"You could throw a rock in any direction in any part of this country and hit somebody who wants this country to look and taste vanilla and never come close to having a scoop of cherry or chocolate anywhere near the horizon of possibility. And some of these people will not stop until what we have today is replaced with something more 1930s Germany than 2020s America."
From To Die For, by David Baldacci
"A man grows old; he feels in himself that radical sense of weakness, of listlessness, of discomfort, which accompanies the advance of age; and, feeling thus, imagines himself merely sick, lulling his fears with the notion that this distressing condition is due to some particular cause, from which, as from an illness, he hopes to recover. Vain imaginings! That sickness is old age; and a horrible disease it is."
From Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
If you indulge your unhappiness, while attempting to feign optimism for the sake of your spouse, you are walking a fine line indeed.
Virtually guaranteed to end up like Karl Wallenda.
If you live in a country ruled by a dicktator, I feel sorry for you. Heartfelt sorrow.
Because I am sure your life is miserable. You have no one to protect you and look after your best interests as a human being. Your beloved dicktator is most likely doing everything in his power to destroy your life financially, health-wise, security-wise and every other way he can.
Because he doesn't even recognize your existence.
He did before he was elected because he needed you. Needed you to believe his lies, to believe he would protect you and improve your life so he could win the election. He won. Now he doesn't care if you live or die. In fact in some cases, probably a lot of cases, he wants you to die.
And if that dicktator is a cold-hearted, vicious, greedy and stupid man who cares nothing about the citizens of "his" country, you must be really hurting. A dicktator who feels it is perfectly OK to kill citizens who disagree with him. And then perfectly OK to lie about those murders in an attempt to turn it around and blame the victim.
It must be awful for you.
I am lucky. I live in the United States of America. A country conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
A Democracy. We have free speech. We can say what we want and be whoever we want to be. We have a Constitution to protect us, and laws, and a legal system, an ethical Supreme Court to interpret those laws with wisdom and compassion in a non-partisan way. We have principled elected representatives who think about nothing else but our welfare.
We are safe from exploitation and manipulation and violence. All of our citizens love and support each other because they understand that we are all in the same boat.
The people who live in this country are well educated and actively engaged in our political system. So they make wise choices at election time, which is what protects us from dicktator-wannabes. Serpents are not welcome here.
I am grateful.
The United States is truly a Garden of Eden.
Lately when I hear about the death of a musician from my generation, that announcement is followed by "leaving ____ as the only surviving original member" of the band.
I am sick of reading those words, but that is where I am in life.
You get to a certain point in your life where you can palpably feel your generation quietly slipping away.
In 20 or 30 years my generation will exist only as a memory.
Luckily for me and many others, the people who affected me the most were musicians, authors, and actors. Creative people who I can enjoy until the day I die.
And that's exactly what I'm gonna do.
Working pretty hard. "I got blisters on my fingers!!!!"
I am digging through shit two feet deep to get to my soul.
Here's why.
"The soul does not love. It is love itself.
It does not exist. It is existence itself.
It does not know. It is knowledge itself."
From How To Know God, by Deepak Chopra
If I ever come face to face with my soul, my transformation will be complete. You probably won't recognize me right away.
But you might respect me a little more.
Todd stumbled out of his decrepit house, down the rotting stairs, tripped and fell face first into the snow.
He stood with fists clenched at his sides and screamed like the lunatics used to when asylums were in vogue. Then he picked up the gun he dropped and continued across the yard towards his truck.
His next door neighbor, Myrna, walked out onto her deck and called "Hey Todd, what's happening, man?"
Todd whirled and shot her in the face.
Then he started dancing in the snow, a madman's dance, jerking around like a drunken marionette. Shouting "I did it. I finally did it. They can't take it away from me. I got proof. They call me a loser but they're full of shit. I showed 'em today. I won. I'm a winner. A winner!"
Todd turned and headed back towards his house, slipping, sliding, and giggling like a child.
It was a very good day.
