Misinformed & Misunderstood Meet The Meshugehnehs

The music moves from Rob Zombie’s The Great American Nightmare to U2’s Hawkmoon while the symphony inside my head accompanies the story I ought to put down on paper.

It is going to come out one day and when it is released from its secret world you’ll get a glimpse of something magic and mysterious.

That is assuming I choose to let you know what you are looking at and don’t weave a giant tapestry that is only understood by the very few.

Misinformed & Misunderstood Meet The Meshugehnehs

Dad started dialysis and I thought about how much time has passed since I was truly a kid and now.

Thought about all I have experienced and been through and  how I look at houses and try to figure out if the schools are any good.

Wandered through neighborhoods and thought about how in the blink of an eye I’ll have to pack and move and hope I have made a good choice based upon limited information.

Stood under an amazing endless Texas blue sky that was littered was cotton candy like clouds and thought about the walls I have had to scale and those I have had to tear down.

No one told me that life could ever be as crazy as it has been and I can’t say I am particularly upset by it.

Whenever the end comes I will be able to say I have lived a life. I have a collection of experiences not everyone gets and loved hard.


The collection of wingnuts and whackjobs have a radar that always finds me.

This time I am told my biggest problem is I don’t want to admit Forrest Trump is misunderstood.

“There is a difference between being misunderstood and misinformed. He is misinformed and blames his ignorance upon your misunderstanding. If you are dumb enough to believe a conman, well that is your deal. Not mine.”

He tells me I am being nasty like that Colbert guy and I laugh.

“I have been kind, but if you want nasty I can bring it. It has been a very hard time and I would be happy to blow off steam by unloading the nasty sitting in the back of my head.”

He chooses not to engage and part of me thinks that is a good thing but there is another that sort of looked forward to hitting him with waves of fact that he can call nasty.

Lamar James & The Furious Five

Someone I know referred to LeBron as Lamar James.

It sounded like he could be the front man for a band called Lamar James and The Furious Five.

That would be his second band because he would have left the first one to try and form a super band so he could win a Grammy.

Somewhere in the midst of this nonsense I realized LeBron is 32 and wondered how much time he has left.

There is a lot of mileage on that body and time catches up with all of us. If he doesn’t have a major injury I am guessing he has about two years or so before he goes from superstar to great player.

It could be more, but it could be less too.

If you are a cavs fan you better hope for longer because without him the team doesn’t have a shot at winning a championship.

But that is not what this is about, it is more of a comment about how young he really is. In basketball years he is getting to be an old man, but not in real life.

If he was an average Joe working a desk job he might have made it to middle management, but unless something crazy happened he would probably know he had another 30 years or so of work to put in.

That is not the case, might be for me. I might need to put another 30 years in before I can retire, but not him.

I don’t begrudge LeBron or any other pro athlete that is able to secure that kind of cash, but I hope they appreciate the gift and how lucky they are.

You’re Hard To Talk To

I am standing outside a bar in Florida looking for shooting stars while keeping an eye out for wandering alligators when my musing is interrupted by a guy who wants a cigarette.

“Sorry brother, I don’t sm0ke.”

We shoot the breeze and I confess that sometime I like smoking a cigar.

“It is not often, but I do enjoy it. Reminds me of my grandfathers.”

We got back and forth some more and I ask him if he left any beer for the rest of us.

He laughs and says there is plenty and rattles off something I can’t quite make out. I cock my head to the side, like a dog that just heard something squeaky and ask him to repeat himself.

“You are hard to talk to.”

I smile and tell him some people say I am very intense but no one says I am hard to talk to, at least not if I like them.

“I am not very good at small talk with people I am not fond of.”

“Blugrh, baby gesundheit coventry shmo kai”

That might not be verbatim, but whatever he said might have translated into something that looked just like that, certainly sounded like it.


A few more words.

Zeppelin is one of my all time favorite bands and Kashmir one of my very favorite songs.

If you want to know me then you need to spend time listening to this with me and have a serious conversation, but that is a separate discussion.

Part of what I like about the video below is watching the guys because it looks like they’re having fun.

That is pretty cool, especially since they have been playing together for about 50 years. In fact, there is a rumor there is going to be a reunion in Indio this coming summer.

That would be a hell of a concert to go to, one of the few reasons to be in Indio…in the summer.

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