“He is an agent of chaos and certainly not interested in the welfare of Americans, just the cult members and those he thinks can help him.”
One simple sentence set a few people off and the insults came flying along with promises that I would be in tears.
Hah, that last part made me laugh. You’ll have to wait a long time to see me cry, it is not something that happens with any ease or frequency.
Though this morning there was a moment or two in which I wondered if it would help, good times with the dysfunctional digestive system and the internal mutiny.
I told the alien that was trying to kill me to either do so or go away. He went back into hiding but I feel a slight ache that he can take credit for leaving as a token of his affection.
The SEO experts tell me I ought to put the keywords from the headline in different spaces and places than I put them.
Content experts tell me I ought to change my headlines because they confuse people.
I tell them SQ loves my writing and reads it religiously, that is good enough for me. Those content experts ask who the hell SQ is and why should they pay attention.
“Go pepper your pike and do some learning about the almost famous SQ.”
“Josh, that makes no sense.”
“Life is absurd, it doesn’t make sense. Ask Godot to explain it and try to figure out why some people go to sleep and wake up as cockroaches. Better yet explain why Cult 45 is mesmerized by an Oompa-Loompa who lost 33 straight games of Solitaire playing against himself.”
Anyhoo, some dude told me I ought to thank the good lord for all I have.
“I prefer thanking the bad lord, he is more fun. Did I tell you I made SQ call out to the lord?”
That some dude scrunched up his face and tried to press ahead with his witnessing.
“Sir, we’re in a season of hope and charity which is why I want to speak with you about our lord and his many gifts.”
I shook my head and told him I felt badly that a grown man thought Santa was real and a deity no less.
“Brother, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I beat the stuffing out of the fat man a few years back. He was drunk, surly and mean– couldn’t let him near kids which is why we had our tussle.”
Some dude scrunched up his face some more and tried to figure out what to say.
“Wait a minute, I know you think it is awful my doing what I did. But when I told him to take a breather and let someone else near the kids he acted like a rabid dog. Hell, he picked up some lady’s pet chihuahua and tried to use it to assault me.
Well no one gets away with swinging a mad bitch at me so I popped him a good one on the side of his head.
Got to give him credit, he took a solid shot and didn’t go down. Hell, he hit me back so I hit him with a a garden gnome and some other ugly decoration.”
Some dude looks at me and sputters, “you can’t be serious.”
“Oh yeah, I can be serious. Real serious. The kind of serious that makes you know I am serious just from the look on my face.”
I stared real hard at him and he told me I ought to listen more carefully because he wanted to speak to me for real about meeting god.
“Listen, I already told you I made SQ say Oh My G-d more times than I can count. Since I am a gentleman I won’t tell you the context, but perhaps this wink will help.”
Some guy told me he would give me one more chance to listen and I told him I thought g-d gave us endless chances for forgiveness.
He beamed and said, “oh yes, he is a god of mercy.”
“The hell he is, he is responsible for The Sound of Music and that is torture. You just proved your lord is vengeful, spiteful and has no ear for music.”
Some guy walked away muttering something about where I ought to go so I yelled that I had already gone and come back. Sadly he didn’t stick around so I could tell him where.
Sometimes you go through periods where you are the lone wolf and you have no pack or at least it feels that way.
When those moments come you have to keep moving because staying busy is how you keep your overactive mind from going places it ought to leave alone.
An Englishman once asked me if I was mad and I said I was that and a little broken too.
“It helps with the writing, this madness, as does being a little broken. Wasn’t always like this and won’t always be.”
The Englishman smiled and told me that only the very sane recognize their insanity.
“Well in that case I best work on ignoring it so that I can live a much less aware and a much happier life.”
He smiled again and said I was on my way.
He was/is right, I am.