Plausible deniability regarding collateral damage. Well, well. I have some plainer words for you. Bureaucratic lies. I feel guilty if I watch cable news 'round the clock. I feel worse if I don't.
You can't spin good and evil and I'm weary of watching folks try.
Does anybody anywhere think that things are going well? I'm going back to bed. With cable news on.
It's pretty much all random unless, of course, you happen to be riding in the back seat in Dallas. Meanwhile, fools rush in and fools fall in love. We generally prefer the term "poet."
My plans to start a 12 step program for victims hit a snag this week when I discovered that the snappy moniker, VA, was taken. Back to the drawing board, I suppose. Is that further back than square one?
Do ends ever justify means? Do you suppose that loneliness is ever a legitimate alibi? Asking for a friend.
So ol' Elton is calling it quits. I booked him for a concert here on his first tour. He wasn't anywhere near a rock'n'roll star. Not a legend. No icon. He wore tan, corduroy overalls. He did dance on the Steinway concert grand which cost my boss, Phil Gernhard, a pretty penny.
Oh, I remember old geezers telling tales about the swing era, arguing about whether or not it was over. Sure, Ed Shaughnessy played his old drum kit five nights a week in Doc Severinsen's orchestra. Even if you closed your eyes you weren't gonna make believe you were listening to Jack Teagarden or Charlie Ventura, though. Technically those guys could swing. Technically don't count.
Let's drink a toast to Little Richard and the Killer and Don Everly.
I hear some songs that I really like on the radio. Technically, they rock. Technically still don't count.
Alone seems like such a sad word. Creativity lurks there. So does despair. Slowly now and finally I begin to understand what makes me different from most other folks. I wasn't instilled with shame, inhibition. I wasn't told that I was the center of the universe as a child. I was the center of the universe. I never had to earn love, I was showered with boundless, unconditional love at every turn.
My first grade teacher, Miss Gamon, came to visit while I was in the hospital recuperating from my tonsillectomy. She held my hand and told me all about who the smartest kids were with me gone. Oh, I loved Miss Gamon.
Cynicism never occurred to me.
As Lottie taught me to pray, beginning with, "Now I lay me down to sleep...," it ended with, "Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war. Amen." It was never about this war or that war. We were praying for an end to the horror and the evil of war. Amen, indeed.
Of course cynicism and sarcasm came to me. Honestly, I was pretty good at it. See what I mean.
Somehow I always seem to find my way home. I'm Maxine's son. Lottie's boy. I am the smartest kid in the class, the center of the universe. You are, too.
You'll find what you're looking for. Be sure to look for the right thing. Patience may be a virtue but it's not my strong suit. Oh, I've described myself as a patient man but I'm really just talking about being stubborn. On a warming planet, I'll wait till hell freezes over but I won't like it.
Raise a fist for freedom and raise a glass for love.
To tell you the truth I'm a touch ashamed of this old raggedy heart. I'll keep it at home on Valentine's Day. Some of us just consider that a holiday for amateurs.
Oh, the stories I could tell. This is not the first low point in our culture during my tenure. I'm hoping to live long enough to see a golden age, an enlightenment that re-aligns the populace. In the meantime I'm planning to listen to a lot of music that I've been ignoring and I'm gonna look up at more stars. There are songs waiting for me to write them and I will.
In a running start towards Valentine's Day I think about love. Well, I suppose that I always think about love. If I had known then what I know now, I wouldn't have known much. Oh well.
Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.
Here I find myself searching for my own distractions. I'm afraid that if I tear out the cable connection I'll wind up peeking through a neighbor's window. This is becoming a place that I don't want to live anymore. Where are the heroes?
It's not democracy that I mourn at this point. It's human decency, empathy, compassion. Love.
As fifty million Native Americans were being annihilated, it must have felt very surreal. Where were the heroes?
