My personal history in the rearview mirror is all written in code. It's not secret but it is archaic to the extent that you might need an interpreter to dig into my past. Maybe it's better that I lived for rock'n'roll than to have lived for nothing. I remember Mike Regar asking me in 1965, "Are you a hippie?"
Yeah, I suppose I am, Mike. I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to you.
Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.
Looking back, not much has mattered in my life. On the other hand, I suppose it all mattered. Rock'n'roll hasn't meant a thing. Until recently I would have ranked it at the very top.
Meanwhile the innocents in Aleppo are being orphaned. Starved. Blown to smithereens. Surely we have enough love, collectively, in this old world to end this.
Do me a favor. Do it for all of us. Do it for them.
With love in your heart, drill down. Make it the conversation at the dinner table. Tweet about it. Don't let it be page three news, twice a week, in the New York Times.
Remind your friends what Dr. King said:
Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.
When I was a kid I thought we all knew that 'rasslin' was just showbiz. Now I suppose that I can live with the idea that ignorance shades some folks' sensibilities. I have a hard time, however, looking past mean spiritedness and bigotry.
Walter Cronkite came back from Viet Nam and told us that our government was lying to us. Where are our heroes now?
Over the long haul the mean ones are gonna win. Oh, not every time. Aggressive behavior, though, is blessed by evolution. Psychopaths don't come through the closet door with an axe. Not necessarily. Psychopathy merely means no empathy, no compassion. Psychopaths believe that we're all just like they are. In their eyes they're just smarter. Better at it.
Now assuming that you're not a psychopath, let's consider options for the rest of us.
Why do you suppose that you still get giddy when "Don't Worry, Be Happy" comes on the radio as an oldie? Well, it may keep you from wringing your hands picturing President Trump with his red button for a minute or two.
Remind yourself that cheaters win. Payola works. Voter fraud determines elections. Human growth hormones will pump you up.
Look at your life. How do you sleep? Love is the secret. Cheating won't help. Here's the party.
It has taken me this long but I think I'm finally beginning to understand the whole garden of Eden thing. Oh, I know that the bible is intended for everyone to understand. All of those books are. That's the point. Turns out that not only am I half-witted, I'm slow-witted, too. Dang!
We're not guilt ridden with shame until we learn what we're supposed to feel guilty about. Look at that, will you? I ended another sentence with a preposition and I feel guilty about it.
Once again the bonobos seem to have it right. Kind natured and gentle, these small great apes, pardon the contradiction in terms, settle dispute with sexual contact. They do pretty much everything with sexual contact. They won't put up with aggressive behavior and that's about it. Oh, I should mention again that bonobo society is dominated by females.
Make love, not war. If bonobos drove cars every Buick would have a bumper sticker.
Me? I want to live like Little Richard or Gandhi. Or the bonobos.
Everything I tell you here is true. Except for the stuff I just make up. As I stare into the abyss that we call television, I realize more completely every day how poorly I fit in. On the days of mall shootings and renewed bombing in Aleppo, that's not such a sad thing.
