Running With the Crowd

 

My fellow Americans, today I am formally announcing my candidacy for the Democratic nomination for President of the United States.

Why? Because everyone else in the world is.

New York City Mayor Bill DeBlasio announced his candidacy Thursday, which brings the total number of candidates to somewhere around 857, I believe.

Holy Clusterf***, Batman!

You think everyone wants a shot at donnie? They are lining up, friends.

I mean, can you imagine the stage for the debates? There’ll be more candidates than audience members. Just introducing them all will take up about half the allotted debate time. You’d need a program to follow along.

And honestly, I stand as good a chance as most of them.

So, why not? I don’t know a thing about running a country, but we’ve already proven that’s not a prerequisite for getting elected, right?

I mean, the economy, health care, foreign policy, the environment…how tough could this job really be?

So, yeah, vote for me, folks, and I promise to get on this stuff right away.

After all, I don’t have a Twitter account!

Oh, and at the debates, I’ll be the sixteenth guy from the right.

I’ll wave at you.

Forget God — these days it’s ‘In Trump We Trust’

I know some of you will disagree, but I find this a bit scary.

Teri Carter's Library

b272baf1-23bc-4fcc-9b6c-331612b0ed99 April 2019 — Trump rally in Wisconsin — photo credit: CNN

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After watching a rally crowd gather in Wisconsin in April, Trump 2020 campaign manager Brad Parscale tweeted about his boss, the president, “Only God could deliver such a savior to our nation.” 

This, at the same Wisconsin rally where said-savior famously lied, “The baby is born. The mother meets with the doctor. They take care of the baby. They wrap the baby beautifully, and then the doctor and the mother determine whether or not they will execute the baby.”

Yes, lied. 

The president’s sickening, spun-up lie that women are giving birth and then consulting with their doctors about executing their babies is nothing but a vicious, calculated stump speech fed like a drug to his supporters. And yet, according to Parscale, the man telling such incendiary lies is a savior delivered to us by God. 

And…

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Crisis Text Line

 

This website was brought to my attention, and I want to share it with you.

It’s called Crisis Text Line. It’s a place where you can send a text message anytime, 24/7, for free. A trained counselor will receive your message, then text a reply, and the two of you can begin a totally confidential conversation, the purpose being to bring you to a safe place emotionally.

And if this sounds to you like some suicide hotline, it’s not just for people who are contemplating suicide. Any emotional distress you’re experiencing, you can talk about with someone over the Crisis Text Line. Share only as much as you want with the counselor, who will actively listen to you, empathize with you, and maybe ask some questions.

The conversation usually ends when both you and your counselor feel you have reached a safe spot, but not before then. Take all the time you need and remember, it’s all confidential.

You can reach them by texting HOME to 741741 in the US, or to 686868 in Canada.

I haven’t gone there, myself, but over 102,000,000 messages have been exchanged since August 2013, when this site opened. So, somebody’s been there. Roughly 75% of those texts are from people under 25 years of age, among whom texting is a more common means of communicating.

If you’re going through a tough time emotionally, and you don’t feel like you can talk to anyone over the phone or face-to-face, here’s another option for you. If you use it, I hope it helps. If you want to learn more about it, just go to https://www.crisistextline.org/

I wish you well.

 

Break Time

 

I like to think of myself as, at least, a semi-informed chap, a guy who has some idea, anyway, of the goings on of the world. As such, I try to stay on top of the news of the day.

But I may have to rethink that.

I truly believe, if I try to keep up with the news these days, it may drive me to a nervous breakdown, or worse. The anger it stirs in me might blow out a blood vessel, I don’t know.

Because it is so overwhelmingly depressing. So bleak. So hopeless. It leaves me with a dim view of the present, and an even darker one of the future. And feeling helpless to do a damn thing about it.

And the sheer weight of it all becomes almost too much.

Am I the only one who feels like this?

 

Part of this, I understand, is due to the media’s propensity for focusing on the bad news. But, we’re to blame for that; bad news consistently pulls in good ratings, which are what the news business is all about. Like the philosopher Don Henley once said, we love dirty laundry.

I guess, if I had some other belief system, perhaps it wouldn’t get to me like it does. But I believe what I believe, although even that’s shaky these days. Maybe I’ve been wrong all this time. Don’t think so, but I’m not quite as sure as I once was. I don’t know…

I just know that, for the sake of my sanity, I don’t wanna know. My head just needs to be in the sand for awhile, good or bad.

But, if someone drops a bomb on us, can someone please give me a heads-up? Thanks.

 

Notes From the Dungeon

 

In my head is not a pleasant place to be these days.

Thoughts of despair, of hopelessness, of emotional weariness. Of just a general fatigue with it all.

Monsters from without and within, each taking its turn at me, no letup.

Thoughts of putting an end to all of it. Yeah, those thoughts.

Oh, depression, you’re so much fun to have around.

 

This isn’t really stuff I want to share, but I need to show the bad side, as well as the good.

It ain’t always like this (fortunately), but it’s not all zippity-doo-dah, either. This $#!t can pull me down pretty quick.

And sometimes, I even want to stay down. How twisted is that?

It’s just part and parcel of my life. Unfortunately, that means it’s part of my wife’s life, too. I hate that.

This, too, will pass; I know it will. Just sucks at the moment.

Hopefully, the next post will be cheerier. Love to you.

Wishing Your Life Away, One Friday At a Time

 

Typical workplace conversation, Monday through Thursday of any week:

“How’s it going?” “Be going better if it was Friday!”

“How’re you doing?” “Just trying to make it to Friday.”

“Is it Friday yet?”

“This would make a good Friday, wouldn’t it?”

“I sure wish it was Friday!”

Typical workplace conversation, any Friday:

“YAAAAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!”

“FINALLY!!”

“How’s it going?” “Great, it’s FRIDAY!!”

We say this Every. Freaking. Week.

Mondays through Thursdays are simply annoyances, standing in the way between us and our precious, sacred weekends. And Fridays are the golden gate through which we cross into those oh, so longed for Saturdays and Sundays.

And then, just like that, the weekend is over, Monday returns, and the longing begins anew.

Sorta sad, when you think about it.

 

Don’t get me wrong. I love my weekends, absolutely. It’s my chance to wake up without an alarm clock, unless you count my cat. I’m not putting on the uniform I wear through the week as I drive my shuttle bus; I can actually wear other clothes. I can spend time doing what I want, instead of what I get paid for. Weekends get two thumbs up from me.

But, I don’t know, I guess I worry some that I’m rushing my life along, looking for the next Friday down the road. It’s not like I can store up all the Mondays through Thursdays to use another time. Once they’ve passed, they’re gone for good. And as I rush headlong to my 60th birthday, I’m becoming more sensitive to the value of all those days in between the Fridays.

I know I should experience each day just as it is: the people who come my way, the food I eat, the weather I encounter, the opportunities, the circumstances, the sights, the sounds, all of it. After all, who knows if we’ll make it to Friday, or if Friday will make it to us?

But it’s going to take a major mental adjustment to begin taking and appreciating each day for the singular treasure it is. If any of you can offer some tips on how you do it, I’m listening.

 

On a somewhat brighter note, this is the first post I’ve managed to finish after several weeks of false starts, so I take this as a small victory.

A Strange New Sound

 

Sometimes all I need is the air that I breathe
And to love you

”The Air That I Breathe”, The Hollies

 

Ah, my friends, to breathe is a wonderful thing.

Just a week ago, I had nasal polyps completely blocking any air from entering my left nostril, and partially blocking the right one, a condition that had persisted for months. The task of breathing was mostly relegated to my mouth, which was highly annoying.

(the task, that is, not my mouth)

(though my mouth can also be highly annoying)

But now, thanks to endoscopic nasal surgery, I can take in precious oxygen through both sides of my nose. Yaaayy!!

Sorry, but when you’ve been denied something for so long, to finally have it again is a big deal. (Some husbands might identify with this feeling.)

And you know it’s been a long time when you notice a sound that’s, at first, unfamiliar to you, but then, you finally recognize the sound of air entering your nose.

A beautiful sound, I tell you.

My sincere thanks to the surgeon and the hospital staff, whose care and professionalism were present all the way through this procedure.

And thanks to all who had me on their minds last Friday morning as I was having this done. I felt all your well wishes.

Everyone, take a deep breath, and appreciate how easy it is.

And, if it isn’t, go see a doctor. Breathing is kind of important.

The Straight Poop (or, Excrementally Yours)

 

NOTE: To you-know-who, don’t let Jason ever read this.

 

So, as many of you know, I drive a shuttle bus in a part of town, all day, five days a week. Actually, I drive from one town to another and back, which is funny when you consider I just drive one mile each direction.

Anyway, both these towns are home to some very well-to-do people.

Which, as occurred to me today, explains the prevalence of pickup trucks rolling through the neighborhood, advertising pet poop pickup service.

I wouldn’t lie about something like this, although “pet poop pickup” is kinda fun to say, I must admit.

I mean, obviously, these well-off folks would never stoop (literally) to doing such a vulgar, disgusting chore so, thank God, there is someone available to do it for them.

Naturally, this raises a few questions:

  • First of all, where were these guys on Career Day in school? They could have seriously altered the trajectory of my life.
  • Who was the first person to say, “Hey, I can get paid for picking up this stuff!”
  • Likewise, who was the first person to say, “Hey, I can pay someone to pick up this stuff!”
  • What kind of experience lends itself to this kind of career? (I’m thinking, ex-Trump staff member, perhaps.)
  • What must the training process be like for this work?
  • Do you get to wear a suit, like those HAZMAT guys wear?
  • What opportunity for advancement is there? Can you get promoted, maybe to Master Scooper? Expert Scooper? Super Duper Scooper?
  • Would you even feel like taking a lunch break? Ever?
  • And why have I seen ads for more than one company? Is there seriously competition for this job?
  • What does it sound like when these guys “talk shop?” Example:

MOE: How’s business?

CURLY: Oh, it’s picking up, how about you?

MOE: Oh, I’m cleaning up, man!

  • Do the dogs get to know you well enough to plan for your visits?
  • Have I really written over 300 words on this topic?

 

I obviously have way too much time to think.

 

Depression in a Nutshell from the Perspective of a Depressed Person

Here’s a very good explanation of what people with depression go through from someone who goes through it. For all my family and friends.

Depressed Express!

When you
hear a person say “I’m feeling depressed” or “I think I have depression” what’s
the first thing that comes into your mind?

For a lot
of people the “depression” is looked at the same vain as being sad, emotional
or alone. In my opinion, this is the worst misconception about DEPRESSION. Depression
is not just about being sad, emotional or alone. That is not the end all be all
of depression.

First of
all, if you feel that you’re experiencing depression you better get
professional help to get a proper diagnosis. Do not be afraid to see a
psychiatrist to have yourself checked. Do not let the stigma of depression
stopped you from seeking help. For years I felt I was experiencing depression. I
am turning thirty-two years old this year and it took me more than 2 decades to
seek…

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