I was there that day.
I saw what happened on the lane with my own two eyes and what I didn’t see doesn’t matter.
That’s because like our administration I know fake outrage trumps truth…always.
10 Pins In Hell: The Bowling Green Massacre
It was a hairy situation at the green on that fateful day.
They lined us up at the end of a long lane and then we watched and waited.
There was a loud rumble, followed by screams and some cheers.
I couldn’t believe the men from the loyal order of Water Buffaloes could cheer while my friends were bludgeoned by heavy objects.
Those prehistoric losers put us through 10 pins of hell.
Sometimes You’re Funny
That’s a description I can live with, maybe even one I can work with.
Hell, if I ever find myself in need of employment I might add it to my resume along with information that proves if I am hired I’ll be qualified and competent at my job.
Not everyone can say that and some of those who have chosen to go the fake it until you make it rout apparently aren’t smart enough to ask for help or admit when they don’t know the answer to the question you are asking.
Ya know I like that Golda Meir quote, especially if I am asked to do Karaoke ‘cuz the only way to sing Weekend in New England or Melt With You is like you are the cheesiest lounge singer ever.
Granted when you are given the gift of not singing well but singing loud the best song to sing is something like Louie, Louie or Whiskey River.
I have been writing like a fiend again, pushing out 10,000 words or so a day but not publishing most of it.
Call it the quest for sanity or something close to it.
I don’t know about you but every time I am getting ready to fly the friendly skies I come across YouTube videos or news stories about plane crashes.
It is not particularly comforting but I still believe I am going to live to be 130 unless the plane explodes and I fall plummet into a volcano that is filled with hot lava.
Sorry mom, don’t mean to write about such happy stuff, but ya know the men in the family have a habit of beating the odds.
That is why I know I can beat a rhino, ape, elephant or Great White Shark in combat.
Your baby boy has opposable thumbs, a vivid imagination and access to a tank and since I know the shark can’t drive a stick I am pretty secure in the outcome.
Not to mention an active imagination which is probably why I am one the Bowling Green Massacre survivors, or as some minions would say, a hater but I digress.
Hustling The Flow
A long while ago someone told me I was hustling the flow.
It led to one hell of a long conversation and convinced me that my favorite conversations almost always are with people I have a connection with.
You know the kind, the one where you know that you can talk for hours about anything and never notice the time passing.
Well, you could when you were young and your prostate didn’t scream because you drank 182 ounces of coffee, but I digress.
Sometimes I think about expressions that sound like they could be ridiculous or quite wise and wonder if I ought to try to become an artist.
I could make like Pollock and throw a bunch of paint at a wall and then glue items to it and talk about how it is my expression of the absurdity of life.
Modern art, doesn’t have to make sense and as an artist I could blame my own quirks and oddities upon that.
Or I could become a billionaire because the rich are eccentric right?
Well, some are, others are stupid and a select few earn the technical term of fucking stupid.
Speaking of artists, one of the graphic kind suggested I try to use the same font the quotes here.
I probably should but then again I have a long list of things I probably should do.
I probably should learn how to play the guitar and the piano and I probably should start some sort of food diary to figure out what is wreaking havoc.
I probably should push harder in some areas and not push at all in others.
Fade To Black
Soft music plays as a man mumbles about survivor’s guilt.
Arms circle round him and another voice tells him it is ok, he should be glad he survived 10 pins in hell.