Apologies to those who know the story and song of Old Macdonald’s Farm. He had all sorts of animals, but we never know if he is happy about it*. How could he be happy with all those animals to feed? He must have been a billionaire. Ai says there is no real ending to the Old McDonald’s Farm song, it can go on until the singer gets bored or tired or runs out of animals.

Life kind of feels like the song, now. Except for a new animal every verse substitute a new trouble, war, or unhappy event. As an essayist, it is harder and harder to come here and write something happy, something peppy, something uplifting. It is so easy to write WTF essays, “why is this happening essays”, and warning essays. Probably shouldn’t use the word easy, because writing about what is wrong in the world (in my opinion), is not easy, it’s annoying, and seems pointless. It’s not even cathartic anymore. There is a sense the turbulence of this world is not necessary, and that my golden years should be full of—at least—apathy, and not despair, unhappiness, anger, resentment.

I tried to sign up for DirectTv, yesterday but their website wouldn’t approve any of the 5 credit cards I tried. “Oops! There is a problem. Please try later.” The Ai chat bot took all my information, guided me to the website, and walked me though every step to get me to where I already was and then Ai asked: “And what does your screen say?” Oops. I asked for an agent and after a 5-minute wait one came into the chat and typed: “So how can I help you?” I typed “Oops! There is a problem. Please try later.” And the rep started by typing the same questions the Ai bot did. Hey! This is progress? This is better?

See how easy it is to complain?

 This essay will be an effort to not complain. I vow to find more positive things to write about, more good news to share, more ideas to inform or uplift, not brow beat or spotlight anger. Yes, most of the usual space has been used up already with the normal bleating, but there is still room for a few paragraphs of light.

The Rich have taken over the United States and will soon take over the world. And they don’t give a crap about anyone Not Rich. How can they be stopped?

Sorry. Old habit. As a retired person my days are my own to shape and one of my favorite times of those days is 2pm to 3pm. I recline on my favorite couch, put my tablet on my chest, and listen to NPR. The hour begins with 15 minutes of news and then the VoxPop show cuts in and a gentleman named Ray Graf opens his mouth. This only happens Mondays through Fridays, but VoxPop is enough to make a day better, and have that “better” last for at least the hours until VoxPop comes back on the airwaves. Ray has a way of yakking that is not only entertaining, but informative, and…bright. Happy. Content. Unhurried. Almost therapeutic. No more will be said except he is not available in all NPR areas. Wait, maybe VoxPop is, and can be heard over the wonderfully cluttered Internet of Ideas and Chaos. The station broadcasting Ray Graf’s VoxPop is WAMC, out of Albany NY. It’s unclear if anyone outside New York State can get his show, but try, and get back to me, will you? Google or Ai “VoxPop with Ray Graf” and see what happens in your area. I’ve not said much about the actual show, hoping the mystery will pique your curiosity and get to you look for it, so…do it. Now. It might get you off the snide** of current life and back into the gentle but challenging currents of real life. Real normal life, not Rich and Powerful Life.

Sorry. Old habits die hard.

*Or what tense of verb to use. Is Old McDonald alive? Dead? Mythical? The song does say he “had” a farm. Did it get repossessed? Fall into ruin? Or does he and the farm come back to life every time we sing about him? And where is this “farm”? And why the hell should we care?

**The Internet of Ideas and Chaos is often what we make it. Google snide, for example, and enjoy.