Monday, November 25, 2024

Counting Stars On The Ceiling





Here's hoping that I've never taken miracles for granted. Seems to me that a man knows too much when he thinks he knows everything. Wisdom, as I see it, depends on embracing the mysteries. I'll go out with more questions than answers.

All those t shirts and coffee cups with cute slogans about dogs' love tell you most of what you need to know. Get down on the floor and pet one. Love Lesson #1.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.




 

Thursday, November 21, 2024

For All I'm Worth




Now, more than ever, I'm reminded to not take anything too seriously. I've used up ten lifetimes' quota of good luck. Whatever's left is all dessert. 

Oh, I've worried. Complained, too. Nobody has spent more time hand wringing than I have. Let's don't even start on guilt. Let's just declare me the world's champion and move on to hypochondria.

Let me just say, right now, that if I had ever played any lottery, I would have surely won it. 

I traded the family cow for magic beans in the beginning. Seems they were perennial. Who knew?

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.







 

Friday, November 15, 2024

What's That Smells Like Smoke





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.





 

Sunday, November 10, 2024

How Old Cary Grant?

 



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.






Thursday, November 7, 2024

Expat Blues





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.

Oh, how I remember the feeling.





 

Saturday, November 2, 2024

Cheaters Win



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.

Heaven help us all.








 

Friday, November 1, 2024

Do You Smell Something Burning?





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.