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Stand Aside!

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While musing this morning I ran across a little piece from another elderly curmudgeon I sometimes read when he isn’t grumping about his miserly Social Security benefits. He caught himself slowing his pace at a big box store so that he didn’t arrive at the door before a liberal woman did.  I don’t know how he knew she was liberal, but I have my guesses. They do tend to share a lot in common. But to continue, he didn’t want to have to hold the door for her and risk being berated for his sexism.

I have caught myself doing things like that. Changing my gait or direction of travel to avoid groups of people wearing their tribal clothes.  I am still courteous of older women, at least those not mounted on mobility scooters. Those I avoid like smallpox. My bigotry isn’t confined to race and gender. Groups of youth, gatherings of disabled people and aged mall walkers are a short list of people I circle around when I am out amongst them.

I have had the compassion beat out of me by a lifetime of ill-mannered boors, social misfits and crusaders. You don’t dare stand holding an open door and smiling a good day at this bunch of aggrieved people.

So I have become aggrieved myself.

No longer will I circle around such people.  I’ll wear my outrage where everyone can see it. Maybe I’ll carry a cane to threaten people who stand in my way or lollygag along the aisles of the supermarket. A friendly greeting will be met with a glowering scowl. Stand aside at my outrage!

*sip!*

Good morning!

Cedar flue, Boomerang Karma and Terrorists getting their virgins …

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Cedar Pollen

 

Image result for cedar fever

I was reminded by Sherry Oermann this morning that cedar flu season is upon us. Now I know why I am so congested today.  It would have been worse, but I run cassock filters with HEPA filters day and night. One by the bed, and one behind me in the studio. But with four dogs who go in and out at will through a doggie door, it is not likely that I will ever live completely pollen free.

I think it is boomerang karma. Most of my life I have looked at people with environmental allergies as … well … fakers.  Yeah … damned elitist of me.  But now it is payback time as I huddle indoors with the filters running, Albuterol inhaler at the ready, and brutal percussion massager plugged in and ready to thump my chest and help me cough up the phlegm.

Hate it.

Image result for hellfire missile explosionGlad the first round of saber rattling is over after killing a terrorist mastermind, though now the anti-war coalition in Congress has grown surly because no one listens to their bleating, other than a few fringers, anyway. Don’t look for it to help much in the long term, but I prefer terrorists to live their lives furtively scanning the skies for the hellfire missile with their name on it.

Not much else going on in my rather small universe other than a litany of maladies brought on by bad habits and old age.

And the coffee is always good, the days and nights come and go unceasingly, and I muse.

Good morning!

Happy First Bacchanal of the Year

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Image result for pope gregory the great
Well, happy Pope Gregory’s New Year! Easter always falls on a Sunday now, as it should. God’s back in his heaven, and all’s right with the world.
Or so we are told. Some still see the night as a bacchanal, which must annoy dear old Gregory. He tried so hard to end the practice.
But one day a New Year will come that will not be like the New Years past. Then will be a celebration worth celebrating. And we can be sure it WON’T be on January 1st

Christmas for a curmudgeon …

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Image result for christmas for curmudgeons

Well, it has arrived.  Christmas Eve.

Sunshiny day, much like every other sunshiny day in winter.  Green mistletoe clumps on the pecan tree outside are slowly killing the tree, making the tree look like it isn’t fully dormant.  I will miss it when it finally goes.  The wildflowers are starting to push up greenery through the dead bermudagrass, making the yard look like it still has green grass growing.  I find it metaphorical.  Sort of.

So’s on life goes.  Day follows day, night follows night. Talk radio will be a mishmash of “the best of’s” and pre-recordings.  The stores close early.  TV is a wasteland of saccharine morality plays and media agnostics are wishing me a Merry and Happy.

And I marvel at those who can make some sort of connection between Santa Clause and the birth of a Messiah.  The meaning is lost on most of us.

But it marks the hump between my annual depression that starts around Thanksgiving and ends with planting day.  The last few years the depression has moderated, and I seem to easily carry its weight on my shoulders, albeit with much groaning and moaning as I rise up and lay down.

And the coffee is good and complements the giant sugar cookies.  I can’t be a slave to diabetes every waking hour.

Merry Christmas to those of you who find meaning in the greeting, and good morning to everyone!

 

Existential Coffee Klatch

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101914_1729_Somedays1.jpgSo the day unfolds like most other days, with some unusual unease at blithe and careless politicians and their activities.  Despite my efforts to touch the world with only the lightest of touches, they manage to intrude on my reverie and so I prowl the newsfeeds trying to gauge the temper of the body politic.

I know that over time people’s greed causes them to devolve into misery and oppression, and perhaps the dissolution in our nation is inevitable.  Still, we tried, and I really hate to see the nation so easily lose focus.  It takes a very moral people to self-govern, and I don’t think we have the chops for it.  Like Eve, circling the tree, listening to the snake as she marvels at the beauty hanging off the branches, we demand the right to be as god. Which is funny in an ironic sort of way. God’s who grow old and die, and can’t add one inch to our height without some sort of artifice.

So once again, I pick up my figurative marbles and exit the game.  I really suck at being God and find my happiness is the ability to munch on breakfast cookies, sip coffee and ponder this miracle called life.  Someday, old Thanatos will tap me on the shoulder, and all my musing will end, and the world’s supply of cookies and coffee will fractionally increase.

And another old man will arrive on the scene to chronicle the passing of days. Then another. And another. Then it will end.

Good morning.

Senility and Force 4

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CaptureMonday dawns gray and overcast, and it is a bit brisk outside with a “Moderate Breeze” from the northwest that chills to the bone.  But central heat, toe warmer and hot coffee pushes all that outside my window where it belongs.

Still have the writing don’wannas, but the news was thin this morning, and I can only irritate the bird for so long before I tire of the game. I tire before the bird does, though, and she taunts me with yeeps and scolds for more abuse. Yeah. My bird is one of those perverts who thrive on abuse.

The year is quickly passing and we note the birthdays of far off friends passing. I do enjoy the internet as it keeps me up to speed with the chronicling of individual days. But this miracle of ‘knowledge greatly increasing’ brings on its own woes.  We are choosing up sides, it seems, and all will choose a side whether they like it or not. If you don’t choose, it will choose for you.

But that is all I am going to write on that topic.  Watch and pray.

Back into the morning, the growling at thumping of happy dogs wrasslin’ in the front room intrudes into my musing. Snookums must be putting her socks on a soon they all squeeze thought the back door at the same time to get some ball chasin’ in.

I finally retired my $49 Office Max Executive chair that I bought almost 30 years ago. Things just don’t last these days. My new chair is a $59 Amazon dot com special with nice soft foam and micro sued to pamper my ample bottom.  I’ll miss the old chair, though. We’ve been through a lot, and the new chair has some breaking in to do. For certain, it won’t need to last 30 years ….

So the rotation of days goes by, then the years, then the ages.

Good morning!

Sunday don’t wanna’s …

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Image result for don't wannaSo it’s Sunday.

Don’t wanna talk about my many ailments.

Don’t wanna talk about the bird.

Don’t wanna talk about the weather.

Don’t wanna talk about politicians.

Don’t wanna talk about breakfast.

But I sure ’nuff do like talkin’ …