Blog #384                                July 18, 2024

 

I don’t know what to say about the shooting of Donald Trump.  Besides, you’ve been listening to every person who has a mouth for over four days now and there’s nothing left to say.

 

But, as long as you’re here already, drinking your orange juice and resting in your comfy chair, here’s what I think.  The media is awash in well-worn and ridiculously jejune stupidities.  “This is not acceptable.”  “This is not who we are.”  “We have to come together.”  That’s all great, but the truth is that the world is never at a loss for crazy people who for some reason decide to shoot a candidate.  Lee Harvey Oswald shot and killed John Kennedy.  Sirhan Sirhan shot and killed Robert Kennedy.  Reagan was shot; Ford was attacked twice. You can’t follow everybody in the country.  You can’t know who is the next would-be assassin.  And you can’t protect a candidate or sitting President from every danger.  It’s just not possible.  The world is teeming with evil.  The only original idea I heard all week came from the girls on The View.  We all know they hate Trump worse than ants in their purse, but they were horrified by the assassination attempt.

 

The shooting of Trump was a shame

But he’s just got his big mouth to blame

It all makes us sick

Maybe next time they’ll pick

A guy who has got better aim.

 

Let’s talk about something more pleasant, like the Weekly Word.  Jejune (both Js are pronounced like the French pronounce the J in Jacques) means naïve, simplistic and superficial.

 

Or maybe we should talk about movies.  Rotten Oyster:  Parker, my 12-year-old grandson from California was in town last week and, among other adventures, we went to see Despicable Me 4.  If you like cartoons, and if you’ve seen any of the other Despicable Me movies, this one’s truly entertaining.  I chuckled throughout the whole thing.  The only drawback was that buying a movie ticket has become as intricate as buying a car.  Do you want the 3D version?  Do you want food delivered?  Do you want the seats to recline?  For $49.50 a ticket, you can have a seat that’ll heat up your ass like a flapjack while massaging your prostate.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well and learning how to play Name That Candidate.  In 1960, John Kennedy and Richard Nixon were both in their 40s, two Young White Men vying for the Presidency of the United States.  Now, sixty years later, it’s another election year and who are the candidates?  Two Old White Men in their 70s or 80s.  It doesn’t seem like our country has made progress; it just seems like it has grown old.

 

Will Joe Biden be the Democrat candidate in November?  Or will it be Kamala?  Or Michelle Obama?  Or Hillary Clinton?  Maybe Kamala and Michelle should be on the same ticket: the Kamala Obamala Ticket. I’ve heard talk that the Majority Leader of the Senate is going to run.  That’s the Schumer Rumor.  Or maybe we all should just vote for Tony the Tiger. MAKE AMERICA GRRRRREAT AGAIN!   Or maybe somebody is going to shoot them all.  Sorry, but that’s on my mind.  This is what it’s like being inside my head.  I’ve warned you.  Some people have a train of thought; I have a train wreck!

 

Let’s talk about old people.  I seem to do that a lot, but giraffes have giraffes, apples grow on apple trees and old people talk about old people.  For instance, I’m sure you have noticed that old folks, to a large degree, are slow drivers, and I want to explain to you why we are.  It’s not that our eyes are blurred or our reflexes are poor.  No, the real reason we drive slowly is that we are no longer in a hurry.  Where do we have to go, Senior Day at Walgreens?  It can wait.  When you’re young you want everything to come fast.

 

·        I can’t wait to get a driver’s license

·        I can’t wait till I get rich.

·        I can’t wait till my kids are grown and I have some time to myself.

·        Just ten more years and I’ll have it made.

 

I have never heard a senior say, “Just ten more years and I’ll have it made.”  We can wait.  We have nothing else to do but wait.  Besides, what could I possibly be looking forward to in ten years – Barbra Streisand’s 88^th Farewell Concert?  What difference does it really make if I miss that green light?  I’ll just get to the Dollar Store thirty seconds later.  So don’t honk at me.  Relax, slow down, take a breath.  One of these days you won’t be in such a hurry any more.

 

 

As you know, I often dwell on funerals and burial options.  Here are my latest thoughts.  Most people really don’t want to trudge out in the weather to visit an old grave in a depressing cemetery. We should bury our loved ones indoors, in a big warehouse, and then turn it into a bar.  Every night we could have a special memorial time called Sad Hour where we pay respects to Grandma while eating half-priced calamari.   At least I know Carol will be thinking of me over a chilled Chardonnay and a fried artichoke.  “C’mon, girls, I need a drink; let’s go visit what’s his name.”   And she could drink a toast to my memory while laying empty mussel shells on my plaque.  They’ll call the place “Shots & Plots” or “Tears with Beers” or something goofy like that.

 

I like the idea of people gathering over drinks and food and remembering their loved ones.  I can hear them now: “Wasn’t Grandma terrific!” or “My Mom was such a good cook!” or “My Michael sure had a train-wreck for a brain.  Pass the cocktail sauce.”

 

Message from Shakespeare:  Not in a grave, to lay one in, another out to have (Romeo and Juliet).  I want to be buried right next to my Pops.  One big headstone for him and nine little ones for me.  Purr.

 

Well, it’s time to go.  My trainwreck needs to rest its caboose.  I’ll come back next week and tickle your fancy or any other part you prefer.  Stay well and count your blessings.

 

Michael                                    Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com