Blog # 330                               July 6, 2023

 

What are you good at?  I’m having trouble answering that question.  I cannot go anywhere without getting lost.  I cannot fix a toilet or anything else.  I don’t know how to use Twitter or grow plants or open those stupid produce bags at the grocery store.  I could go on forever about the things that I’m bad at, but I’m bad at remembering them all.  I’m not strong like Superman or handsome like George Clooney, or humble like Donald Trump, and I often feel about as useless as a Munchkin at a Globetrotters’ practice.  No, I’m not Mr. Right.  But I am not completely without skills.  I am pretty good at writing little poems, speeches and songs.  Not a bad talent, mostly frivolous, but handy to have at times.  No, I’m not Mr. Right, but I’m close.  I’m Mr. Write.

I actually enjoy writing.  It’s “the most intimate, solitary pleasure that one can imagine” says Gabriel García Márquez, so let’s see what I can write for you today.  First of all, hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are feeling happy in this hot month of July.  “People don’t notice whether it’s winter or summer when they’re happy,” said Anton Chekhov, and he was surely a happy fellow.

Message from Shakespeare:  I like writing to you too.  And I can quote people too, like that Shakespeare dude.  He said, “He capers, he dances . . . he writes verses (The Merry Wives of Windsor).  And I can write verses too.  Here’s one:

I have to leave you now.

                   I’ll write next week.  Meow.

 

Shakespeare and I both hope you’re feeling well.  I’ve recently had my standard semi-annual blood test.  Wait, is it biannual or semi-annual?  That has always confused me, so I Googled.  The answer was that either word can be used to mean either every two years or twice a year, so you’re safer just saying “twice a year”.    My twice-a-year blood test revealed that my HDL, LDL, PSA, QVC, ESPN and MTV are all exemplary.  My medical complaints to you throughout the years have, of course, been tongue in cheek, which can be very painful.  Anyway, thanks to the miracles of modern medicine, I’m doing great.  I have an artificial joint in my right hip, a pacemaker in my chest, a female cornea transplant in my left eye and some guy’s cornea in my right.  I have more replacement parts than an ’87 Chevy.  But you can still recognize me – just look for the guy who is ten paces behind a comely, fast-walking woman.

 

And I sleep like a baby.  Isn’t that a strange expression – sleep like a baby?  Babies wake up every two hours, crying and spitting.  Who would want to sleep like a baby?  Another strange expression is -- she’s like a sister to me.  Do you have wonderful, loving and considerate sisters?  My sister was like an erratic, psychotic cuckoo clock to me.  So next time I say, “You’re like a sister to me,” don’t make the mistake of taking it as a compliment.

 

And my brother, by the way, was an eccentric, bizarre Dickens character who saved toilet-paper rolls, so it should not be a surprise to you that my brain is at times unstable.  You seem to like it enough to come back every week, so let’s move on.  Our Weekly Word is comely.  It means having a pleasing appearance.

 

The trial of the Idaho student killer is about to start, but if he is convicted and sentenced to die, Idaho may have a problem.  The Idaho law specifies that executions should be performed with a lethal injection, but recently it has been impossible to obtain the requisite drugs because no manufacturer wants to make them, so Idaho will use a firing squad.  Arkansas has a different solution.  Last month, a condemned Arkansas man was fed his final meal and brought out to the courtyard.  He was blindfolded, placed against a wall and given a cigarette.  When he asked, “How long will it be before the firing squad shoots me?” the Warden reluctantly admitted, “We don’t actually have a firing squad.  We just make you keep smoking.”

 

I would like to suggest a method of execution much cheaper and easier than lethal injections or firing squads. Put the condemned in a small room that contains a chair, a television that plays continuous reruns of The View and a bottle of poison.  It shouldn’t take long.

 

I’d shoot myself right in the head

Or swallow that poison instead

If you make this poor boy

Watch Whoopi and Joy

It’d be a relief to be dead.

 

The FIFA Women’s World Cup (that’s soccer) will begin this month, with the USA being the reigning champions.  I love women’s soccer.  My three daughters played it, and my favorite player on the USA team is the fabulous Megan Rapinoe.  But I also think she is an embarrassment to the team.  Not because of her feet; she is terrific – because of her mouth!  She will never put her hand over her heart during the National Anthem; she will never sing the National Anthem; she will never visit the “f***ing White House”.  These are all things she has said, and has every right to say in this country.  Here’s what I want to know, why is someone who refuses to respect the USA flag, refuses to sing the USA National Anthem, hates the USA President and hates the USA iconic home of government – why is such a person playing for the USA?  There are enough people around the world who hate Americans.  We don’t need to compete in Australia and New Zealand with an American player ragging on her flag, her anthem and her President while wearing USA on her shirt.

 

You’re probably mad at me by now, and here’s why:

 

·        I ragged on the View

·        I ragged on Megan Rapinoe

·        I mentioned Gabriel Garcia Márquez, Anton Chekhov and Dickens.  Too many authors.

 

Well, here’s another one –Richard Backman said, “You hardly ever disappoint anybody if you just stay silent.”   But I won’t apologize and I won’t be silent.  I just might be lonely.  No, you’ll come back next week, won’t you?  I need you.  You’re like sisters and brothers to me.  Count your blessings, stay well and don’t stay silent.

 

Mr. Write                                          Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com