Life's a vacation once you figure it out. I could worry about the state of the world, but it wouldn't make anything better. It surely would spoil the vacation.
Peace and love. There's always somebody around to deride the concept. If it ain't Pontius Pilate, it's J. Edgar Hoover. Don't put much stock in fashion- it'll come 'round again.
Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.
There's a sailor waiting for a bus in Fortuneswell. You'd think he would take a boat. There's no post office there anymore. Well, there is, but it's closed down.
There's no such thing as "too much love" or "too much luck."
I wish everyone had all that I have.
Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.
In 1957 I was ten years old and the transistor radio was never more than an arm's length away. Occasionally it was tuned to WTMP, the coloured station, so that I could hear the real thing. Usually, though, I kept the dial on WALT, eleven-ten, my friend.
On Sunday afternoons I was always ready to call in and cast my vote for "Battle of the Crooners." Of course I was a soldier in the Elvis army, making sure that the King kept his spot on the throne. Gene Vincent would always get a few votes and so would Eddie Cochran. On most Sundays, "Tricky, Sticky, Rocky Ricky" would fare well, as would Sam Cooke and Buddy Holly. I was always ready to fight off any challenge from Harry Belafonte. I had seen the magazine covers warning that calypso would bring down rock'n'roll. Not on my watch!
Every now and then, despite my best efforts, Pat Boone would take first place. I was always crushed. How could this be? Surely America was better than this.
Kids are taught from an early age that cheaters never win. Seems like a good idea. We don't want to end up in some Mad Max world. We send them to Sunday school to learn morals and we teach them manners from Emily Post, at least we once did.
The fact is cheaters do win. If you don't get caught copying off the smart kid's test, you'll pass the exam. If the highway patrol can't outsmart your radar detector, you'll get to your destination earlier.
Show me the fellow with bone spurs who lies shamelessly, refuses to pay his bills, cheats on his taxes and wives and sells worthless trinkets to suckers, and I'll show you an American success story.
Are you listening James Comey, Merrick Garland, Mitch McConnell, Nikki Haley, George W. Bush, Kellyanne Conway? Oh, the list goes on and on.
I always rooted for the villain when I went to wrestling matches as a kid. They cheated. They won.
Well, sir, after a short visit "home" I have to say that I'm thrilled to be living in merry old England. Oh, I miss some weather and some friends. I moved here for romance, not to avoid politics. It breaks my heart to see the USA torn in half. Of course I follow the news here as best I can. The distance really blurs the hate and blunts the fear, though.
While I don't expect peace to have broken out by my next visit, at least this election will be behind us. I wish the best for the old home team.
Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.
As I pour over the headlines from the New York Times and The Guardian every morning, I alternately wring my hands and laugh out loud. Seems like the world may last longer than we've been thinking, but what kind of world?
Maybe serving as a good example is the only sure-fire strategy.
Be the light, share the love. Tell the truth.
Once every generation we're surprised to discover how many greedy folks, willing to do bad things, share the planet with us. You don't fight with love, you just love.
Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.
It's hard to feel threatened by a hurricane almost 5,000 miles away, but old habits die hard. This time, of course, I worry about friends and relatives back home. I worry about strangers, too, not to mention opossums, squirrels, dogs and cats.
In the hours before landfall, that weird, quiet calm that feels so eerie in some way that can't be properly explained. At least I've never heard it accurately described. Every kid in elementary school in Florida reads about how all the livestock behaved strangely before a big blow. At least they did while they were still allowed to read. The Seminoles and the Miccasukee knew.
I feel it now, from this distance, over an ocean, somehow. Now we wait.
