It’s Death By Patriotism

We’re living during times when the profoundly stupid support the exceptionally dumb Trump and call ignorance patriotism.

I’d geek out and refer to some of his inner circle as being Nazgul and say they’re searching for the ring but is reasonable to question if their dark lord has ever read an entire book that wasn’t filled with pictures of naked women or pop-up figures.

So he wouldn’t have a clue what a ring of power is but you bet your ass if some ignorant talk show host like Limbaugh or Hannity said it existed the brain dead but power mad naked emperor would do more than just lust after it.’

Mark my words America, the presidumb is going to be found dead of an aneurysm caused by straining on the toilet after one too many Big Macs has clogged his arteries and messed up his ancient GI system.

He’ll be in nothing more than a robe and slippers, one hand holding a phone with a half finished tweet containing not one but five spelling errors.

The media will have a field day reporting the dump that took out Trump.

It is death by patriotism.

A Pirate’s Life For Me

I told my meat-and-cheese girl she ought to get some reading glasses instead of squinting to read the menu.

Reminded me of how my middle sister has blown up the font on her phone so that she can read it and how I can look out my window in Dallas and read her text messages even though her phone is 1,392 miles away.

Granted I have seen little sister use reading glasses a few times and she has even seen me use mine. The difference there is I don’t always have to use mine to read the small text, depends on whether my eyes are giving me trouble and how much light is in the room.

Not that any of this really matters, but I know that I have less gray hair than all of my baby sisters. Given that none of them have lost any hair and the front of my dome is bare it probably doesn’t matter.

Other than during summer when I take some care to don my bandana not to be a biker or rogue but because I am not interested in getting sun burned on top of my skull.

Sometimes I think about all of the nonsense life throws at us and think I ought to go back to Disneyland and join the robot’s singing A Pirate’s Life For Me.

Ok, that is not entirely true, sometimes I think about becoming a real pirate. Would be kind of cool to sail my ship around the world, never worry about taxes and know retirement was covered.

I could grab some Shmatas to make a pirate outfit, find a partner who would be willing to work from Wench up to queen and go about my business.

****

Here is where tongue-in-cheek intersects with reality or at least when I remembered a story worth sharing.

I hired a mover about two years ago for a last minute job that told me something that made me wonder what the hell I was doing with my life.

Let me preface the story by saying the reason it was last minute was I didn’t want to spend money on movers for something I was capable of doing myself and I wouldn’t have if I had still been in LA.

But this particular moment and move found me in Texas with appliances and furniture that were too big for me to safely carry on my own. Mind you, I have moved full size refrigerators up and down multiple flights of stairs both with and without dollys.

And the units got to their new homes without damage, but this wasn’t possible here.

The crap I had to move was too big for one person, not because of weight but because I don’t have arms like a gorilla.

Anyhoo, I hired a guy to take care of this for me. He came out with a truck and his wife and the two of them got my stuff loaded and unloaded in no time at all.

As we hooked up the washing machine he told me he was about to turn 56 and was ready to retire from moving.

“Mr. Wilner, I tried to get my kids to take over the business. I made almost $200k last year and I didn’t work but 10 months.”

Apparently his kids didn’t have interest in moving and he figured eventually he’d just sell the company. Had I been 15 years younger I might have seriously thought about making an offer.

Assuming he didn’t exaggerate and that he really did net almost $200k in 10 months that might have gotten my attention…maybe.

Even 15 years-ago I would have been very conscious about the physical nature of the work and thought carefully about whether it was worth taking on.

But I have to say that even now I sometimes think about it and wonder. A chance to be my own boss, build a business that has liability tied to it but can’t be outsourced.

There are some attractive elements, but I don’t think it is where I am headed.

What’s Your Plan For The Future?

Been a busy week in which I had heard tell of people getting divorced/engaged, stories about a funeral for a woman who committed suicide and another shooting.

Another shooting in which our failing president offered useless thoughts and prayers because he is unwilling to fight for a real emergency because it doesn’t fit his narrative.

My daughter hears stories about shootings and mentions lock downs at school and or other drills and I shake my head. It is normal.

Of course it is now normal for me to undergo active shooter drills/training in the workplace.

Flee, hide or fight are the tools/skills we are told to use.

Someone asks me what I would do in such a situation and I tell them I don’t want to find out.

“Have you ever been in an emergency before?”

“I have been evacuated from a forest fire, been through multiple earthquakes, some of which are unquestionably defined as large and the LA Riots.”

“Wow, it sounds like you have been through a few things.”

I nod my head and say maybe and push on. I am a writer and I can tell you stories. I have a pretty decent handle on who I am and have a decent idea about what I would do but I am not interested in playing ‘what if.’

Still they push me for an answer so I give them two:

  1. I would do my best to stay calm. Cool heads make smarter decisions.
  2. I’d help the people do this fall up the stairs.

“How would you help them fall up the stairs? Are you saying you would throw them up the stairs?”

“Sure, I’d use the Force and throw them up and then down the stairs.”

He stares at me for a moment and tells me he doesn’t understand.

I respond by saying this is the Dodger’s year. “Third time is the trick, we are going to win it all again.”

“How old were you the last time they won the World Series Josh?”

“19.”

“Wow, did you think it would take this long to see it again?”

“Nope, I watched them win and hung out with my girlfriend.”

“What is your plan for the future?”

“Some variation of what I did in the past. You never know exactly what will happen and who will be around to share it with you.”

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