What I Remember

Fiddling, dawdling, wasting time, procrastinating.  Can’t do it.   Even when I am trying to do any of those things I am being bombarded by images and words that set my mind on fire.   I picture those little fibers on the endings of my nerves getting ready to fire across that little void to accelerate a thought through my mind and body and I wonder why they are not all burning up and shriveling and crumbling to ash.  How can I think at all?  It is like the worst construction caused traffic jam on Route 45 that you could ever imagine topped by the dude on the motor cycle weaving through and giving everyone the finger.  Where is my gun?

From facebook and the comments therein concerning a recent court case, I segued into You Tube and Jon Stewart, who, if you ran his shows at random and continuously, you would notice a very confused person with a huge heart and a swirling mind that is making a lot of money and not really knowing why.  It’s not because he is funny.

So then there was the clip of his first show after the twin tower attacks and, as labeled, it is hard to watch.

I am tired of the absolute polar opposite opinions concerning this Florida trial surrounding a young man’s death.  There is no voice of reason anywhere.  It is really not much different than throwing the Christians to the lions.  Perhaps the lions didn’t eat that guy because God gave him a special protection blessing for having been a good boy and saying his prayers and not having impure thoughts, or perhaps the lion could tell by the way the guy smelled that he would not taste very good so he passed him by.  Who are you to say?  What do you think you know about it?  What do you believe?  Hey.  I don’t care.

The wonderful thing about facebook, and facebook’s a wonderful thing.  It’s tops are made out of rubber.  Its bottom is made out of springs.  Oh, no.  Hold up.  Fucking cadence side tracks me all the time cuz I have all those classical melodies fighting for space within my brain case and my heart. Anyway, as I started to say, you can block people from your facebook account if you don’t like what they say or how they say it.  I do it almost daily.  Not you, of course.  I would never block you.  I love you and respect you and admire your divergent opinions, most of which I don’t care about.  I only care about mine.  I only care about my power to rule, my power to change what is unpleasant into what is pleasant according to my own value system.  I continue to care although I see the whole world going to hell in a hand basket and me standing here, might as well be naked, but I’m not, and unable to do a fucking thing about it.  Just watching and thinking. What can one person do?  Vote?  My grand daughter cancelled out my vote cuz she wanted a sticker and had no clue who was running for what on which platform.  We are doomed.

Why do certain groups (and if you are one of my more avid followers, you have seen this remark elsewhere) have the power to form million man marches and elect bozos to rule the country and others just stand and watch the panorama of destruction?   Why are we letting any one take power from us?  Or are we giving them power?  I am not wondering anymore what we are doing.  I want to know why.

When I was first married, I lived in a huge courtyard apartment complex on the west side of Chicago.  I stood on the balcony of my third floor apartment and, looking eastward, I saw nearly the whole horizon billowing with black smoke.  Not Mount St. Helens.  The City of Chicago.  Set on fire.  On purpose.  Deliberately.  And to what avail?  A beloved leader died in an unfortunate way and people decided to burn buildings, break windows and steal things to mark the passing of this peace preaching man.  WTF.

And if I put quotation marks about the word people, I would be branded a racist and a hatemonger.  Again.  WTF.  Or no perhaps, in this case, fuck me.

Here is the voice of reason ringing out in the midst of all the polarizing remarks regarding the verdict in the recent highly publicized Florida trial concerning the demise of a certain male under unusual and questionable circumstances:

When someone is pounding your head into the pavement, reach for your wallet, while praying for his soul and your deliverance, and take out your FOID card and show it to him.

Is everybody happy?  Well I should say.



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