Friday, July 29, 2011


It’s stuffy in my office. It’s pretty muggy outside. The two things make for a rather uncomfortable afternoon. I’ll tolerate it though, because tolerance is the cool thing to do. All the celebrities are into tolerance so I guess I should be too.

I have no desire to work today. I’m kind of in a mild hang over fog and work is very uninteresting. But it’s somewhere to be other than my apartment so I guess I’ll just make the best of it.

My mind is wandering quite a bit today. I’m not very focused on any particular thing. (Hence the meandering narrative of this little piece.)  I’m looking forward to getting a mini-vacation this weekend as I will be going to Indiana and have some relaxing summer fun. It feels like it’s been forever since I had some real summer relaxation.

The only thing that would make it better would be to have a pretty gal at my side. Now that would make it a super relaxed weekend.  I suppose it’d also be nice to have a rocket powered monkey driven super hovercraft to blast across the water with. I’m not sure how relaxing that would be. I’m pretty sure monkeys, even highly trained ones, would make terrible hovercraft drivers. The hovercraft would probably never get off the beach and wind up covered in monkey scat.

I wonder what the hell I’m talking about.

I rode the Blue line into work this morning and I realized how much I hate those uncomfortable CTA seats. They seem to suck all the energy out of you. Plus I get this weird, “Everyone’s judging me”, feeling while I am sitting there. I’m not worried about their judging eyes; I’m sure they don’t give an honest crap about me. I just wish it didn’t feel so creepy. It almost as if everyone riding the train is pensively waiting for something terrible to happen. As if riding the train is a near death experience. When those doors open and you get out at your station, it’s such a relief.

Seriously, what the hell am I babbling about? I think I’ll stop here today. This isn’t the wonderful montage of thought I hoped it would be. My brain is like a carnival train wreck this afternoon. (insert off key calliope music)

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Another late one…

Thanks to my continued dental work I am quite delayed in pumping this little article out. There’s nothing like dental work to start your day out right. Two more visits and I’ll be done for a while. Sigh. I’m starting to feel like Bill Murray in Little Shop of Horrors.

I did have a pretty good story idea for today. These grandparents were apparently taking their three granddaughters downtown for the day. They were all riding the train and they all seemed quite happy to be there and be with each other. No one was whining and everyone was excited. From what I overheard the oldest was 12 going on 23, the middle might have been nine and the youngest might have been seven. I don’t quite know what grandpa was thinking but the 11 year old and the nine year old were wearing very short shorts. I don’t think I’d let my granddaughters wear something like that.

Anyway, I had a whole story idea from the grandfather’s perspective and blah, blah, blah, but since I’m so far behind today I will have to save that story for another day. I thought I’d wet your whistle for it however. Kind of like a coming attraction if you will.

I’m going to jam a burrito in my face now and finish up all this wild work I have in front of me.  My only saving grace is the sweet smile of my bartender I’ll see later tonight.

Mmmmm…. Burrito.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011


If you live in a bubble it’s easy to play the blame game. Everything wrong with America is because of something other people are doing. It’s not my fault. I pay my taxes and tote that barge and take care of my kids and blah, blah, blah. It’s those people that are ruining everything.  But I’d like to point out that it’s likely that very indifference that is what’s really wrong. Too many people on government programs you think? Well, tell Grandma to give back that Medicare/Medicaid and Social Security then. She doesn’t really need it I guess. Cut all that education spending, ok, I guess people are already dumb enough, can’t get any dumber.

I’ve always said the best way to get America back to its former glory days is to focus on our infrastructure. There are roads, bridges, monuments, landmarks, parks, and buildings, underground services like water and power that are all in dire need of attention. We are headed for a terrible crash if we keep ignoring these things or keep putting band-aids on them.  It would seem the American people aren’t motivated to fix any of these things.

They would rather continue to squabble between the parties and play politics than get to the business of America. Right now American government is faced with a very serious issue, The Debt Ceiling. “If Congress fails to raise the current $14.3 trillion debt limit by August 2, Americans could face rising interest rates and a declining dollar, among other problems. As the cost of borrowing rises, individual mortgages, car loans and student loans could become significantly more expensive.”[1]

The Democrats want a plan that would save $2.2 TRILLION over the next decade and raise the debt ceiling by $2.7 TRILLION and everybody has to get their hands dirty, rich and poor through taxation. Mind you they would prefer to increase the tax on those people making more than $250,000 a year but the Republicans refuse to agree to any tax increase.

The Republican position and that of John Boehner appears to be that the plan submitted by Harry Reid doesn’t cut enough, “entitlement programs”. That they want to cut spending more than they increase the debt limit with no tax hikes. Basically they want to keep the rich, rich and the poor mired in the thick of it because, "Hey, they didn't work hard enough".

So it’s at an impasse. How did America get into this kind of trouble anyway? By not looking for solutions within its own infrastructure is the only thing I can think of. We did not invest in ourselves and now have to pay the price. Imagine if jobs were plentiful because we were working on our crumbling infrastructure. Those employed people would be making a good wage and spending that money back here in America. It would increase our GDP and keep interest rates and all those other related financial woes manageable.

But what do I know; I’m just a guy looking for a wedding date (still. Any takers…..?) and what can I really do about it? Well, I think this time I will have to take the vicious figurative pen of mine and get involved. It’s time to get involved everybody and take control of our elected officials and make sure they understand what is best for us, the American people.  It’s simple, education, jobs, homes, health and security. But we can’t let government do it for us. We have to get involved and pop our little bubbles and remember we’re all in this together.

Okay, enough politics. So… wedding plans anyone?


Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Here comes the date… maybe.

Within the next three months I will be attending three weddings. Two will be for family and one I am going as a guest. The problem is; I need a wedding date for the two family ones.    In the first wedding I’m actually in the wedding party so I’d need someone to go with me that isn’t afraid to be surrounded by my family for several hours while I tackle the incredible and demanding duties of usher.

They must also be able to handle their alcohol, or if not, be able to tolerate the copious amounts my family can consume without being bored at their ridiculous antics.  My wedding date should also be prepared for my numerous affectionate glances, casual touches and inoffensive sexual suggestions. Actually, I’d like to go to two of these weddings with the same person, not because they’re doing me a favor, but because they’d like to be there with me; someone who actually enjoys my polite and hilarious company.

I’ve been on a dating hunt lately and it’s been one hell of a relationship dry spell. I love my close friends who have put up with my antics but we’re pretty sure we’ll never have that “kind” of relationship. We have wonderful friendships that would likely not work out well as, “boyfriend/girlfriend”, no matter how hard we tried.

I think weddings are nice events for couples. It seems so rare these days that couples have the opportunity to put on their best outfits and suits and class it up together.  I like being classy with a lassie. Plus I think my family weddings are great fun and anyone that goes with me is sure to have an excellent time. Even on the overnight wedding events.

The last three weddings I’ve gone to in the last couple years, I’ve either gone alone or with one of my best friends. There’s nothing as sad as going to a wedding without a plus one. You end up standing by the bar or sitting at the table watching couple after couple dance or get close to each other and your heart starts to sink and you think there’s no chance in heaven or hell you’ll ever find someone to dance with again. You’ll never see a smiling face longing for you to take their hand and give them a twirl on the dance floor. It’s as if the spirit of loneliness is holding your head under water in a glass sink. (You know, so you can see everyone having couple related fun while you slowly drown, in booze)

But that brings me back to the original dilemma, what woman would like to go with me? Clearly I’ve over-thought this and it’s kept me up late at night. Really, I’m making far too big of a deal out of it. I mean, it’s just a simple wedding event, who cares if you go stag, no one judges those people that go to family weddings all alone. All the time.

So I’m going to ask my favorite girls if they’d be interested in going with me to these weddings. There’s one or two that I would really leap into the air with joy if they were to say yes. And they would say yes not because they were doing it out of pity but because they were genuinely interested in having a kick ass time with me. No one likes a pity wedding date, that’s just mean. That’s like, “I like you enough not to throw up on your shoes but don’t push it”.  So wish me luck and if I do ask you, please know that it’s something I’ve thought a lot about and it’s just not random desperation.  (Don’t be afraid to volunteer either). So here goes….

Monday, July 25, 2011

Rains and pigeon attacks

Friday night was awesome, apart from almost drowning in a shot of Whiskey. Here’s a note for the future, do not inhale Whiskey. Go ahead and drink it like a normal human being, not like me, who tried to inhale it. My drunken life flashed before my eyes and it wasn’t very interesting, apart from a few moments of real happiness. (Wink)

Anyway, a wonderfully cooling rain fell through the early Saturday morning hours and I was one of the lucky few able to traverse the stormy Chicago streets. It was a blessed break from the stifling humidity we’d been experiencing and it felt marvelous. It felt so normal and natural to walk through the heavy drops. It wasn’t one of those rains that you felt that you had to run in. A slow steady pace was all that was needed to walk and get wet. I really enjoyed it. It’s funny how you treasure moments like that after nearly aspirating on a shot of Whiskey.

Plus there was an electrical storm the likes of which I hadn’t been awake for in years. It was a true light show of biblical proportions and I was awed by this planet’s power. No wonder we created so many Gods to explain what was happening up in the sky. That’s some scary stuff going on up there. If we still believed that the lightening was the work of Gods in this modern era would that mean those people that had their power knocked out were sinners and we should have stoned them for bringing such terrible heavenly wrath upon us? At least we would have cast them out, chanting, “Unclean! Unclean!”

Glad we’re not that superstitious anymore. It’d be terrible to live in a world where zealots shout and wail at small groups of people they believe to be unclean, infidels or not part of God’s “plan”. Can you imagine how silly that would be? What a wonderful modern age we live in.

Although we still don’t know what to do about pigeons. This morning as I walked down Wells street I saw two women struggling to walk through a large group of pigeons that had gathered under the “EL” tracks. The pigeons reminded me of a group of toughs from the 1950’s, hassling shop keepers and the regular pedestrian as they were just trying to walk down the street.  These pigeons were flapping and flying all over the place, they might have been 100 of them going all Alfred Hitchcock on those two poor ladies. The women actually covered their heads as they were harassed through the throngs of cooing riff-raff.  It struck me as very curious that the pigeons would choose that particular spot to hang out at. I guess one of them could have been in the Dunkin’ Donuts and was hassling the clerk for some bagel scraps, while the others waited outside to cause trouble.

I swear I saw one of the pigeons smoking. I think he pulled a switchblade too. Another one had a tattoo that read, “Egg”.  I just kept walking. I’m not one to get involved with trouble like that. The ladies did make it through and seemed no worse for the wear. I hope those hooligan pigeons aren’t out there still after work. Maybe it’ll rain and scatter them off.

Friday, July 22, 2011

Damn you busy Friday. Mooo.

It’s been a very busy morning and I am once again forced to pull the oxbow for the man instead of being creative. We’ll pick up with more exciting adventures and insights on Monday.

Thursday, July 21, 2011


Summer Time sizzled across sidewalks and streets.
Scalding and searing its stern self upon us.

We rot and roast and redden in the unrelenting rays.
We revel and rouse in its rage.

Heat and hot hover over heads hating the harshness.
Hiding in houses and holding cool hope.

We bathe and blister and bask as it beats down.
Blinded and bullied by its brutal beauty.

Sweat streaks down squinted faces and sunglassed eyes.
Singing the scales of Satan’s summer song.

Refreshing release is ripe as evening reveals.
Rousting the roasted to repeal their retreat.

 So bar rooms and booze bears the brunt
of our searing and this




Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Hot time in the summertime

Caesar wiped the sweat from his face but it was useless. He was sweating so badly it just didn’t matter how much he wiped. There was no shade to be found and the work just kept on coming. Caesar had never worked as a roofer before and he was surprised anybody would want to do this for a living. It was brutally hot. The hot shingles felt like putty in his hands.

Caesar’s grandmother had warned him about hell and how he would burn for his sins. He didn’t really believe in hell but this was probably pretty close to the heat of hell fire. He had done a few ‘questionable’, things in Mexico and after a very close call with the law had made it into the United States.   

After working for various farms and working his way up North he found himself in Chicago on one of the hottest days of the year. Hell hath no fury like Chicago in the summer. He couldn’t remember a day when he was this hot. He was pretty used to the dry heat but this humidity was just awful.

The foreman yelled something up to him but he didn’t understand. His English was pretty limited to a few phrases and words. He had a roommate that was supposed to be teaching him more English but they usually ended up getting drunk and going to the clubs where everyone spoke Spanish anyway.  It was where he met Alicia.

The foreman was waving his arms at him again and yelling something. Caesar looked over at one of the other day workers and shrugged. The other day worker, a guy named Efran, explained there was someone looking for him down by the work van.  Caesar looked off the roof and toward the van that had picked him up and could only see the outline of someone in the shade. He looked back at the foreman who was waving him toward the scaffolding.  Caesar climbed down and the foreman said something about trouble to him but he didn’t understand the rest.

Caesar pulled his gloves off and grabbed some water from a near-by cooler and splashed it on his face. He walked toward the man in the shadows cautiously. He had been pretty lucky so far evading Rico and his thugs. He thought Chicago was far enough away from Mexico that they wouldn’t find him.

The man stepped from the shadows and Caesar recognized him immediately. It was the man from the cantina he had slashed across the face with a broken bottle. The long scar was etched plainly from his left eyebrow, across his nose and right cheek. Caesar froze in his steps. He felt an unusual chill up his spine for such a blisteringly hot day. The man reached into the back of his waistband and started to move forward.

Caesar dropped his gloves and turned. His feet gave a little on the hot grass and he slipped a bit. He wrestled himself to his feet and started to run toward the back of the house he was working on. The man started to chase him. Caesar rounded the back of the house and hopped the chain link fence and plopped into the next-door backyard. He ran toward the garage and out into the alley and then hopped the back gate of the house across the way. He heard the other man, this lunatic, chasing after him. All Caesar could think was how it was way too hot for this.

He felt something cut the hot air over his head and then the siding of the garage he was running next to burst in front of him. Then two more holes appeared in the siding over his head before he could turn into the other backyard and duck out of the way. He cut back and hopped the fence on his left and then ran back towards the alley from which he came. He figured his hunter would not be as clever as he. He’d go right through to the next street while he made another amazing getaway.

He jumped back out into the alley. But he had guessed wrong. While he may be clever, he was no match for sloth. His fat hunter had given up chasing him in the heat and hadn’t followed him after shooting. He was panting and wheezing and wiping the sweat off his marred face. Now, Caesar was standing nearly directly in front of the man that was trying to kill him.   

There was a siren off in the background. Just one of many that would be heard today. Caesar put his hands up and thought about his grandmother again.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Damaged Brightness

Over my long weekend off I had a lot of moments where I was confronted by my own ridiculousness. Usually those moments occurred after I had watched something inspirational or educational on TV. I saw a lot this past weekend that really made me think about social justice and morality. I saw things that made me think about me and my place in the world. I drank too much.

I wonder who I am. I don’t really know the person I’ve become. I think I’m having a mid-life crisis without the purchase of a muscle car.  I’ll be 35 years old but I still feel 25 in most situations. And yet at other times I feel 80 years old and knowledgeable beyond my years. Either way I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t think anybody really does, but for some reason, those people seem able to take on new challenges and get through them. I’m stymied.

My teachers used to say to my parents that I was extremely bright, that if I applied myself I could be really successful. It’s too bad I have no idea what it I am supposed to be successful at. I do enjoy writing but the odds of actual success seem slim and getting slimmer every year, every day. I wonder what those teachers saw in my work or actions or behavior.

I think I’m possessed with too much self-doubt which leads me to avoid any tough situation. Hell, I’m scared of most situations and have an extremely hard time getting though them. I sweat. I sweat at the thought of anything complicated. I used to have anxiety attacks in little league. I’d get this needle and pins feeling shooting all over my back and was probably close to breaking out in nervous hives. I was sweating last night in bed as I tried to force myself not to be so nervous and, “cowboy up”, as they say. But then I think about all those dead cowboys.  So I sweat.

It’s a scary thing not to be sure about things. I mean, as a rational and decent human being, I know that “if”, is the middle word in life and nothing is certain. Maybe that’s my problem. I’m far too much of a pragmatist to actually enjoy anything. I break everything down, piece by piece, examining every part and never actually enjoying the whole. I then decide not to bother at all and the next thing I know I’ve let everything get out of control and I’m panicked and calling people to help me get the boot off my car.  

It’s a shame I can recognize what the problems are, but do not have the tools to fix them. I’m like an armless auto-mechanic. I can tell you what’s wrong by sound, but don’t have the ability to fix it.  I’m not saying I’m totally helpless. Obviously I have the wherewithal to put these thought’s down and publish them on my blog, that doesn’t scare me too much. It’s a safe distance and I’m only slightly worried about what others will think about it. And I’m usually half in the bag when people do talk about it to me about it and by that point I’m very brave.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Do what?

How dare they expect me to neglect my loyal and faithful readers by making me do my actual job? It’s deplorable I tell you, simply deplorable. I must resist them and get back to my passion. A figurative fist shaking in the face of corporate America.

It’s not that the well of words is dry or anything, but I have been struggling for topics of universal interest. All I can say is that I have a long weekend coming up. I decided to actually use some of the vacation time I have accrued and take a long weekend. So I’ll not be writing this blog on Friday or Monday.  

Tonight I plan on heading to my local watering hole and dance on the smiles of my lovely and ever ready bartender. There’s nothing so good in this world as a bartender that sees you coming and has your drink out on the bar before you can even ask for it. Plus she’s sincere and that goes a long way with me for bartenders.

Over the weekend I will be attending my younger cousin’s bachelor party. I think I may be nearly the oldest guy there. It’ll be a tame affair and that’s okay with me. I’m pretty bored with the whole stripper thing anyway. It’s certainly a trend that seems to be fading away. Plus it’s so damn expensive. The last one I went to, my friends and I spent nearly three hundred dollars on watching a very athletic girl writhe around. Mind you she was very attractive, but it just wasn’t worth it.

Hopefully, I’ll find other ways to keep myself occupied this long weekend. I am considering doing some car shopping as my old and trusty Saturn is a remnant of a previous century. I bought her in 1998, way back in the 20th century. It might be time to upgrade, as long as the payments are low. I’m certainly not made of money.

And here comes my boss to talk to me about some innocuous detail. So I must end here. See you at the bar later.  

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Hurry up, take your time

Sadly I cannot devote the appropriate time to this writing today. It's quite possibly one of the busiest Wednesday's I've had in a while. It's been non-stop since I walked in the door this morning. Just a rocket fueled cubicle blasting through the office corridors.

Couple thoughts though. All-Star game last night was boring. World Cup with Mexico and Paraguay was awesome and exciting. I'm a secret soccer fan it would seem. Who knew?

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Wasting time

Charlie sat up in bed. He was incredibly frustrated with his inability to get some damn sleep. He’d gone to bed three hours ago and had been tossing turning the whole time. He was too hot, he was too uncomfortable. He was just thinking too much. He thought about reading for a while but the book he had been thumbing through lately had this graphic rape scene in it and it made him slightly uncomfortable. I mean, it was good writing if it made him feel uncomfortable, but at this point in the night it wasn’t what he needed.

He didn’t want to wake up Mary either. She could probably sleep through a garbage truck smashing though the side of the house, but click on the light and she’d be up and angry. So there was no need to tempt that kind of vicious fate. She had her head buried into the pillows next to Charlie. Her hair was flopped messily over her face.

Charlie laid back and tried to calm himself by listening to Mary’s quite and measured breathing. But her breathing started to get really annoying. It wasn’t the slow steady pace he thought it should be, but a rattling, haggard wheeze. She was so beautiful, but she snored like a monster. She often farted in bed too. Charlie loved her and he supposed he loved her imperfections even more, but right now; suffering through insomnia while she slept peacefully was close to driving him to murder.

The clock on the night stand rolled to 12:48 a.m. and Charlie stared at it. He had to get out of bed at 6:00 a.m. and start getting ready for work. He did the math in his head and thought that if he fell asleep right now he could make it through his busy day without being too tired and worn out. Math was good. It usually could help Charlie drift off to sleep. He didn’t much care for math. Although he was fascinated by big math, like quantum physics and the laws of large numbers or how they figure out certain algebraic calculations, and yet he couldn’t remember how to do long division anymore. It was one of those skills that atrophied right after school because he just never had to use it.

He realized that this train of thought wasn’t working. The math thoughts weren’t putting him to sleep. He rolled over again and put his hand on Mary’s side and felt her lungs and chest move with each peaceful sleepy breath. He was envious of her ability to fall asleep right when her head hit the pillow. He wasn’t sure how she did it. In the six years they’d been married she’d never had a sleepless night. He considered that maybe she was just at peace with herself and most things in her life while his life was a constant cavalcade of potential failure and self depreciation. He wondered what she ever saw in him and more matter of fact, what she was doing with him.  He was pretty sure he didn’t deserve her.

A fire truck revved up their siren on the distant busy street and peeled through the night. Charlie sat up again and rubbed his face with his hands. He saw his shadow on the wall from the bright moonlight outside. He looked at the clock again, 12:52 a.m. and sighed.  He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up. He walked to the kitchen and got a glass of milk from the fridge. He sat at the counter and lit a cigarette and slowly drank his milk.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Rocket man

Today marks the final launch of the Space Shuttle Atlantis bringing an end to the 30 year old shuttle program. Its mission: delivery truck. Seriously, the final mission of the Space Shuttle program is to deliver supplies to the International Space Station. No Star Trek type mission to boldly go where no other space vehicle has gone before.

I’m sad to see the end though. The ability of mankind to let loose their earthy bonds is an incredible feat of engineering and intelligence and I whole heartedly respect it. The space shuttle was an incredible machine that, according to CNN, “carried 355 astronauts half a billion miles in space.” So basically it’s like saying, “Yeah, it kicked space’s ass”.

I remember when I was young and it seemed that every kid wanted to grow up to be an astronaut. Of course, after the various challenges and tragedies those inklings diminished some. But I still think it would be pretty amazing to see Earth from space or walk across the surface of the moon, or even explore space as no one has done before.

In 12 days Atlantis will return to Earth and be formally retired from service.  I know from what I’ve read that American astronauts will be hitching rides from the Russian Space Agency for future space trips, which I find really ironic since it was our competition with the Russian’s that really propelled the space program. I don’t know what the next space vehicle will be. There were several in the works but nothing seems to have come out as the front runner. I do find that a little depressing for America. We were leaders and innovators only to be stuffed back into Russian Capsules. I don’t remember losing the cold war or sticking my space suit thumb out, hitching a ride.

In any event, it’s Friday and writing this has taken too long already. I think I’ll get a burrito for lunch and keep my mind on earthly tasks. Aren't you glad you stopped by to read this? I am. Have a swell weekend you space cases.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Did I tell you?

God you look hot today. Seriously, it’s quite possibly the best I’ve ever seen you look. I mean the way that dress fits your body, I mean, it’s fantastic. I should have said more about it last night, but I was kind of at a loss for words. And the way you kept unwittingly teasing me with your constant fussing with it. My goodness it was awesome.

Those shorts you’re wearing are amazing. They really show off your smooth and silky legs. I know we say it all the time but, wow, it’s truly a sight to behold. I could watch you walk around in those all day. Watching you crossing them and uncrossing them could become a more popular national pastime than baseball.

That top is fantastic, the way it hugs your curves and shape. I can hardly resist staring at you. Not in a creepy, stalker way, but with a look of reverence and awe. I wish I could shake the designer’s hand for making the perfect garment for you.

Your skin is so soft. I wish I could spend hours just gently caressing every inch of you. In fact, it’d be my serious pleasure to do so. If I could establish an institute dedicated to gently touching you I’d do it. All I need is a grant from the NEA.

I felt your lips once and the mere thought of them touching mine sends electric waves all through my body. It heats my brain up so much that I can hardly stay focused on the chores and deeds I must participate in. I’m a puddle of mush looking to be re-formed at your gentle kiss.

I never knew what lost was until I looked deep into your clear and sparkly eyes. Everything else faded away as I drowned in your cool, attentive, eyes. They dance in my thoughts and I feel happy every time they happen to find me.

That smile, that big beautiful smile. How it makes my heart leap from my chest and dance the rumba across the bar. It makes me weak and strong all at the same time. Especially when it’s me you’re smiling at. I’d dance across the planet if I knew it was a smile for me.

That hug you gave me when I wasn’t expecting it. How you held yourself so close to me for that moment. It was a moment of fulfillment I won’t soon forget. A validation of what I might mean to you and how real it made me feel. I didn’t want you to let me go.

I didn’t tell you? Shame on me. Shame on me indeed. 

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Empty page muse

It’s been a struggle to come up with a topic this morning. I’ve wavered between a Samurai story or maybe something about the legal system in light of recent rulings, but none of those words seemed to be sticking to the page.  They just didn’t seem to carry the proper weight or depth to hang correctly on this blank sheet.

In fact, I’m still having trouble getting these blasted words to stick to anything. Each new thought is quickly written, measured and erased as I can’t seem to put my finger on anything of consequence today. Maybe I’m just too busy. My phone has been ringing off the hook this morning.

Even good old CNN has let me down as I can usually find some headline that incites my fingers to fly across the keys, but not today. I can’t bring myself to care about the Casey Anthony verdict or the ongoing government hoopla. I’d rather have a nice cool beverage and relax at a bar. Maybe step outside for a cigarette and chat it up with the other local bar patrons.

I’m not in it today. My participation is purely rote and weak. It’s merely muscle memory that drives me into my cubicle today. It’s just the same answers to the same questions. So originality and creativity have taken a back seat to the doldrums today.

Perhaps there will be more to write about tomorrow; more outrages or hilarity to pique my interest. I’m not pursuing excellence today, just a little, “meh”, and a shrug.

I think I need a muse. Any volunteers?

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Welcome back to your freedom

Wage slaves and disgruntled employees, hear me. This past weekend we celebrated the birth of our great nation and we reveled in the accomplishments of our forefathers so we might enjoy the best freedom can offer.

The most important part of the Declaration of Independence prescribed by the founders was this, Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. Now just as a refresher, The Declaration of Independence is not a document of law governing the United States. It was merely a declaration to England that we weren’t going to put up with their crap any more. The phrase itself, “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness”, is more a statement of theoretical ideology for a society. It is not a guaranteed right in the United States. That in its entirety, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”, it is clearly an idea, not a rule of law.

However, we do seem to feel that it is our unalienable right to achieve happiness or at least, the American dream holds some of that happiness for us. And yet, so many of us are still struggling with that dream in our waking hours. We go to jobs we hate or work incredibly long hours for the accumulation of goods that end up being meaningless trinkets. We kill ourselves doing things we despise just so that one day, maybe one day, our American dream will come true. The only way to really get that dream it seems is to work your ass off and there's no guarantee you'll be part of the 1% that makes it.

We have to work until our fingers are bloody and our back’s are hunched from years spent lifting or bent over a computer. And yet, we toil on, still hoping that American dream will come true for us. It’s no wonder so many Americans play the Lotto. We all want the riches America can offer but we’re not so sure about the work it actually takes to achieve it.  I know politicians have no idea what it really means to the average American to work and scrape for everything they have. To make decisions about taking care of a sick parent or working or paying for health care or losing a home. It’s sad that the American dream has become so distorted and those with the political wherewithal have done nothing to help.  

We are not lazy; we just hate what we’ve become. We need the right motivation to get our minds to remember what it means to have unalienable rights. We need our government to focus on the needs of the many and not of the few and get us back into the game and make it possible for those of us returning to work after a long holiday weekend, not to hate it so very much.

All we need is someone to really point us in the right direction and Americans can and will make their dreams of, Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness, come true.
Now, get back to work. (Whip crack)

Friday, July 1, 2011

Happy Independence Day Weekend America

"Good morning. Good morning. In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world, and you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind. Mankind, that word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can't be consumed by our petty differences any more. We will be united in our common interest. Perhaps it's fate that today is the 4th of July, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom. Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution, but from annihilation. We're fighting for our right to live, to exist, and should we win the day, the 4th of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day when the world declared in one voice, 'We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on, we're going to survive.' Today we celebrate our independence day!"

President Thomas Whitmore
July 4th, 1996

I thought this would be wildly appropriate for the coming Independence Day. Plus it makes me laugh just a little. Where’s this President? Do you think he was re-elected as often as F.D.R.?  President Thomas “Kick Ass” Whitmore. I love it.

I hope everyone has a great and safe and maybe a little sexy at times, Independence Day weekend.  We’ll pick this up again on Tuesday.