Just Another Day In America

The news says there is another shooting in El Paso today and no one is running around in shock because we are numb to this nonsense.

My daughter asks what store and I remind her to keep her eyes open and to remember to stay calm in all situations so that we make smart decisions.

The utter stupidity of having to say these things as if mass shootings are normal should make us all scream, but it doesn’t.

Maybe we ought to play Willie singing Cruel World and pretend life isn’t upside down and inside out.


One of the Facebook political groups I belong to had a posting about a freshman congressman’s twitter response to a GOP congressman with a comment about how smart the freshman is and I damn near lost it.


It’s not solely because there is no real significance to the tweets and I find what some people think of as political discourse to be as useful as drinking bleach or snorting pesticide.

It is because this freshman has no real accomplishments, received less than 16k votes and is being looked at by some as if this offers her a mandate to speak for the masses.

It doesn’t.

My low opinion of the freshman is enhanced by her taking up the mantle of antisemites and promoting violence against Jews as well as this sense she will try to blow up the party if it doesn’t follow her wishes.

I said some of this in a response to the initial poster but haven’t gone back to see the responses it generated because I don’t feel like fighting.

Not because I fear conflict, because I would storm the gates of hell by myself if I believed there was a need.

Visions Of Paradise

Got Sinead singing Belfast Child with Simple Minds playing and ideas for how I would fix the truck in the picture above.

It is a wreck and it looks like it could be a hell of a job to fix but sometimes you start with a dream inside your mind’s eye and view what could be.

Sometimes you take a deep breath and head out the door working on your own visions of paradise.


I was that guy at the gym last night.

You know the lunkhead that suddenly yells as he lifts something heavy and then allows it to drop.

Didn’t mean nor want to be him. If you took a poll of people who know me I am confident you’d find many who say I am very quiet and many who say I am loud.

Some of it is because I live a thousand lives inside my head, always have.

Got to the bench press and struggled through my first two sets. Just couldn’t get my blood pumping and so I did the smart thing and added more weight.

That first lift after was magic, I felt whatever was holding me back fade and I pumped out a bunch of reps.

I didn’t mean to yell, but I think the old barbaric yawp slipped out of me.

Given the stress and frustration of recent times it doesn’t surprise me that this happened, but it is a little embarrassing.

No one wants to hear me yell, but maybe some hope to get a yawn…who knows.

Investments In Time

Sometimes that teenage boy who calls me dad wants me to stop hassling him about some things.

I understand it because I didn’t like it either, but I can’t let some things go unsaid.

He doesn’t understand how easy working out could be for him and how fast he could see results in some areas.

Not long ago the kid walked 10 miles for exercise. Did four or five the days before and after like it was nothing.

Not that I am surprised, he ran cross country in high school but hasn’t ever been interested in lifting like his old man.

Granted he is the beneficiary of good genes for muscle, he doesn’t have to work hard at some of this because we have been blessed with natural strength.

But given how time impacts things and how much more challenging it is for me to make certain physical changes now I can’t help but push him to make some of those investments in time.

When we work out together he kills me on the cardio. It is virtually effortless for him, but I can outlift him in every area.

Mostly it is because of 35 years of lifting and the muscle memory that comes with it.

But it comes with wear and tear and my having to adjust because the little pulls, aches and bruises don’t heal as fast as they used to.

So I tell him he ought to take advantage of this time, build the foundation and framework.

Perhaps some of his reticence comes from not wanting his old man to tell him what to do and from how easy it is to see changes.

That ease is one of the few things I never stop missing from the past. One of the few things I wonder if maybe somehow I can recover it or at least pieces of it.


I can hear my neighbor playing an old Lana Del Rey song while he works in the yard and am playing around with whether I ought to go work on the sprinklers here.

There is a problem with them, but I am not the owner so I don’t have to get my hands dirty with that.

Except today feels like a day where I ought to work with my hands if for no other reason than to not to see the continued reports of the dead from the latest shooting.

Or to come across the vapid responses from the tool in the White House and his team of incompetent boobs.

Thoughts and prayers have been so effective, it is just another day in America.

(Visited 24 times, 1 visits today)


Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Please enter an e-mail address

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

You may also like
%d bloggers like this: