You Were Dumb Before Facebook

“I don’t know what I would put in a will. I don’t think I would write one because I don’t want you and mom to worry about me killing myself.”

There are better conversations to have with your teenage son than death and suicide. Happier and more optimistic, lighter and less likely to make your eyes bug out even when the conversation goes as it should.

But we play the hand we are dealt and not with the cards we wish we were given.

I  like to think I have become adept at doing so and attribute some of it to what has happened during the last ten or so years.

It is a time in which I could say some of the people I hold most dear were taken or chose to leave. A time in which some of my biggest possessions were wrenched from my grasp.

When you are gifted with a grip like mine wrenched from my grasp is not something you expect or get used to saying.

But life is nothing but a roller-coaster of good, bad and in between so you get used to surprises.

You Were Dumb Before Facebook

I got unfriended again by another friend who said they couldn’t stomach my criticism of the president, especially because I keep using fake news to support my opinion.

I cannot confirm nor deny that I told said person they were dumb before Facebook but they were and are.

Can’t say I am going to miss being pitched for insurance, investments or any of the MLM stuff they would hit me with.

Those of you who don’t know me personally have no idea if the words you see here paint an accurate picture or not and I can’t say yes or no.

Not because I don’t have an opinion but because I can’t say if the mental image you have garnered is close or not.

Can’t say if it meets with how I perceive myself or if it is very different.

All I can tell you is I try to do as I teach my children to do and that is close my eyes feeling good about who I am and what I do.

Can’t say there aren’t bad days or bad moments.

Can’t say I have never done something I felt badly about doing afterwards but can say most of the time I feel pretty damn good.

And I can say I am relentless about some things and that includes criticizing an incompetent conman whose decisions have an impact upon my family and friends as well as fellow citizens.

It disgusts me to see the great divide in the country grow because the clown acts in ways that are detrimental to democracy.

Facts aren’t fake because we dislike them and criticism of the office shouldn’t be limited to saying things that are going to make Donnie feel good about himself.

And every time I wander onto his Facebook page I see a flood of people who say our kids shouldn’t receive participation trophies give one to Donnie.

It is sad, ridiculous and wrong.

If you are going to be POTUS you ought to be an adult who can deal with criticism and not let your insecurities force you to try to make others look small so you feel taller.

What Do You Think Of Hunting?

One of the guys from the other day asked me what I think of hunting and hunters.

“Depends on the person. Sometimes I hope their blind falls over and they shoot themselves in the ass or nuts. Sometimes I hope the deer/hog/squirrel gets in a decent shot on the hunter.

And sometimes I hope the hunter has good luck and comes back with their dreams fulfilled.”

“I don’t know if I want to get on your bad side.”

“There is nothing particularly wrong with being on my bad side unless you keep poking the bear. Keep poking and pressing and you might not like my response. But you only get that from me if you do things to earn my attention, otherwise I am happy to label you as a big oaf who I’ll ignore.”

“Are you sure you are not a grumpy old man?’

“I am not sure of much, but I am certain I have been lucky enough to find places where the village idiots congregate.”

One Day At A Time

I don’t know when his voice got to be as deep as my own but I know when we shout at each other people in the surrounding counties know it.

Doesn’t happen often, but when it does I make the face all parents of teens make.

The one that says “how can you be so damn smart and so damn stupid.” The one that wonders why they can’t just accept their mom/dad might know some thing about life because we have lived through things they haven’t.

I shouldn’t be surprised because I used to be him and it took years for me to teach my own father to be as smart as I am.

Shouldn’t be shocked that he is willing to do some of what he does because I have rarely if ever been afraid to do things my way.

I keep trying to help him avoid making my mistakes and to avoid doing things the hard way but I haven’t always been successful.


The joy of heartache is the way it magnifies how you feel and respond to events.

Under normal circumstances the coming week wouldn’t be something I looked at with narrowed eyes and suspicion.

It wouldn’t be a time of waiting for the other shoe to drop but given all that has happened and is going on I am feeling edgier.

That edge came out when someone shared a bunch of stats with me and I asked them how they were applicable and relevant.

“These are facts.”

“The speed limit is 75 in some places and slower in others. Water is wet, men can’t get pregnant and fools throw mud at the wall to see what sticks are facts too.”

“It is a fact that you have to be mentally ill to be a democrat.”

“I am not a democrat and I am bored talking with people who live in lollipop land.”

“I don’t live in lollipop land, I live in Indiana.”

I remind myself that old Winston had bigger challenges and responsibilities than I do.

All I need to do is take it one day at a time and we’ll get beyond the current hiccups and humps in the road.

But it is hard not growl at the reflection and tell him I don’t care if he had bigger challenges because mine aren’t made smaller or easier by the comparison.

Nor is there any chance of my being knighted by the queen or given money to write my memoirs.

Well, maybe not today, but you never know about the future.

Just have to put one foot in front of the other and see where the road takes us.

(Visited 25 times, 1 visits today)


Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Please enter an e-mail address

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

You may also like