A Word About Writing the Words

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I am a writer. It doesn’t matter if anyone reads this or if the whole world reads it. It was written by me, at my desk, typing away and the whole world can go feck off.

Well…not really. But what exactly IS this?

In the modern world this is called blogging, and this is a blog and you’d call me a blogger. It is an attempt to…hold on. Let’s call this new work an essay. That makes me an essayist. What is an essayist? A blogger who wants to be called a fancier name and not be confused with someone who carries an axe.

An essay (nee “blog”) is a short form work that tries to make a point using facts, embellished facts, truths, half-truths, hearsay, and copied reference material, often generated by Ai, with one of two original ideas added to the mix. Basically, it’s a written rant yielding a huge helping of mental relief.

I write fiction, too, with two books of short stories languishing in the public domain while hundreds more hide in digital closets waiting to see if anyone will find them. A good writer writes for him/her/their self and hopes to be discovered. A successful writer does the same but then finds a way to promote themselves, like raising their hand and yelling in a crowded, quiet library.

Since you’re really into this essay, is there a question you’re thinking about? Like, what is the difference between an essay and a work of fiction? Hm. Good question. (Picture the scratching of the head and a light bulb.) Short stories and essays are a lot alike, but the audience is different.

Short stories can be about anything, using anything, to tell a story about anything, tailored to an audience who might be interested. (Key word: Might.)

Essays are focused more on a personal point trying to be clarified, and often hope to reach an audience of the entire population of humankind.

The audience’s inspiration is the most important driver of either work. A writer may want you to know about how his Uncle Carl’s hatred of vegetables influenced the writer’s digestive life. Who would be interested in that besides relatives, dietitians, and the occasional crazy person?

But if a writer wants all of you to know why money doesn’t grow on trees, the essay is The Thing.

Since this is the morning after the Super Bowl and the room is still spinning, let’s get back to the first paragraph of this essay. I’ll give you a second.

There is an aspect of writing more profound than any point or story, whether read or unread by everyone or no one: writing is good for mental health. Everyone should be doing it. For over 60 years writing has been a constant friend, companion, shoulder-to-cry-on, and unjudging(sic) confidant. There is no secret, no shame, no remorse, no regret you can’t share with writing. When you sit with yourself and write about your problems they transfer from you to this white, unspoiled page, and something happens to those troubles. They may go away, they may not, but they will be easier to live with, and here are some extra words so I don’t end a sentence with a preposition.*

Let’s end with a proposition: You write and see what happens. Use crayons and construction paper. A computer and Calibri font. Anything.** And remember this when you do it: no one has to see it if you don’t want them to, so don’t leave your masterpiece lying*** around on the floor.

Maybe the next essay will be about poetry, iambic pentameter, and rhythm…the only birth control method with no vowels.

*Ai says ending with a preposition has become normal. I resist.

**But DO NOT USE speech to text. The time it takes for your brain to think of something and your fingers to type it accurately are magical moments. Don’t short-change yourself and not feel them.

***Grammar nuts: you thinking it should be “laying”?

Of Intelligence and Something Else Like It

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It’s been days since last you had something to read. Hope you didn’t forget how. Weather here in NY has been cold and wintry so I hibernated for a few days. It was the smart thing to do. I am an intelligent being, after all.

Am I? Are we? Ai, when asked, says “Defining intelligence is a bit like trying to pin jello to a wall.” I scrolled to the bottom of the answer to make sure the disclaimer was there: “Gemini can make mistakes, so double-check it.” I asked Ai to double-check itself. The answer was illuminating. And who trained Ai about jello?

Illuminating but not clear. I tried the Oxford English Dictionary People and got something more succincter(sic)*: “The faculty of understanding, intellect.”

The Brittanica Dictionary took a similar view: “The ability to learn or understand things or to deal with new and difficult situations.”

Both dictionaries did not have warnings at the end of their entries. They had confidence in their intelligence.

Take a moment and think for yourself: what is intelligence? Why do we not use the word “Real” in in front of intelligence? Or “Natural”? And why are we so afraid of Artificial Intelligence? Everyone asked in public likes to mention there are “different kinds of Intelligence”. There is Science, Street, and Sports intelligence, for example. The unsaid theory is we can be intelligent in one thing but not everything?

What is the opposite of intelligence? Unintelligence(sic)? Lack of intelligence? Stupid? Let’s ask Ai: “While the knee-jerk answer is usually stupidity or ignorance, the opposite of intelligence depends on how you define intelligence itself.” It then goes on to list three possible “opposites” of intelligence, ending—as usual–with the required disclaimer. What a crock.

Wait a second, can other animals be intelligent? Ai? “The short answer is a resounding yes. While we used** to define intelligence strictly by human standards—like the ability to solve algebra or write sonnets—science has shifted to seeing it is a diverse toolkit for survival.”

Algebra? You need to be able to solve Algebra to be considered intelligent?

It’s been fun talking about this one word, but the real issue is how we communicate, how we talk with each other, how we decide, even, what intelligence is or means. Think of existence as one, big contract. A legally binding contract where we all agree about things. If I wanted to argue intelligence meant stupidity, would you participate, agree, or think me an idiot and ignore me? It doesn’t make any difference how far back in time a word goes or whether or not it came from Latin roots, or whether or not it is “foreign”. If we all agree, roughly, on a definition, the world keeps turning on its axis and we get ready for the Super Bowl.

But there are forces at work in the World, and have always been at work in the World, trying to let intelligent people know they might be the only ones, and most of the world is stupid. Not intelligent. It doesn’t help when the citizens of the world act stupid.

To make a too-long essay short, the point: War is stupid. Poverty is stupid. Homelessness is stupid. Disrespect is stupid. Who uses these things for profit or gain? Who ignores them as if they don’t exist?

We do.

And at a time when we think we are the most intelligent. We have fast moving machines and high-flying machines and medical machines to see inside the body. Yet, still…

An intelligent society? Are we stupid or only intelligent when it suits us?

*I Like this word because it sounds like “sphincter”, one of the funniest words in the world.

** ”Used” to? And a “tool kit”? Who is kidding who, now.

Of Shifts and Quarks

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We are in a time when paradigms are shifting rapidly and in great quantities. Almost every paradigm we know is being challenged.

From Ai: “a paradigm is a distinct set of concepts, thought patterns, or standards that shapes how we perceive and interact with the world. Think of it as a mental map. It doesn’t just show you what to look at it;* it dictates how you interpret what you see.” Ai goes on to name different types of paradigms and differentiate between Scientific Paradigms and Social Paradigms. That makes sense since modern Scientific Discoveries change the current Scientific Paradigms and updates them. Think quantum Mechanics, Quarks and Muons, things not known in 1926, for example. But what changes Social Paradigms?

Our current government took office in January 2025 and quickly “blanket” pardoned people CONVICTED of crimes—by juries–for their peaceful and patriotic participation in the All-American Protest of January 6, 2021. Did this change a Social Paradigm?

The Pardoner in Chief was himself CONVICTED of crimes and due to be tried on more charges before our educated, morally aware, and personally responsible American Voters re-elected him, allowing him to escape further** judgement. Did a convicted felon’s election to the highest office in America change any paradigms? Judge for yourself.

Our current government is keen on restoring law and order to America. The administration knows the best the way to do that is arrest anyone who commits any crime and make them pay the price for their unlawful ways. But what is the price? A CONVICTED sex-trafficker is moved from her full-security prison cell to a medium security facility with perks and benefits not known by her prison mates. Does that change the Punishment Paradigm? No judgement. Apply your own.

Politicians used to say one thing privately and another publicly. They called it “diplomacy”. They knew the more they talked the more trouble they made for themselves. Our current government likes to talk about everything,..almost. Paradigm Shift. Strong period.

The modern American used to fret about not being heard. Now every American has a loud voice. An obvious Paradigm shift, but good or bad?

America has a System of Justice meant to punish the bad people and make sure the good people aren’t wrongly harmed. Our current government is using that system to charge good and bad people with crimes. The government makes a big show of indictments and charges, often with press conferences and non-diplomatic press releases, briefings, social media claims, and staged presentations. When was the last time they “staged” a CONVICTION public event? Are all the people being investigated and charged, being CONVICTED?*** Shift?

One of the biggest paradigm shifts happening, now, is the disrespect current politicians and officials are showing to the American People. Those professional politicians think we are idiots. Why do they think that? Because we are.

For America’s entire history, the American People have never really known what was going on and politicians did their dirty work—and their good work—behind the scenes: the less we knew the better. But now, politicinas don’t care. Paradigm shift? Of course, but what happens next? There are signs another paradigm shift may be in the works. Good or bad? Let’s see.

*Why Ai used a semicolon here is un-understandable (sic). Ai says the semi-colon is “stronger than a comma but not quite as final as a period.” You judge.

**Further is correct. It is a metaphysical distance. Farther is actual distance.

***Yes, the word is continually being capitalized for a reason.

 Death. Death. Death. Death. Not again…

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It’s typed four times in clearly readable Calibri* because typing it three times didn’t make the word sound as ridiculous as it should. Say it four times really, really fast…you’ll get an idea of how strange it is to worry about The Word. We accept a lot of things in life out of our control, why is “that one” any different? If I was 6 feet 8 inches I’d be a retired, rich former NBA basketball star, in the Hall of Fame. Being normal height hasn’t made me fall on the floor lamenting and grieving.

In “Slaughterhouse 5”, Kurt Vonnegut introduces the Tralfamadorians who view death as simple transport, a journey to another place, a minor station in life. Their view is life is never-ending since they exist in 26 dimensions representing all stages of their lives, and they can transport into any stage at any time. Want to revisit your gestation? No problem. Death? Only take a second, unless you want to stay longer. Any time in any individual life is always being played out in some dimension, somewhere, sometime. Death is merely another pearl in a necklace to be enjoyed, admired, and revisited. Neat, right?

Philosophy, science, and science fiction are not as far apart as the rational among us might think.  Learned and tamed Quantum Entanglement could explain the mechanics of the Tralfamadorian dimension travel, for example. But it might be wise to not expose young minds to any of these thoughts, as they leave a lasting impression with sometimes controversial side effects. Billy Pilgrim’s story of travels to his other dimensions was learned when I was 16, when death was not only unnecessary to consider, but touching life anyway, with car accidents, drugs, and the Viet Nam war…in the 1960’s dimension.

It isn’t any pedantic puzzle to solve, then, how an attitude towards death can be skewed, and become slightly comic. Sure, death is inevitable, and could come suddenly, but so what? If we simply move to another dimension, what’s the problem? In religious arguments with all sects, it was the same question: if the dead are actually going to the heaven you describe, why are we sad for them?

From then on, at funerals, I was a reasonably handsome, silent man in a nice suit with tissues in every pocket. The paper product’s sole purpose was to allow grief to transfer from the breaking hearts of grieving widows, mothers, daughters, sisters, and anyone else, to those flimsy papers, then the pockets, and finally, disposal. Rarely were more words than these exchanged: “It’s so nice of you to be here for______.” Accidents, the unlucky military draft, and suicides caused the scene to be repeated often and ended with a final straw**, the death of mom. I didn’t need to be the strong silent Man With Tissues. Where she was going would be a lot better than where she’d been. I was happy for her.

It’s easy to understand grief and loss surrounding death. They have been companions often, but when Death suddenly appears, the theory or assumed reality of where the dead are going should outweigh any selfish sense of loss, shouldn’t it? If given a choice, especially for eternity, we’d all choose heaven instead of sticking around to keep relatives and loved ones from crying. Wouldn’t we? Wait, if everyone went to heaven…

It’s hard to see how the medical world fits into a discussion of death. When doctors cure cancer, it is only a temporary victory, a battle won even though the war will be lost. Is our happiness for the cure and few extra years really that big a deal? It helps to wonder about what would have happened if the world never became “developed”, and we lived the laws of nature, not medicine and man. Is living with someone else’s heart, for example, worth it? Is donating your organs to someone else your goal in life?

Only until we know for sure, only until we have made that journey, it’s open season on end-of-life issues and we will discuss them forever, by ourselves or our progeny.

Conclusion: The journey matters. Not The End. Say it four times really, really fast.

Final note: The Calamities of the past three years stress-tested the opinions expressed in this post. Winning the battle rang the bell that saved them for another round. Can’t wait to see what’s next.***

And apologies for bringing this subject up for the umpteenth time. It’s not my fault if people keep dying.

PS Looked it up and the last time you were lectured about Death was January 11, 2026, when Bob Weir died, a Grateful Dead. See? It’s not my fault.

*Which the wordpress gods will change to New Times Roman.

**There is never a “Final Straw”. And loss never ends.

***Sarcasm?

What in the World Is Going On?

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That should read “What is Going On in the World?” You have any idea?

Money and wealth are distorting the natural order of things all over this wonderful globe. You learned about Dynamic Model Pricing a few weeks ago and how money changes fair trade. An article on the web showed how many is entering politics in ever increasing levels, since the Supreme Court decreed “Corporations are People, too” and can contribute like you or me. That was 2013, and the infamous Citizens United Ruling. So you contribute $100 to your favorite candidate. XYZ Corporation contributes $1 million. Who does your candidate favor? Google how campaigns were financed before 2013. It was complicated but fair for all. Now, money pays and money plays.* Say it isn’t so.

But the real mess is geo-political. Donald Trump has shaken up the world and this is going to be the result: Three Super Nations will rule the world in 20 years. Russia will take over Europe and most of the Middle East, China will get all the Asian nations, including Taiwan, and to Make America Great Again, we get the entire western Hemisphere. Australia, New Zealand and Africa are up for grabs, probably the last places where opposing armed forces will fight. Proof? Who wants Greenland, is talking about other Latin American conquests, and is cultivating a friendship with Argentina? Trump. Us. Who is cutting off aid, and probably support, to Europe? Us. Who has already entered a European neighbor to take over territory? Putin. Who is instigating and threatening military action in the Pacific, including building entire new islands to block traditional shipping lanes? China and Xi.

Trump is often accused of being friendly to Putin and recently backed off Chinese export tariffs.Is there a deal among the world’s three major powers? Is the world about to be partitioned into negotiated sections for each? Will that be a bad thing?

Xi and Putin are already autocratic rulers, so what do they need? Xi and Putin need an autocratic ruler in the United States. Who would even think of anything this huuuge(sic) but Trump, The Deal Maker?** With hindsight and some insight, you can see the trail of this conspiracy beginning before the 2016 election of Trump. He made many trips to Moscow trying to get a hotel built, but it was denied…for the moment. Then, there are the rumors of Russian support for not only the election of Trump but financing for his wife’s documentary/movie. Did Russia put up the money? And Trump repeatedly inserts himself into business deals with China, as if he is the only one who can negotiate with Xi. And don’t forget Trump’s best buddy, South Korea’s dictator and Xi puppet.

If Trump can pull off getting himself the same power as Putin and Xi, the Three Super Nations can form and rule forever. Note the imposition of Martial Law would be a first step towards that power, especially if “civil unrest” reaches a certain, justifiable level. (Wink Wink: Minnesota.)

Smaller countries, races, and ethnicity may or may not be destroyed. Putin, Xi, and Trump will hold so much power, there won’t be much that can harm them, so they may let us keep our native languages, religions, and customs. And SPORTS!

This is science fiction and I’ve no idea if anything in this post is true. Isn’t that the best part? But when you smell crap, there usually is crap. Where there’s smoke there’s fire. If it walks like a duck…it walks funny.

If you don’t hear from for a few weeks…there is a safety deposit box number…shouldn’t have mentioned that…

PS To anyone listening, I promise to never write about this, again. Ever. Promise. Pinky swear. The Secret is Safe.

 *It was probably the same pre-2013 but it was illegal.

**It might also be why he worked so hard to keep power in 2021. He let his buddies down.

Things Not Understood Volume 107

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If only life granted us unlimited, natural intelligence, or at least the chance to upgrade our aging internal CPUs. So much happens so fast, and we hear about it so fast, understanding anything is next to impossible. Lest you think otherwise, it’s not just politics, though that was an arena historically predictable. Liberals debated Conservatives, and both felt the world was ending when they lost an election. Sometimes they married each other. That still happens, but now candidates lie to get elected, never follow up on campaign promises, and get reelected next election, anyway. All bad things in a marriage, too. And no, it’s not just Trump. What in God’s name can disqualify a candidate in voters’ eyes, anymore?

Not all unable-to-be-understood things are bad for us. Whole milk is back as a school lunch item and beef is so good for us, it’s on top of the Food Pyramid. Suck on that, vegetarians.

Our national health department notes an epidemic in Africa and jumps at the chance to study it. How? By purposefully NOT giving a control group proven, life-saving vaccinations to see how they compare to the group that gets the vaccinations. Isn’t that just wrong? Or better yet, un-understandable?

Ai has the power to do what, again? Everything? Yup. It could write this post for me. Maybe it did. How would you know? It’s gotten so confusing there is a video on-line of researchers “abusing” Ai robots to see what happens. The robots learn to fight back and go all Scarface on the researchers. What’s not to understand? Why we abuse anything, why bullying a machine counts as abuse, how robots learned the martial arts moves it used, and did anyone get paid for this? Or get grant/taxpayer money? This story has a second depth of un-understanding (UU): It’s an Ai generated fake video. Why, again?

Quantum Mechanics (QM) and Quantum Entanglement (QE). The UU nature of these things is how fast we learn about them but how slow we use what we learn*. Like the Hydrogen engine. Or Cold Fusion. UU, all of them. In an age when a viral video circles the world in less than the time it takes to sneeze, why are not using clean burning Hydrogen Engines in our cars? Why has Cold Fusion not lowered Electric and heating bills?  Why did the Bills fire their coach and promote their General Manger? (Digression. Sorry.) QE has the power to revolutionize not only communications, but maybe the transport of materials, too. Think Star Trek transporter beams. And while we are at it, how can we send people into space and yet not have “space”, (homes), for people on earth? UU? Yes, yes. Maybe we’re going to space to find a place to send all the homeless?

Ah, who gives a crap, anyway. Not literally, of course because everyone craps. That’s easy to understand. But we appear to be—in this day and age—hurtling toward major changes while most of rest in our recliners. Oblivious.

A better word from self-proclaimed genius criminal mastermind, Vizzini**: “Inconceivable”.

More to the point, the response from the heroic Inigo Montoya: “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Amen.

*Assuming there are no secret, government funded projects going on for defense purposes…which there probably are…

**Don’t make me name the movie. If you haven’t seen it, yet, why not? Inconceivable.

Quirks Quarks Quacks Quilts

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I often believe, and state here, that not much has changed from the turbulent 1960s to the mediocre 2020s. It is a mistaken belief. Readon for proof, and about things never imagined.

Quirky Donald Trump is CONVICTED (not just indicted) of felonies and American voters re-elect him president. Maybe voters just did not want a woman? 1968 election winning President Richard Nixon is rolling over in his grave. With his new 2025 position Trump pardons other CONVICTED felons without regard to their crimes or histories. And the pardoning of J6 criminals is only one of his efforts to re-write history. And we let him do it. All of us.

Quacks, political version. Modern American Politicians do not just talk crudely and rudely in public, they actually lie better and believe what they say. Truth is now a debated issue, not a fact. And we let it happen. All of us.

This should be a time in life when no political or world event will bother me, since being old not only makes one unimportant, but also uncaring: The End is near. The Golden Years are ruined now, as not only is political fighting the standard of the day, but so is the ending of all normal life.  A self-centered government is governing by feelings instead of the above-referenced debatable facts. Senior support programs, research into senior health issues, and recissed* (sic) funding for Public Information and Education, all change the tone and tenor of The Senior’s life. Thank you, Donald J, Trump. If all of us had the billions you have, we’d all be okay.

A recent scientific paper postulates that Time is not linear and representing it that way is a mistake. Without insulting the scientists, it is linear. If using a circle to depict my life and its events makes more sense, it will take more explaining. I know when I reach my end it will not be right back at the beginning. Or stuck in some right-angled corner. I can understand the concept of time ALSO being dimensional, and possibly the past and the future already existing, but until I bounce back and forth between dimensions like Billy Pilgrim**, I’ll remain linear. And eventually horizontal.

Quantum Mechanics, (QE) continues to blow The Mind. As a regular reader (You are, right?) you know QE is often talked about here. What The Mind keeps coming back to is the “Russian Nesting Doll” aspect of discoveries. Remember as a kid when we were told Atoms are the building blocks, and make up all things? As of 2026, scientists have drilled farther down*** The Big Bang pipeline and found “Point-like” particles with “no measurable internal structure”. Well, how they hell did they find them, then? Quarks, Muons, Leptons. We’re getting better at seeing really, really, small things, but will we ever be able to see The Smallest Thing, if it even exists? Boom.

Quiltcore? There is an anti-electronic media trend taking shape in our country. Young participants read books and reject smart phones, use simple cell phones instead, and actually play outdoors. One of the new trends these YOUNG people are trying is Quilting. Yep. Sewing disparate**** patches of cloth into one complete, united bed warmer. Old-timey DEI. As you learn more about Quiltcore-type activities, however, you see modern improvements. There are computer designs and computer guided Smart Sewing machines, making tasks a little easier and faster. Can you see a future of laser guided quilts raining down on our enemies?

There are more Q’s but no more room. Do not let me know if this is already too long. The decision has been made to post. Don’t troll me.

*Recissed is a bastardization of recission which is, per Ai “a request by the President to cancel funding that Congress has already appropriated but has not been spent.” It results in existing programs and research being suspended and new programs and research being stopped. Imagine a cancer research facility planning and budgeting for millions of dollars in aid in December and the new Administration in January saying “Screw you. You’re not getting it.” Not an exaggeration.

**SlaughterHouse 5, Kurt Vonnegut. 1969.

***See? Linear time. Vertical, but linear.

****Unless you really know the meaning of this word, look it up.

              What To Do With Old Memories

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Years ago, when mom died, you all read about the 20 plastic totes of memories in the basement of her house. Pictures, articles, obituaries, birth announcements, first communions, wakes, and simple stuff like when the girls were photographed jumping rope in 1973 and the picture was printed in the paper. IN THE PAPER! In 1973! The old paper stuff feels important, historic, even if it is just two little girls and a rope on Embargo Street in Rome, NY…in 1973.*

The “Sorting of The Totes”, a family tradition since the Middle Ages**, resulted in mountains of memories and momentos being distributed to each totes’ primary focus. Each child, grandchild or miscellaneous stranger had their own tote. Mom made two for me, her favorite.  At the time of the distribution, we all probably did the same thing: took a quick look and put the tote(s) up on a shelf.

Eight years later, in 2024, in preparations to move to NY and recovery, both my totes were front and center in the back of the car. In April 2024, the totes were picked up, carried to the door of the apartment house, set down in the elevator to the second floor, picked up and carried into the apartment, and put on a closet shelf. For two years. I can’t remember the reason for recently pulling them down and going through them, but the event was mind-boggling. The totes are both a Pandora’s Box*** of—

Ai says opening Pandor’s Box “released all of the worlds’ sorrows: disease, old age, famine, jealousy, and death.” They came flowing out and spread all over the world. Mom’s totes aren’t like that, are they? Maybe. Looking at photos of people from The Past, with most being complete strangers, can cause sorrow, and most of the subjects of the photos and articles are dead, so, there’s that, too. Look how happy they were, how joyous, how young, and how invincible…jealousy? Envy? Relief? Foretelling future deaths? Even seeing my 3-year-old myself bundled up for an afternoon of roiling in the snow inspired the question of why we have to grow old, can’t we stay young, forever? Then there’s the journal mom kept when she visited Switzerland, lamenting the cold while admiring the beauty. Her words in her time, now in mine.

Bet you don’t know the end of the Pandora’s Box legend. I didn’t, until Ai recited the entire story. After “The Sorrows of The World” poured out and spread across the globe, there was one thing left in the box. Ai says it was trapped in the bottom, under everything else, and Pandora didn’t see it, at first: One last gift from the gods.

It was hope.

When you look at photos of generations of relatives and friends and strangers who are no longer on this plane of existence, when you see how bright and alive they were, you begin to wonder, to imagine how much of your life will be in a plastic tote, and how soon will it happen. The existential question is normal, human, and helped a great deal by the The Hope stuck in the box, but it is still a question.

Unlike the original sorrows flitting away into the world, what do I do, what do WE do with the totes and their contents?  The Memories. What happens if we burn them, throw them away, or cut them up? Does it affect those no longer here? Does it make them “more gone”?

Screw it. Lunchtime. Everything back in the totes and back to the shelf. Life will take care of them somehow, sometime. Sorry kids, it’s your problem, now.

            *Yes. Repeated for emphasis. Please get the point.

            **Not really. But it should be.

***Really a ceramic jar, but it was mistranslated early on and the mistake stuck for all of eternity. Read the entire legend, it is a “theodicy”, “an explanation of why there is evil, suffering, and death in a world that might otherwise be prefect.”

Funny Things That Happen In The Personal, Non-Trumpian World

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First, no one can keep up with the Trumpster. When he’s awake, he is the best at chaos and funny things. And his acolytes, too, most recently the way they are calling him—according to RKF–“a deity”. But old people see the signs.

Second, so many funny things happen and when they do, I say, “I need to tell people about that.” And then I don’t. I forget. That’s not funny, that’s sad.

Some funny things…okay…memories will come back…soon…just give me a minute…they’re right on the tip of my fingers…okay got one.

The shooting of the lady in Minneapolis is—stop. Not funny.

In my morning walk at Turning Stone Resort and Casino (TS), my favorite slot machines aren’t paying out. Yeah, you’re right. Not funny.

Our friend Bill from TS has returned to our morning workout group. He had open heart surgery around Thanksgiving and has been recovering. He’s back! They gave him clearance to resume all his normal workout routines and general gadabout walks in TS. Bill is 84. Ok, not funny, but heartwarming, good news. I’ve got 10 more years! Eh, we’ll see.

Another nameless friend from our group, who’s age we won’t mention* is still out, though. She is older than me but younger than Bill and she let’s her nameless, ageless husband come with her to our workouts. He is a likeable enough guy, but he spends too much time in the locker room. Just kidding, nameless partner of nameless infirm lady whose age is nameless, too. We kid because we can all take a joke. A helpful trait in this modern world.

Still nothing funny, but a clear theme is taking shape: most seniors lives are not as involved as Trump’s. Now that IS funny: This world is being run by a soon-to-be 80-year-old man. Those of us at, over, or near 80 know what life is like at that age and wonder if being a billionaire and buying everything you wanted in life would make us qualified to Rule The world with Our Own Morality. What is funnier than that?

Got one! George Burns: “When I was a boy, the Dead Sea was only sick.”

And “Too bad all the people who know how to run this country are busy running taxicabs or cutting hair.” He said this years ago, but these days it might not be a joke.

But life humor–from George–at its finest: “If you live to be 100 you’ve got it made. Very few people die past that age.”

Maybe funny things don’t really happen, anymore. Maybe there is an Executive Order preventing them. If there isn’t, it sure feels like there is.

A wise man once told me “You can live in the past, present or, future. I chose too live where my feet are.” For us poor, unimportant, cast-off old people, enjoy every second, even if you can’t remember it.  

*Name and age can be mentioned if she gives approval. She’d be immortal in these annals. Bill doesn’t care about name, age, or annals. He probably thinks annals is something else, anyway.

Death Again, Sorry, At Least It’s Not Mine

ness23456 Tags: , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Aw, death.  It comes for thee, blah blah blah. Articles, movies, songs, pole dancers*, all die, so why we talking** about it, again? Haven’t we beat this subject to…death. Hm.

            There are deaths that seem natural and even poetic, almost hard to grieve over. The 84-year-old husband who dies days after his wife. The young, inspirational woman who loses a valiant, public battle with her cancer to raise awareness for the disease. The man who lay on top of his kids at a school shooting to save the kids’ lives.

Most of us, however, will die a normal, semi-private, wish-we-had-more-time death, hopefully with loved ones near, if not right there, at the moment it happens. Maybe we will have advanced notice or maybe we won’t. Meh, that’s life. Death, death. Or more accurately, that is life and death, or…let’s move on.

There are also the “surprising” deaths, like your favorite sports star dying in a plane crash. Or your co-worker dying in a car crash. Both lead to this statement: “I just saw (fill in any name) yesterday”, often with the added “(Name) looked great.”

As interesting as the many different ways death presents itself is, rather than list them all, we’ll talk about the one just learned today. It’s a situation probably only experienced by seniors, but you decide.

Bob Weir died. Anything? He mean anything to you? No? He didn’t to me, either…at first. I passed over the headline and moved on to more interesting and personal stuff in the news this morning. There was also breakfast, opening the blinds, bathroom duty, other tasks, and Bob Weir. To shorten a long story, it took about an hour for Bob Weir to work his way through the detritus of hoarded memory, shake off the dust, and explode into the front of my brain. I was never a Grateful Dead (Ironic?) Head. (You do know the Grateful Dead, right? If not, I’ll continue, anyway, and not mention the “g” word.) it was hard to be a living person in the 60 and 70s, though, and not know some of their songs and at least 3,438 of their rabid fans., The Dead Heads. My lack of even partial commitment to the rabid fandom was probably because The Grateful Dead’s best work was done live, in concerts…crowds that cost money. I hated crowds and hated spending money to be in them.

In 1972, The Dead cunningly put out a triple record live album, recorded in Europe. So, an American band defies current marketing rigor and puts out a THREE RECORD album of almost their entire Spring concert work in Europe. No hit singles. No influencers chirping about it. No late-night talk show publicity. Just BANG, here’s a three-record set of our best work. Deal with it. It was in 1973, in Mike’s parents’ attic, with speakers up to the eaves, no adults home, a dime bag on the coffee table, and four quarts of Boones Farm wine, when I finally learned the reason for the Dead Head Fan Club. And it happened with no crowd, no entry fee, since Mike bought both the album and “refreshments”, and no “Turn that shite down!” scream from the ground floor. It was heaven on earth. 

It didn’t make me turn all gooey or anything, and it never led to my purchase of anything the Dead did, but the music, the musicianship, and the time was extraordinary. And I learned band members names. We did the same show nearly every night for a month, until my friend’s parents came home and then…life. No more Dead for me. I never listened to any of those three records again. I married several times, had kids, never turned the volume of anything up over halfway, and got on with life, allowing the Month of The Dead to deposit itself into a long-term memory folder to be filed away alphabetically, presumably.

Until Bob Weir died.

Some long-term memories we don’t remember until a really, really hard jabbing*** with something pointy. Like death.

The Month of The Dead in 1973, is hereby officially remembered, recognized and celebrated as A Special Time in A Good Life, and is added to my google calendar so it won’t be forgotten, again. Thank you for dying Grateful Dead guitarist and founder, Bob Weir. We hardly knew you but will never forget you.

Amen.

            *Just checking to see if you’re actually reading.

            **Ai grammar police say this should be: “why ARE we talking”. Feck them.

            ***Ai: “make this wording more concise.” Me: Devour feculence, Ai.