been told we will be happier if we just leave things the way they are, that change would just bring about more pain.

We've been taught not only that the other side of the pen is just as painful as this side, but that we'll be humiliated, ostracized, and otherwise punished if we even try to jump that fence.

The Indigos

And then we have the Indigos. They're different. They're new here, and they don't react to things like most people do.

You see, the Indigos are a new group of doggies. They haven't been living through the floor experiment. They've come from a place where doggies run free in grassy fields full of toys and happy playmates. Where they're provided with all kinds of wonderful, interesting, delicious and nutritious food to eat, and soft, comfy cushions to sleep on when they're tired. Where the sky stays clear and the temperature is just right, and there's always a new hollow log to explore, a new trail to follow, a new smell on the air to investigate.

And now they awake to find themselves in a strange, small, ugly, featureless cage with a weird floor. The first thing they notice is they no longer have the freedom they once had. There are walls here, made of steel, and they can only walk around in a small area. They can't see the sky anymore either, just a dull painted ceiling. The lovely smells are gone, there's no soft grass, and the food is odd and bland and doesn't make them feel very good. No soft, fluffy cushions here, either, and their playmates are sullen, cowering, fearful balls of patchy fur that barely whimper when approached.

These new doggies react to their new environment in shock and dismay, and begin scratching at the floor and walls, jumping and whining and barking. They howl miserably, and nip at the other occupants of the cage, trying to get a response out of them. They begin to fight amongst themselves out of anger, fear, and frustration, and soon the floor is streaked with blood.

But these doggies are different in other ways as well. Their sense of smell is much more acute than that of the first group of doggies. And through the steel walls, they catch the scent of a field nearby. It wasn't long ago at all that they were running free in fields like that, so they recognize the faint smell in the air and know it will lead to a place like their wonderful Home. They begin to bark louder. They howl and scratch and whine and throw themselves against the walls over and over. They can smell Home! It's just outside the walls! And they're not gonna stop until they get there again.

Well, the first group of dogs, exhausted and sad and sick and miserable, get totally fed up with all the barking and scratching and fighting and whining, and muster up just enough strength and motivation to attack the new dogs, trying to beat them into submission so they can get a little peace again. But the new dogs are stronger and absolutely will not be dissuaded from their quest for Home.

The researchers, not wanting the second group of dogs to upset the first group and incite a true revolt, develop a drug. It's called Prozac, and it makes the second group of dogs more content with their environment. They forget to want anything better than what they have. This amazing wonder-drug induces artificial serenity and stops the second group of dogs from trying so hard to get Hom

And now they awake to find themselves in a strange, small, ugly, featureless cage with a weird floor. The first thing they notice is they no longer have the freedom they once had. There are walls here, made of steel, and they can only walk around in a small area. They can't see the sky anymore either, just a dull painted ceiling. The lovely smells are gone, there's no soft grass, and the food is odd and bland and doesn't make them feel very good. No soft, fluffy cushions here, either, and their playmates are sullen, cowering, fearful balls of patchy fur that barely whimper when approached.

These new doggies react to their new environment in shock and dismay, and begin scratching at the floor and walls, jumping and whining and barking. They howl miserably, and nip at the other occupants of the cage, trying to get a response out of them. They begin to fight amongst themselves out of anger, fear, and frustration, and soon the floor is streaked with blood.

But these doggies are different in other ways as well. Their sense of smell is much more acute than that of the first group of doggies. And through the steel walls, they catch the scent of a field nearby. It wasn't long ago at all that they were running free in fields like that, so they recognize the faint smell in the air and know it will lead to a place like their wonderful Home. They begin to bark louder. They howl and scratch and whine and throw themselves against the walls over and over. They can smell Home! It's just outside the walls! And they're not gonna stop until they get there again.

Well, the first group of dogs, exhausted and sad and sick and miserable, get totally fed up with all the barking and scratching and fighting and whining, and muster up just enough strength and motivation to attack the new dogs, trying to beat them into submission so they can get a little peace again. But the new dogs are stronger and absolutely will not be dissuaded from their quest for Home.

The researchers, not wanting the second group of dogs to upset the first group and incite a true revolt, develop a drug. It's called Prozac, and it makes the second group of dogs more content with their environment. They forget to want anything better than what they have. This amazing wonder-drug induces artificial serenity and stops the second group of dogs from trying so hard to get Hom

Well, the first group of dogs, exhausted and sad and sick and miserable, get totally fed up with all the barking and scratching and fighting and whining, and muster up just enough strength and motivation to attack the new dogs, trying to beat them into submission so they can get a little peace again. But the new dogs are stronger and absolutely will not be dissuaded from their quest for Home.

The researchers, not wanting the second group of dogs to upset the first group and incite a true revolt, develop a drug. It's called Prozac, and it makes the second group of dogs more content with their environment. They forget to want anything better than what they have. This amazing wonder-drug induces artificial serenity and stops the second group of dogs from trying so hard to get Home. It dulls their sense of smell and makes them just not care anymore, and they lie down and eat their bland food calmly, and curl up on the hard floor and sleep for hours at a time, finally quiet.

Thank God, think the first groups of dogs. Now we can finally get some peace around here again and rest our frazzled, fried bodies and minds.

And that's when the researchers turn on the war...I mean, floor.

But at the same time, animal liberation activists have pried open the door on the other side of the pen. And that door leads out into a hall, which leads to another open door, which leads out into a parking lot, which is bordered by a low fence, and on the other side of that fence is a huge, grassy field full of hollow logs and streams of pure water, and all kinds of interesting food, and soft, comfy cushions to sleep on.

The animal liberation activists are hoping that the second group of doggies, who have not yet been conditioned to believe that jumping the low fence will only lead to another electrified floor, will leap right up and over, and that the first group of doggies will see that and follow them. And that once they all get over to the other side, they'll see the open door. And they know that the second group of doggies will fearlessly bound through it, smelling Home just outside, and they're hoping that despite their fearfullness, the first group of dogs will follow, and that soon they'll all be in the field chasing butterflies.

But most of the second group of doggies, drugged into submission, just lie there and whimper as they're zapped, just like the first group. A couple get up and pace around, yelping and whining, and then they finally jump the fence and find the way out. But the rest of the dogs, both the first and second group, ignore them or assume they're dead and don't even attempt to follow their lead. The remainders from the second group do yelp a little louder, and because they haven't learned not to they do get up and pace a little, looking for a way out, but the chemicals in their systems dull their pain and their sense of urgency, so they finally just lie back down and take it, chowing down a little Zanax provided by the researchers to calm their anxiety.

That's our country, people. That's where we're at right now. The floor is electrified, and our Indigos are offered a dozen new prescriptions every week to combat their anxiety and depression, so that rather than showing us how to jump the fence and bound through the door, down the hall, into the parking lot, over the other fence and into the field, they're sullenly snapping at us and at each other, often killing themselves and occasionally killing each other. Only a few ever make it over the fence themselves, and by then they're so terrorized by their experiences on the first side of the pen that they rarely come back to show others the way out, and when they do, they just get snapped at until they go away again.

Sad freakin' predicament, isn't it? But the answer is simple. And Indigos have lots of it.

Anger.

Okay, here's the thing. Depression is what keeps us from making this world a better a place. It keeps us just barely functioning, in a perpetual state of disappointment and fear, and dulls our lives to a sullen gray void. And our entire nation is experiencing an epidemic of it.

What most people don't know, and what the 'researchers' don't want us to know, is that depression is anger that is denied, repressed, and turned inward. We beat the anger out of ourselves and condition ourselves not to want anything anymore, becoming more and more tolerant of intolerable situations. And because it serves the interests of those whose goal is to maintain the status quo, rather than being taught to express our anger and thus move toward change, we're offered a new medication every other day that's designed to help us numb out to it.

In other words, we're not depressed, we're angry as hell!

And Indigos are even MORE angry, both because it's our JOB to be angry because the others have forgotten how to, and because we KNOW it can be SO much better than this!

We have GOT to stop taking all the drugs, prescribed and recreational, that numb us out to our natural reactions to an increasingly intolerable situation! We MUST get in touch with our RAGE! We MUST feel the righteous anger over the constant barrage of poisons, most of them very intentional, in our food, water, and air! We have to allow ourselves to experience the justified fury at the constant intimidation, manipulation, and disrespect we get from our government and educational system, and we absolutely MUST acknowledge the horrifying injustice of the totally unequal distribution of wealth and power in this country!

The damned fence isn't even THERE, people! It never was! They just made you believe it was, taking away bits and pieces of your freedom day by day, year by year, piece by piece until you eventually forget you ever