It is too bad dad is not around because during the last two weeks or so I have been uncovering the family tales you never knew and he would have appreciated it.
Not to mention he could have helped fill in some missing details because it makes me a little bit crazy not to know.
Especially with an imagination like mine because I can come up with 10,000 ways to fill in the Wilner MadLibs and though it is quite fun, I would prefer to be more accurate here.
Sometimes there is merit and incalculable value in accuracy.
Whose Song Is It?
Got Elton reminding me of a song I expect to eventually write unless I make it a symphony which would be quite a feat considering I don’t read or write music.
It is not like I don’t hear it in a variety of places because it burns, burns, burns and it doesn’t matter if I wear a mask like the damn phantom or say I am Raoul.
Because I think I can figure it out. I think I can do more than just ask these words to dance upon the page and entertain you.
And it doesn’t matter to me if some of you think I have failed because the hate mail comes regardless of whether I produce Pulitzer prize material or something rejected by neighborhood magazine that’s run by a guy who thinks you ought to say gesundheit every time he hears Strunk and White.
Been writing like a fiend the last few weeks and pumping out huge amounts of content, some of it is even worth reading.
Had a few members of the Fan Club follow me here from the dark recesses of Facebook and the web.
Their soft command of the language didn’t impress me the way they hoped it would nor did their promises to find ways to take this joint down.
I thanked them for providing more fodder, shared their IP addresses with them and suggested they ought to ask what their boss would say if I took screenshots and sent it over for their review.
Did I mentioned I promised to break out the red pen so that the boss man or boss lady had an edited copy?
Even better I offered to send their bosses a bill for cancelling their subscriptions.
I really had to hold back on that one because part of me wonders if I couldn’t make a quick hundred or so in early cancellation fees.
There wouldn’t be anything lost on my end if they refused to pay, but it would be awesome if they did.
How cool would it be to say that I found a way to make my critics pay for the semi-literate screeds they sent me.
Hell, they would provide additional evidence that Trump lackeys aren’t gifted with much upstairs, if anything.
They’d just accuse me again of being a liberal socialist who is a member of the intolerant left.
Sometimes I reply to those accusations and tell them they are correct, I am intolerant of stupidity and ignorance in people and people who refuse to admit shrimp is the cockroach of the ocean.
Most of the time one or more of those items gets a response and if it doesn’t I have a few more stashed in my pants.
Don’t mistake this to mean there are no smarter or cleverer trolls than I because they are legion. Still I am not too bad at it when properly motivated.
I didn’t hit the gym tonight and I am feeling a modicum of guilt because that Grim Reaper is chasing me and I don’t ever like giving him a chance to gain a step on me.
That bag of bones got me within 50 feet today and called out my name.
I turned to face him and raised my arms up in challenge.
Told him I was prepared to render a few parts inoperable and he kept his distance because he knows time is on his side.
I am made less by time and diminished in ways I cannot repair, but my mind remains sharp enough to compensate for parts that don’t operate with the same efficiency.
Better to catch my breath and encourage that bony bastard to dance now while my capabilities are as they are.
But he didn’t and I didn’t make it to the gym and instead have exercised the old melon while waiting to see if the body chooses to stop yelling at me to slow down.
And given the importance of the four day countdown there is some benefit to giving myself an extra day because when the countdown ends we’re going to learn whether I can still call down the lightning during daylight.
Perhaps it is most important to believe that I can because once you fear you have lost the ability to fly you often discover flight isn’t as simple as it once was.
Or so the rumor goes.