Daily Inflammation

In the 6th grade a few of us students were given the privilege of checking out books from the Culver City Junior High library.  The first book I read was The Good Earth by Pearl Buck.  It sparked my lifelong love of reading fiction. The first year after I retired I read 58 novels and with few exceptions have read every Pulitzer Prize winning novel. I only mention this to put into context my dismay at the idea children are moving away from reading.  I guess it’s understandable given our electronic me-me-me culture.

When you look at the what we settle for in our government and Supreme Court and realize we no longer value honesty, hard work or empathy for the less fortunate, it seems like the logical next step.  Let’s become the dumbest country as well!

A little truth from Taylor Swift.  As the president and currently the only member of the imaginary Septuagenarian Swiftie Club, a small group of old curmudgeons who think they might have a shot with her if they were single, I feel qualified to comment on her lyrics.

Ms. Swift pinpoints the key step in becoming self-aware.  “Know Thyself.”  The ancient phrase was inscribed in the forecourt of the Temple of Apollo in Delphi, Greece.  To create a better world we need to start with ourselves.

“In her book Insight, organizational psychologist Tasha Eurich looked at hundreds of studies on self-awareness. She defines the concept as “the ability to see ourselves clearly — to understand who we are, how others see us, and how we fit into the world around us.” 

 Only about 10%-15% of people possess true self-awareness, according to Eurich’s research. Safe to say none of us here are in that elite demographic.  But we can get there.

So do something about it you ridiculous Buttmunch! 
(My attempt at tough love!  Did it work?)

Advice from centenarian and WWII veteran George Dunn.

Alternatively you can be a hateful, sociopathic, narcissistic, race-baiting slime bucket and be elected president of a nation where the voting majority are deeply frightened lemmings sucking up every lie like they were German citizens in 1933.

It’s Déjà vu  all over again!

Welcome to the main stage. We are now the Laughing Stock of the world!
“Good evening, how we all doing tonight! Great! You’ll never guess who we elected president, again!
I kid you not! Yeah, as stupid as it sounds. It happened.

I’ll be here for the next four years…I hope.
Don’t forget to tip your waitresses and you women be sure not to have a life-threatening pregnancy. Hahahaha!
Good night and good luck!”

As reported in Nice News, chickens share some emotional traits with people.

In a new study titled “Pecking Up Optimism,” animal rescue and advocacy nonprofit group Farm Sanctuary sought to better understand what influences the birds’ moods in an effort to further welfare protections.

“Our findings revealed that much like humans who enjoy learning new things, Cornish cross chickens presented with learning opportunities experienced increased optimism,” Farm Sanctuary explained, adding: “This exciting achievement makes a new understanding of chicken emotion widely available to the public, animal advocates, and the scientific community.

So only buy humanely raised eggs.  We have enough enemies without turning the chickens against us.  There are a lot of them!

“Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
the band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
and somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout;
but there is no joy in Mudville—great Casey has struck out.”  

A poem by Ernest Lawrence Thayer that seems appropriate.

But vote for the only candidate worthy of the office of President of the United States!  I won’t tell you for whom to vote but you know who she is!

Can you crack that code?

Well, interesting to me anyway.

Fasting makes it quite apparent how much of our day is focused on food.  To us, Baby Boomers who only occasionally eat out, never buy a prepared meal at Aldi or order from Door Dash, food is a major part of our day.  Add up time spent thinking about the what, where, how, the actual prep time, plus cooking and eating, the time expenditure is not insignificant.  If I put eating on the back burner who knows what I might accomplish:

• Become fluent in Chinese.
• Discover a cure for Seborrheic Dermatitis.
• Write the great American novel.
• Add heels to my regularly scheduled elbow loofah-ing.
• Actually read “War and Peace,” not just the Cliff Notes.
• Finish my volume of poetry, “Poems That Don’t Rhyme; A New Genre!”
• Watch “The Princess Bride” And “A Christmas Story” for the 100th time; 200th time for “The Wizard of Oz.”
• Complete my treatise on “Broadway Musicals of the Late Twentieth Century.” My specialty.
• Feed the hungry, end homelessness, make healthcare and affordable education available to all and rebuild our crumbling infrastructure. (Dang! There’s that pinko socialist spouting ridiculous ideas again!)
• Find a suitcase with one million dollars in it. (As much chance of this happening as winning the lottery.)
• Go out more and experience fine dining. I have some great coupons for Burger King in my glove box.
• Dare I dream…Exercise?

I am a man of many parts…most of them worn out!

Today I began a two-day liquid diet and fast dedicated to seeking world peace, but more so for a mysterious medical procedure I must endure.  I just tacked on the world peace to impress the ladies!

Yes, on Tuesday, November 5th, while those who have not yet voted decide if America will remain the land of the free or make a hard right turn towards totalitarianism, I will be undergoing an intricate medical procedure.  Decorum and common sense prevent me from telling you the procedure’s name or any specifics relating to this once every 5 years event.

For those of you that are curious as to what could convince me to not eat for 60 hours prior to the gastroenterologist having his way with me, I will give a few hints.  It begins with a co and ends with a py.  I will get a butt-load of anesthesia prior to starting.  You can eliminate any thought it relates to my heart.  I don’t want to be an ass or seem too cheeky, but the MiraLAX Company sent me a thank you note after I bought most of the available cleansing powder.  The Doctor’s seat will not be the only stool in the operating room.  This event may go down in the anals of medical research due to its difficulty.  The Nurse asked what music I’d like and being a huge Van Morrison fan I asked them to play “Brown-Eyed Girl” in the operating room.  If you haven’t figured it out by now it would be a solid waste of time to continue trying.

None of this matters.  I have no problems that couldn’t be fixed by a grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of tomato bisque soup…and world peace!

Why the subterfuge?  What are they ashamed of?
I guess we will never really know the truth. 
Perhaps we can’t handle the truth?