The most surprising thing about revisiting this topic is how easy it is to fill up the pages. I know you’re on the edge of your seat, so here we go…
Businessmen who have, “special pens”. C’mon, really? Just how special are they? If you need a special pen to complete a business task, you had better start evaluating your role in whatever business you’re in.
People driving who are tailgating me at 5:30…in the morning. Just how bad is your life that you’re already rushing to get ahead at that time of the day? I’ve moved on from anger to pity for these lost souls. Oh, and on those two lane highways, next time you’re behind a white pickup truck, that’s me, going extra slowly, just to aggravate you.
Toll takers who (don’t suggest), but TELL me to, “Have a blessed day”. This actually just happened to me yesterday. All I want to say is, E Z Pass doesn’t give a flying fart about the amount of religion in my day.
Racists whose main defense is, “I’m not a racist”. This is usually immediately followed by, “I had a black friend back in 1983, remember?” Choose one…you’re either a racist or a member of the human race.
Men whose cars are cleaner than their teeth. Listen, no one, and I mean no one, cares that you can eat dinner off of the hood of your car. It’s a car. Try applying the same vigor and OCD to your personal hygiene.
The guy who mows his lawn…three times a week, You need to accept that it is okay to have one blade of grass be slightly higher that the blade alongside of it. Try taking down at least one of the 14 American flags on your property while you’re at it.
Tiny women driving large SUVs. I know, a classic, but it never goes out of style. If you want to start with the trigger that started the downfall of mankind, this is as good a reason as any.
Undertakers who smile…showing their teeth.
People who say, “shoot” instead of shit, and “fudge” instead of fuck. You’re not kidding anyone. When you’re alone, and you drop the plate of pasta all over the cat, we KNOW what’s coming out of your mouth. And so does Jesus.
Marie Osmond. Does that really require any clarification?
Anyone watching the Lifetime Channel who has not yet suffered a nervous breakdown.
And, by connection, anyone hired to write a Lifetime Channel movie script. Can’t we have just one of these suburban widows die at the end instead of finding true love with the pool cleaning guy?
And you’ll notice I’m not going for any of the low hanging political fruit here. Which, by my last measurement, is about half way to China by now.
Which reminds me, the neighbor who strolls by as you’re digging a trench on your property and remarks, “You’re about half way to China by now”. Or the even crasser remark of, “Hey, don’t think the Mrs. will fit in there, you’ll have to dig a little deeper”. Hmmm, yes, just a little deeper, you’re right, get in there and let’s try it on for size.
People who complain about the heat in the summer, and then the cold in the winter. You can’t have both. Pick one and go with it. Besides, pretty soon, you’ll only have one to complain about anyway.
By connection, the morons, who on a cool day in June, exclaim, “Global warming…what global warming?” These are the people we hope are the first to be incinerated when the shoot hits the fan.
Joel Osteen. Again, no explanation required.
People who reach for the phone after viewing the commercial for “Phone Psychics”. “The best reading I ever had!” Go to a book store. Go to the old people section. Find a Webster’s dictionary. Look up the word : desperation. Read the description. Move on with your life.
Doctors who like to be referred to by their first name, like, “Dr. Matt” or, “Dr. Jim”. To patients that are over four years old. I’ve got a better name for you…Dr. Dick.
And finally, last word freak texters. You know the ones:
Them : Thank you
You: You’re welcome
Them: Much appreciated
You: My pleasure
Them: C U Later
You: Okay
Them: Okay, bye-bye
You: Please die already
I know, harsh. But in this world of annoyance, no remark is unwarranted.
Often, when I sit down to blog I have a specific agenda. But other times, like this morning, I roll out of bed at 5:30, let the dog out back to pee, feed the cat, and sit down and just start typing. Inspirational, huh?
That often results in a mish-mosh of various thoughts and suggestions which I will now dispense, as Lilith put it so well, “from my psychiatric Pez dispenser”.
You have to guess what that reference is from, and the title as well. If you’re one of the 18 people who read my book, then you already know the first.
It’s been a sweltering summer. Good for us because we’re fortunate enough to have an in ground pool. Why is it, that when people reach a specific age, they stop swimming? I mean I can count on one hand, the number of people we know over 55 who simply won’t swim anymore. Do we really suffer from that level of body shame? Sure everything has shifted. Parts of us are now in different zip codes. Our skin resembles a dirty rag that fell under the work bench in the shed…in 1994. And the…oh, crap, I had better put the pool cover on for the season.
Not far behind are the people, after a certain age, who no longer go to the movies. Except of course to the Bryn Mawr Film Institute, where on any given Saturday evening, the average age of the moviegoer is 84 years, 6 months and 5 days. And oh, the colors of the wardrobe.
I just put on my two new bumper stickers. Number one is “Make Racism wrong again. Unfit to serve. Unfit for humanity”. The second reads, “Some say we need a Revolution. I’d settle for a little evolution”. I urge all of you to go to the “Make Stickers” website and order your own version of protest. And if you’re like me, they also help to cover up unwanted rust stains. I wonder if we could use those on our bodies? Hmm, there’s an idea, body bumper stickers? They already have them you nitwit, they’re called tattoos.
Shouldn’t we have a greater distinction between the guy (or gal) who operates on us and those who clean the floors in the hospital? I mean, I’m at my local Wawa in the morning, across from Bryn Mawr Hospital, and everyone is wearing scrubs. But the same scrubs. Shouldn’t it be like Star Trek? A different color for each pay grade? Doctors wear blue, nurses orange, custodians red?
If you’re like me, and let’s face it none of you are, you’re disgusted with the deluge of cancer commercials and drug commercials. Whatever happened to the age old adage of, “Suffering in Silence”? I get it, it’s good to have awareness, to bring people out of the shadows, have them seek treatment and be healthier. But if I have to see Cyndi Lauper and her skin-diseased friends one more time I’m gonna put my foot threw the television.
Now there’s a saying we rarely hear anymore. Back in, “the day”, all TV’s were consoles, and they all sat on the floor. So, in theory, it didn’t take much to put your foot through the TV. Except that the glass was about two inches thick. Now, at my age, in order to put my foot through the TV, like if I’m somewhere that has Fox News on, first I have to get it off of the wall, onto the floor, and…well, it’s just not worth it, right? I’m too tired.
I’ve recently turned 59 and…well, that’s so nice of you to say, I’ don’t look anywhere near that old. I’m proud to admit that I still read the funnies. You know, the comics (for those of you under 40). You know, you know, those funny blurbs in the newspaper. You know, those things they still print that tells you what’s going on in the world. Oh, just forget it…go back to your Kindle.
Isn’t it nice, after someone has a yard sale, that they then have a large pile of crap sitting on their curb, with a well-fashioned sign, in scribbly magic marker reading, “Free Junk”. What they’re actually telling you is, “Here, we have a bunch of crap leftover that we don’t want to lug back into the house. And we certainly don’t want to pay for a dumpster or to have anyone come and haul away our trash. Would anyone be so kind as to do it for us…free of charge?” Why is it, that when something is free, it suddenly becomes more appealing? “I dunno honey, I think if I fill that crack with putty, add a fourth leg and re-stain it, this end table might be worth saving”.
Do you think St. Patrick authorized the morphed version of, “St. Pattys Day”? St. Patrick was a guy, right? So, how many Patrick’s do you know that like to be called Patty? And for brevity sake, it’s still the same number of syllables. I mean, no one say’s “St. Pat’s Day”. I realize its all a bunch of malarkey anyway. Now there’s a word we don’t use nearly enough. Anyway, I wish there was a modern day St. Pat around to drive all of the snakes out of this country. And take their hate and their beat up pick up trucks with them.
Okay, it’s 6:15…time to grab coffee at Wawa for the Mrs and get started on my day. Whatever your day looks like, and this is the epitome of Lifetime channel speak, make it a good day. Compliment someone. Grab a newspaper and spit on Trump’s photo (hey that always give’s my spirits a boost, although it freaks out the clerks at Wawa). Order an anti-anything bumper sticker. Write an op-ed piece to your local paper. And don’t seek happiness. Be happy.
Okay, the title is from the Odd Couple (TV version) and Lilith, of course, from season one of Fraiser.
I suppose it’s to be expected. Approaching sixty. Hair thinning. Waistline expanding. You run out and buy a sporty new 2019 red converti…wait, that’s not what’s happening here.
For the past five and a half years I’ve been partners with a 2008 Toyota Tacoma. With all apologies to Detroit, it’s the pickup I always dreamed of driving. When she and I got together she was already six years old. She had more than a few miles on her. But we made an agreement never to discuss our former owners.
Nearly six years later we’re still together. She’s got about 220,000 on her odometer, and truth be told, I’m not far behind that.
But I’ve made a decision. In December, when the last payment is made, we’re sticking together. Whether I purchase another Prius or even a scooter to get around the neighborhood in, Miss TT will be be sticking around. Okay, you can stop fake gagging, I just made that nickname up.
I know what you’re thinking…a three way? Me and two other vehicles? Perhaps. I’m still exploring. Even growing a mustache.
Look, she’s been there with me through difficult times. And for the most part, she’s held up her end of the deal. Does her “check engine” light flash a little more than I’d like? Sure. Does she have a few more dents and dings than she used to? We both do. But every morning I step inside, turn the key, and she purrs…well, maybe not like a kitten, but at least like our cat Sophie…when I’ve accidentally stepped on her tail.
No, she doesn’t have built in GPS. Or Sirius. Or heated seats. Or even a hands free system. She’s a hands on type of gal. And, at time, you need two fir hands on her just to keep her in lane…or, line. And her fuel gauge has been out of commission for some time so I travel with a container of gas in the back seat, just in case. Just like me travelling with a defib case…you never know, right?
Earlier this year on a claim assignment in upstate Pennsylvania, she got stuck in a ditch and had to be pulled out. It was close quarters and the tow guy had to use a chain on her rear bumper which bent upwards, out of joint, facing the sky. I remember getting home and then having to use a pry bar to bend the bumper back into reasonable shape (she never liked going to the body shop). It was like popping back into place the dislocated shoulder of a person. I could feel her pain.
We made it through that crisis, and several others. She continues to proudly display any radical bumper stickers I place upon her, without any feedback. I know she’s a loyal Democrat, but never realized she was pro-firearms.
I realized that getting something newer, shinier, faster…that wouldn’t make me feel one day younger. Growing older together seems just right.
And I’m not unrealistic. I know there will come a day when I’ll have to put her down. But I am making provisions…in the event she outlives me. Mrs. Duffy won’t be happy about that, but I believe her bed will make a nice planter in the front garden, don’t you?
We’ve had over 100,000 of memories together. We lugged furniture, mulch, trees, stone and dirt. I’ve even loaned her out on more than a few occasions to allow others to use her (yes, I felt quite dirty and cheap about that). But I never charged so I’m far from being a pimp.
It seems we’re destined to be joined at the bumper for a while longer. And even though both of our doors creak when we first get started, when we get our second wind and we’re headed down the highway, we’ve still got it. And we’ve both got a spare tire, so we’re ready for anything (I’m not sure but mine may finally be bigger than hers).
I will admit, from time to time my head does get turned. That ad for the new VW Bus, coming out in two years. That had me drooling a bit. But I think of me, inside that shiny, fuel efficient vehicle, and it seems like we just wouldn’t fit together.
To set the record straight I was raised Catholic. By that, I mean, we lived in a Catholic parish, attended Catholic school, went to church on Sundays (most Sundays), and like most of the other weak-minded flock, we were led to believe the members of the church were nothing short of deities.
Of course, you grow older, supposedly wiser, and realize all of that is bullshit. In the end you weren’t being taught faith. And it wasn’t a better way of life. The Catholic Church was, and is, a business. Run by men, who sought control and wealth.
Were there good and decent priests who did, “God’s work?” Certainly. I was exposed (ooh, bad choice of words) to many of them. But, as we have come to learn, this was a mob not unlike the more famous mob, that would say and do anything to protect their evil empire.
Over the past two decades the facade of that empire has come crumbling down, amidst the revelations of the decades of sexual abuse that made we wish I wasn’t an altar boy, but perhaps, a Boy Scout all those years (wait, what am I saying)???
So here we are, 2019, and the church is trying to stave off financial ruin, and keep what meager flock they have together, and you have an idiot in the form of Mr. Chaput. I won’t lower myself to give him whatever stupid title he holds.
In the wake of the latest mass shooting in this country, under boss Chaput exclaims, “You’re a fool, if you thing stronger gun laws will reduce gun violence”.
Wait a moment…think about that.
I left that last paragraph as I did to give us all a moment to ponder. Because he did say that. A member of the clergy. Yes, a laughing stock clergy, but, an entity still. Did he have too much of the sacrificial wine? Was his stupid hat on a bit too tight?
If ever a statement smelled of political and social brother-in-lawness, that was it. Can you say Republicans and NRA? By all means, please do. What this is, sorry to say, is that the church is so desperate, they will take whatever lifelines they have left, and they will hitch their three-wheeled wagon to whomever will pull them along. And Chaput, he’s no more decent a person that Capone or Gotti. In some ways, he’s even worse. Because he speaks to you out of both ends of his vestments.
A group that should be concentrating on cleaning their own house is more concerned with telling America how not to handle gun control. Let’s hope that when the shit hits the fan socially in this country that the likes of Chaput…are finally kaput.
I will never quite understand why, in 2019, large masses of people will continue not only to cling to, but to support an organization that has repeatedly deceived them for their own financial gain. Can’t you have faith without lies? Conviction without convictions? For those steadfast in your support of these monsters, I hope you can sleep at night, before you eventually take your forever sleep.
I am steadfast in my belief that when all of us close our eyes for the final time we will all gather in the same place. The universe of nothingness. I get it, that is too much for most people to accept. They need something more to cling to when this world of uncertainty gets to them. That is understandable, although short-lived…as we all are. Isn’t it better to live a good life while we’re here…because it’s the right thing to do? And that includes putting the likes of Chaput out of business, and into the real working world for a change?
Wait, the working world that the rest of us are mostly engaged in, and which many of you use to give thugs like him the Life of Riley?
It’s bad enough we have political leaders who are fools. We don’t need religious leaders playing political leaders who are fools. And what we need the least are fools supporting them.
JOIN THE DEMAND THE BAN MARCH IN PHILADELPHIA TOMORROW, MONDAY, AUGUST 12TH! Check out the Delco United for Sensible Gun Policy website for details.
In the aftermath of tragedy in two parts of our country, we were presented yesterday with a form of entertainment. It was, literally, a dog and pony show with President Dog Face front and center, trying to give the American public, normally a pretty savvy bunch, the idea that he really gives a damn about what happened, and worse, that he intends to do anything about it.
In actuality, let’s envision the conversation that really took place. For brevity sake, from this point forward, the Presidential Chief of Staff will be referred to as, “COS”, and President Dog Face as, “PDF”,
COS: C’mon, sir, we have to get off of the plane.
PDF: But I don’t wanna. There’s probably gonna be blood and other icky things down there.
COS: Sir, what did I tell you…it’s gonna be election time soon. The people need to see you have real feelings about this.
PDF: I do, I do. I don’t wanna go. That’s my feeling. Let’s go back to that place where all the people call me, “Mr” and cheer and clap for me, and give me money.
COS: We will sir, but first, we have to do this. Here, let me straighten your tie and adjust your garter belt sir.
As they descend the steps of the plane…
PDF: Oh, no, I’m not going down there! There’s a lot of people holding signs and yelling things at me. Ducks? Why are they yelling about ducks?
COS: No, sir, they’re just saying they….like…ducks too.
PDF: Wait a minute…that sign has a picture of me. And it makes me look fat. I’m not fat, am I? I can’t read but that sign suggests… I design? Am I am designer?
COS: C’mon sir, we’re going in the big black car to meet some nice people.
PDF: (As they pull up to the first site). You can’t make me go out there, you can’t. I’m powerful. You can’t do it. You’re fired! Ha Ha Ha. remember, I used to do that, on the TV show, remember, you’re fired. Ha Ha.
COS: (pulling back the front of PDF’s hair, forcing him to look into the mirror). Look at this, you twit! This is the REAL YOU! Now start crying and get out of this car.
PDF: (sniffling, unbuckling his child safety seat) You are so mean. I’m gonna find a new best buddy.
PDF emerges from the vehicle, sniffling. The people cheer…”Look, he DOES care…what a guy!”
COS: See sir, they love you. What did I tell you.
PDF: You better hope my hair doesn’t blow up in the wind you idiot. Wait, who are these people?
COS: They are some of the victim’s families, sir. Remember I told you they might be here.
PDF: I don’t wanna see them. Some of them are crying. And wait, some of them (whispering)…aren’t…like us.
COS: It’s okay sir, just act like you do back home in the round room. Just pretend, like you’re the one actually doing things.
PDF proceeds through the ranks, like a receiving line in a funeral parlor. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m very sorry…Yes, sorry for your loss…please vote for me in 2020…do these pants make my ass look big?”
COS: Okay sir, time to go.
PDF: No, wait, they’re getting to my favorite part. Someone just brought in some donuts. Mmmm, I love those creme-filled ones…ooh, and the jelly.
COS: Sir, we have those on the plane for you.
PDF: What? Where?
COS: We only bring them out when you’re throwing a tantrum sir.
PDF: You are mean. A real meanie. Just a guy who is…mean.
PDF waves from the plane as he steps aboard.
PDF: Thank God that’s over. Can we go home now?
COS: No sir, we have another town to visit.
PDF: (Taking off his tie) No, no. That’s it. Tell the plane driver I wanna go back home.
COS: Stewardess, the stash of donuts please…
For those of you interested, on the heels of these real tragedies, a March is taking place at 11am in Philadelphia supported by Delco United for Sensible Gun Policy (and others). Please visit their website and offer your support, or better yet, come out and let your voice be heard!
We recently returned from our annual vacation to Lake Placid, New York. We’ve traveled there now at least 15 seasons in a row and the peacefulness seems to fill us with a happiness and hope that sustains us for the other fifty-one weeks of the year.
So, what awaits us upon our return, aside from long grass and a pool filled with leaves? Some generous person placed two, “Trump 2020” stickers on our property, one onto our mailbox, and the other, most appropriately, on our, “Hate has no Home here” sign, on our front lawn.
Initially, I couldn’t figure out what bothered me more. That someone had actually done this, or that it was was someone that we possibly knew, who waited until we were on vacation, stopping in the middle of the night to perform their dirty deed.
Look, we all know that there are Trump supporters out there, right? I mean, the lowlife is in office for Christ’s sake. But among US? Walking where we walk, talking where we talk? Can it be?
The cowards who performed this act are just that…cowards. Like most of their unpatriots, they hide in the shadows. Unlike we Democrats, who put on bumper stickers and lawn signs to TELL people how we feel, these snakes slither about without trying to ruffle too many feathers, for fear it might cost them a few fringe friends…or even worse, cost them business.
For example, I drank Yuengling beer exclusively for 30 years before I learned they were financially supporting the Dark Side in 2016. I haven’t touched a bottle of their product since. Nor will I ever again.
It’s like when you casually peer into the window of a neighbor’s home, only to see Fox News blaring on the television. Suddenly, you realize…”Oh, we are busy on the day of their BBQ. We’ll have to miss that”.
Sometimes it’s easy to tell who the enemy is. Big gates around the property, flag flying on the front wall, Hummer in the driveway. But often, its more subtle, concealed. They want to avoid getting, “the look”, or worse, the response…”You voted for WHO? Ugh!”
The vandals in this case were probably kids, or worse, one of their right wing parents. The people who spout that the country is being kept safe from evil. Meanwhile, the old USA is about as far down on the totem pole of humanity as they can go right now, so much so that we’re literally sinking into the dirt. NO matter. We’ll bounce back, whether it’s in a year or five years. Ignorance and stupidity can only take you so far.
As Democrats, we’re proud to say who we are, and what we support. We enjoy our social and moral superiority, because we are, of course, superior. We have made the right choice. We can sleep at night. What do they have? Their hidden agendas? Their big pile of money and stuff (which, by the way, I’ve checked and you can’t actually take any of that shit in the casket with you after your heart explodes in your chest).
I enjoy the fact that we’re right and not THE right. And as much as I am resigned to the fact that we have to endure another 15 months of, “Make America Stupid Again”, every day I am glad, that like Luke Skywalker, we will never turn to the dark side.
So, to the overnight evildoers, next time you decide to visit us, do it in the light of day. I realize the daylight could kill you, according to popular myths, but give it a try. Express an opinion. State a fact (not a Fox News fact, a real fact). Maybe we can reach common ground. And if not, at least we’ll know who you are. And be careful to avoid your property and your business.
Well, thought you had gotten rid of me that quickly? Okay, I’ll have to admit even I thought I was done.
Here’s how bad it was going at the time I stopped blogging. I was the only person who realized I had stopped blogging.
Starting up again is not like riding a bike. Except for the chafing. And I am wearing bicycle shorts. Although our dog Murphy has no idea why. He’s cowering in the corner as we speak.
Deciding to return to blogging, it helps if you actually have an original idea and I would hope over the past few months I would have acquired at least that.
So I turned 59 yesterday. What can be said positive about turning 59? My wife is 60? That’s about it.
So far this has been, basically, the summer of Duffy. I have, to put it mildly, let myself go. That’s bad when you consider I was pretty far gone to begin with. All in all it’s not that bad. I still have a few clothes that fit me and my dark tan hides a few of the body rolls. But September will be just around the corner and there’s always time to get into better shape just before the holidays and…oh, forget it.
Of course, now I make my promise to keep this blog, light, humorous, non-political….oh that F&%#(@ Trump!!! Okay, now I feel much better.
Let’s forget about all of that as I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that we’re going to have endure this freak show for another 5 plus years. But, stranger things have happened…such as in November of 2016. Well, as Estelle Larson once famously said, “I can hope against hope”. If you can guess that movie and it’s star you win a free guest subject appearance in my next blog.
Speaking of movies, if you haven’t seen it, go and see, “Yesterday”. Even if you’re not a big fan of the Beatles (and if so, what IS wrong with you?) you’ll enjoy it. And if you are a big fan of the Beatles, you’ll love it.
Going to cut short our return blog before I say something that will offend the masses. And of course I refer to the tumors…as there would be no other masses paying attention to this blog. And for all of you tumors out there (or in there as the case may be), please continue to grow very slowly. I like it here.
Let me leave you with this thought. Domino’s is now offering “replacement insurance” on any pizzas purchased, then damaged, for example, dropped into a sewer or run over by a UPS truck. My question is, how can they tell the difference? Exactly what is their level of quality control when it comes to their pizzas even making it out of their shop in the first place?
Just a few nights ago I participated in a debate about gun violence and the issue of, “middle ground” came up. The middle ground in question being that between those committed to ending senseless gun violence and those who wear their 2nd Amendment rights like a badge of honor.
It was suggested that there is very little middle ground between these two factions. But honestly, I believe the middle ground that exists there is as wide as the Grand Canyon.
Everyone agrees something needs to be done to end senseless gun violence. Stolen guns being used in drug deals. Minors finding loaded guns in the house and using them to shoot other minors. People wielding assault weapons to kill dozens of innocent victims. Street crime, suicides…the list goes on and on.
Where do we begin?
A good place to start is to bring each faction in this discussion to the table. And it is a discussion, not an argument or a debate.
No one wants to take away the rights of our citizens to own firearms if it done in a legal and responsible manner. But gun advocates want to know what the end game is. Extending background checks? Denying guns to convicted felons and abusers? Removing firearms from those considered mentally ill or a threat to themselves…or others? Banning assault weapons? Their fear is that once the laws start tipping in this direction, they will begin to lose more and more rights as gun owners.
An end game needs to be established. As to where the argument ends. To where we want to get to, then stop. Once that happens then a lot of people on the pro-gun side will agree to come over to the other side.
I firmly believe that most gun owners want better gun laws. To protect the majority of our citizens. Laws that reflect upon them as responsible gun owners. It’s the job of those arguing for safer gun laws to explain this to them and bring them over to the other side. Only with great numbers, banging down the doors of the politicians like Pat Toomey, will change be effected.
Forget about groups like the NRA. The people in control of groups like that will never change. Like the KKK they see only their side of the issue. And that is, about money, power and control.
If shouldn’t take another mass shooting to bring this argument to light. And events like Parkland or Sandy Hook should not need to be made the face of this issue. It should be a simple statement…that every citizen in this country has the right to grow up and to live in a safe community.
There will always be hate. As well, there will always be evil, whether driven by mental instability or not. But the amount of injury and death that can be inflicted with a firearm and without is again as wide as that Grand Canyon.
It is incumbent among every one of us involved in this debate to reach across to the other side and bring to light that, “middle ground”, the one we know most of us share. Only then, when we have a great majority, will real change happen. This is not a political issue. It’s not a racial issue, nor one of gender. It is a moral issue. Do we want to give a safer world to our children and grandchildren?
Join the discussion today. Join groups like Delco United or the hundreds of others like it and make your voice heard. Luckily, this is not a fight that is ever too late to join. Whether you have ever been touched by gun violence or not, you have a voice in this issue. Because if not now, then the odds say that someday, you or someone you know will be the victim of a gun-related crime. Before that happens, let your voice be heard.
I once wrote a list of the top ten best things about winter, after you turn fifty. That list was blank. I have tried, in the past eight years, to find a good reason to amend that list. That hasn’t happened. Wednesday morning, at 6:30, I was walking around the track at Haverford College, dressed in about 6 layers. It was three degrees. And I thought, “This is how the Wooly Mammoths lived”. And they’re extinct. And I’m on my way.
If you’re like me, you have a bedroom closet, and you probably have about six feet, or seventy-two inches of hanging space. But ninety-nine percent of everything I wear on a weekly basis comes from a nine inch space on that closet rod. Same thing with my dresser drawers. Boy, am I getting old.
Why is it, that aside from the infrequent weddings we attend, we never have the opportunity to put something, or someone, “asunder”? There are plenty of things to put asunder in our everyday lives. There are poker pots, pizzas, lottery winnings. But they all end up being split, or divided. Lets work hard to try and bring asunder back into the limelight.
This week, for those of you who were not yet familiar with him, the world was introduced to Roger Stone. This is a man with a tattoo of Richard Nixon’s face on his back, and who is proud of the fact that he is close, close friends with President Tanghead. I’ve tried for the past three days to come up with something witty or clever about that. But I’m not that smart…or funny. It made me realize the Republicans plan headed towards 2020. To put someone into the limelight so utterly ridiculous and unbelievable so as to make Trump appear to be actually human. Not a bad strategy when you think about it.
There’s a push going to make Election Day in this country a national holiday. I have been touting this concept for years, as has many like-minded people. With all due respect to Presidents Day, and Columbus Day, doesn’t it make the itty-bittiest of sense to allow everyone to have off on a day to elect the people who are to run our country? Of course, there are a large group of people opposed to this idea. Think about who those people are and why they are against the idea. And that about sums up the terrible world we live in.
Let me close with this. Groundhog Day. A stupid, stupid idea, celebrated by thousands of inebriated people, which eventually led to a pretty funny movie. Perhaps that means that somewhere in the future this current political term will bring some laughs to another generation. Let’s hope that Bill Murray isn’t too old to star in the damn thing.
We have a revolting, evil, creep of a human being as the current president of these formerly United States.
One of the true benefits of growing older is that if you feel that way, as I do, you can state very plainly and very loudly your opinion on the matter and if someone is offended, simply tell them, “tough shit”, and go about your day.
Yes, statements such as these lessen the number of Christmas cards you receive each year. It reduces by about half the number of parties you get invited to. But most importantly, it improves the quality of your life. How? Because every moment of your life, every interaction, becomes real.
I started despising Donald Trump, back in the 1980’s. Whether I saw him on television or read something about him in the papers, the same thought always came to mind. “What a horses ass this guy is”. Many years, many failed businesses, and many less hairs have only reinforced that what I felt in my 20’s has turned out to be true. A despicable human being is a despicable human being, maybe older, fatter, and balder, but you can’t hide the truth.
So how exactly did such a human cancer become president? The sad truth is that this country is now occupied by many, many more sick and revolting people. People who now have an ally in their hatred. A focus for their lot in life. That if nothing else, they can say, “Yeah, he gets it”. You seem them at the rallies. Obese, wearing sweatshirts…always wearing sweatshirts. Have you ever seen any of these people wearing button down shirts? Of course not, too difficult.
And what does their compatriot in hate share with them? Hmm, let’s see. For those born poor and struggling, he was born to wealth. For those who served honorably, he avoided that entire situation. He has, in fact, nothing in common with the common man. Except, perhaps, hatred. Hatred of those different from him and who pose a threat to him.
The human race has had its moments in the past. The Crusades. The witch hunts (the real ones). Germany in the 1930’s and 1940’s. The south in the 1960’s. But, weren’t we supposed to be evolving? Suppose not. Like our planet, Mother Earth, we seem to be devolving. And coming undone. Perhaps it’s only fitting that both the human race and the world it inhabits may be coming to an end at the same moment in time. Maybe it is fitting that in order for this thing to be president, the human race has outlived its usefulness.
Every time I begin to have some measure of hope, this piece of trash opens his vile mouth. Or a slime ball like Roger Stone seeps out of the woodwork and we can’t believe, here we are again.
I’ve said it before, it’s easy to blame the dregs of the world, the Trumps, the Bannons, the Stones. But far, far worse are the everyday “decent” people who fall into line. For their party. For money. Or just because it’s easier for them to point blame and hate than it is to accept the truth. Maybe I am the one at fault. The one who needs to change.
I’m happy to distance myself from those living in today’s world who refuse to stand up, speak out and pick a side. The only side. The side of right. The side of fairness. The side of humanity. Whether I’ve known you for 5 minutes of fifty years, if you refuse to stand up, then get the hell out of my way. I’ve got nothing for you but pity.
Trapped in a Happy Life 