Sunday, February 26, 2012
Cranelegs Twit #2
Have you ever said to a stranger "thats not something you see every day" & then realize the stranger is blind. If you haven't, it's awkward.
Christian Cherry Picker
Rick Santorum is what I find so hypocritical of politicians (and regular folk for that matter) who proclaim their faith as some sort of divine guiding light, especially when used as the war cry of their campaign.
Rick Santorum—forever sighting his faith when talking about his pro-life, pro-family, and pro-heterosexual values. He tells us it is all a result of his deeply rooted Catholic upbringing. The same Catholic upbringing that taught him anti-war, anti-guns, anti-poverty, anti-death penalty and anti-undocumented immigrant deportation. So where is he on those Catholic values? In Santorum World, that's where.
I honestly think if Rick and I were to put check marks next to the values we share with the Catholic church, I'd end up being more Catholic the good old Rick.
And that is exactly the problem. You can't cherry pick the parts of your faith you believe and the ones you dismiss. Otherwise, what's the point?
Ya see, the truth is most of us do exactly that. We cherry pick. Why? Because we have issues. We're not perfect, which is why we don't go around preaching to others about how our cherries are the best. I'll be the first to tell you, some of mine are downright rotten, and I'm an agnostic with Baptist roots for cryin' out loud. It just seems to me that Rick's claims of guiding faith strike of some moral elitism, based in hand selecting those values that suit his needs and fears.
In a perverse way, I really hope he gets the nomination. Only then will the sleeping America, which he's so certain exists, lay an electoral whooping on his buttocks and those of his ilk in the Senate and House. This moral compass correction is really overdue.
And after he falls, maybe he should head back to his family and share in the raising of his clan, like many of us already do, without, I might add, being lectured to by the likes of a moral elitist, the likes of a Rick Santorum, a Christian Cherry Picker, hypocritical to boot.
Rick Santorum—forever sighting his faith when talking about his pro-life, pro-family, and pro-heterosexual values. He tells us it is all a result of his deeply rooted Catholic upbringing. The same Catholic upbringing that taught him anti-war, anti-guns, anti-poverty, anti-death penalty and anti-undocumented immigrant deportation. So where is he on those Catholic values? In Santorum World, that's where.
I honestly think if Rick and I were to put check marks next to the values we share with the Catholic church, I'd end up being more Catholic the good old Rick.
And that is exactly the problem. You can't cherry pick the parts of your faith you believe and the ones you dismiss. Otherwise, what's the point?
Ya see, the truth is most of us do exactly that. We cherry pick. Why? Because we have issues. We're not perfect, which is why we don't go around preaching to others about how our cherries are the best. I'll be the first to tell you, some of mine are downright rotten, and I'm an agnostic with Baptist roots for cryin' out loud. It just seems to me that Rick's claims of guiding faith strike of some moral elitism, based in hand selecting those values that suit his needs and fears.
In a perverse way, I really hope he gets the nomination. Only then will the sleeping America, which he's so certain exists, lay an electoral whooping on his buttocks and those of his ilk in the Senate and House. This moral compass correction is really overdue.
And after he falls, maybe he should head back to his family and share in the raising of his clan, like many of us already do, without, I might add, being lectured to by the likes of a moral elitist, the likes of a Rick Santorum, a Christian Cherry Picker, hypocritical to boot.
From the Desk of Holden Caulfield #2
Boy I hate my job & anyone who says I should be happy to have one can have mine, and then we'll see how chipper they are in a week or so.
The Year of Living Dangerously
"Man oh man, this turning sixty is really getting to me."
"What do you mean, hon?"
"I don't know. Like just yesterday I was playing back some of my ordinary life. Sorta like a movie."
"Did ya fall asleep in the middle?"
"Funny. Very funny. I'm serious."
"Sorry. Couldn't help it. So what did you see?"
"Not a whole lot to be honest. Which got me to thinking about how I wished I had taken advantage of my twenties a little more."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, I wish I had taken the opportunity to sow my wild oats. Nothing too crazy. Just a few oats here and there would have been great."
Keaton stared at me for the longest time, until it was all interrupted by this god awful laugh only she can produce in these situations. She was trying to contain herself as she spoke.
"That's what you came up with? Sowing wild oats? Oh that's a good one. Please, take it from me, a person who knows you pretty intimately, the only oats you ever had were over-processed. Wild oats? Now, that's a good one. And as far as the sowing goes, you can't even sow tomatoes and we live in Jersey, tomato central."
She started laughing again, raising her hand and shaking it, as if apologizing, except she wasn't. She was trying to collect herself.
"So you don't think I have what it takes to sow some wild oats? That's pretty much what you are saying."
She could barely speak.
"That's right, bucko."
"Hmm ... well don't be so sure sister!"
"I'm so sure that even though your birthday is past and you have all your gifts. I'm going to give you one more. How about that?"
"And what would that be? A hoe and pitchfork?"
"Well, you may have part of that right. I'm going to give you one year to sow those wild oats of yours."
"Get outta of here."
"No, I'm serious. One year. Happy birthday."
"Nah ... this is some sort of feminist trickery."
"Nope! It's my gift to you."
"You're serious?"
"Haven't been so serious since I gave you the silent treatment for killing my prized climbing Clematis vine in that mistaken poison ivy identity thing you pulled."
"You're not kidding are you?"
"I'm telling you. Go out and sow those oats of the wild kind."
"Wow! I'm not sure what to say."
"A simple thank you would do fine."
"Okay then, thank you."
I tentatively reached out to shake her hand. I'm not sure why. She shook my hand vigorously in return.
"All righty then. I guess that about wraps this up," I said, "Look, I promise I'll be discreet. Ya know, I don't want to hurt your feelings or nothin'."
"You discreet? That's almost as funny as wild oats. Don't worry. I'll be fine because they're over-processed. You'll see.If anything, it'll be kinda sad a year from now. Because you'll be all sulky."
"We'll see who will be sulking. One year?"
"That's right one year and it starts right now."
"No strings attached," I asked one last time.
"One more question and I'm returning the gift. So go! You don't have much time."
I gave her a kiss, and she just laughed and walked away.
A whole year. What a present. So I grabbed some pretzels and an ice cold beer and started to think about how I'd do this. To be honest, the first step would have to be getting the old wild oats all fired up again. I'd have to find them first though.
I know they must be around here somewhere.
Oh baby!
"What do you mean, hon?"
"I don't know. Like just yesterday I was playing back some of my ordinary life. Sorta like a movie."
"Did ya fall asleep in the middle?"
"Funny. Very funny. I'm serious."
"Sorry. Couldn't help it. So what did you see?"
"Not a whole lot to be honest. Which got me to thinking about how I wished I had taken advantage of my twenties a little more."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, I wish I had taken the opportunity to sow my wild oats. Nothing too crazy. Just a few oats here and there would have been great."
Keaton stared at me for the longest time, until it was all interrupted by this god awful laugh only she can produce in these situations. She was trying to contain herself as she spoke.
"That's what you came up with? Sowing wild oats? Oh that's a good one. Please, take it from me, a person who knows you pretty intimately, the only oats you ever had were over-processed. Wild oats? Now, that's a good one. And as far as the sowing goes, you can't even sow tomatoes and we live in Jersey, tomato central."
She started laughing again, raising her hand and shaking it, as if apologizing, except she wasn't. She was trying to collect herself.
"So you don't think I have what it takes to sow some wild oats? That's pretty much what you are saying."
She could barely speak.
"That's right, bucko."
"Hmm ... well don't be so sure sister!"
"I'm so sure that even though your birthday is past and you have all your gifts. I'm going to give you one more. How about that?"
"And what would that be? A hoe and pitchfork?"
"Well, you may have part of that right. I'm going to give you one year to sow those wild oats of yours."
"Get outta of here."
"No, I'm serious. One year. Happy birthday."
"Nah ... this is some sort of feminist trickery."
"Nope! It's my gift to you."
"You're serious?"
"Haven't been so serious since I gave you the silent treatment for killing my prized climbing Clematis vine in that mistaken poison ivy identity thing you pulled."
"You're not kidding are you?"
"I'm telling you. Go out and sow those oats of the wild kind."
"Wow! I'm not sure what to say."
"A simple thank you would do fine."
"Okay then, thank you."
I tentatively reached out to shake her hand. I'm not sure why. She shook my hand vigorously in return.
"All righty then. I guess that about wraps this up," I said, "Look, I promise I'll be discreet. Ya know, I don't want to hurt your feelings or nothin'."
"You discreet? That's almost as funny as wild oats. Don't worry. I'll be fine because they're over-processed. You'll see.If anything, it'll be kinda sad a year from now. Because you'll be all sulky."
"We'll see who will be sulking. One year?"
"That's right one year and it starts right now."
"No strings attached," I asked one last time.
"One more question and I'm returning the gift. So go! You don't have much time."
I gave her a kiss, and she just laughed and walked away.
A whole year. What a present. So I grabbed some pretzels and an ice cold beer and started to think about how I'd do this. To be honest, the first step would have to be getting the old wild oats all fired up again. I'd have to find them first though.
I know they must be around here somewhere.
Oh baby!
Monday, February 20, 2012
A Complicated Observation
Whoever said technology simplifies life is a fool. Technology complicates life, if it does anything. Immeasurably.
Just the other day, I somehow managed to get the DVD player to work on the Flat Screen TV. When I was done with the movie, I had lost my cable TV and unable to figure out how to get things back to normal. And with the Knickerbocker's Jeremy Lin show about to begin, I was fit to be tied.
Now the fact that I was able to pull this stunt off while sitting comfortably on the couch, using no less than three remotes, doesn't make it any more appealing. I'd give it all up to stand up and walk over to press some goddam buttons on the goddam DVD player just like in the olden days of VCR players, but there weren't any butttons to push. It was seamless! All in the name of simplicity!
The only thing technology simplifies is getting all f'd up!
Just the other day, I somehow managed to get the DVD player to work on the Flat Screen TV. When I was done with the movie, I had lost my cable TV and unable to figure out how to get things back to normal. And with the Knickerbocker's Jeremy Lin show about to begin, I was fit to be tied.
Now the fact that I was able to pull this stunt off while sitting comfortably on the couch, using no less than three remotes, doesn't make it any more appealing. I'd give it all up to stand up and walk over to press some goddam buttons on the goddam DVD player just like in the olden days of VCR players, but there weren't any butttons to push. It was seamless! All in the name of simplicity!
The only thing technology simplifies is getting all f'd up!
A Simple Observation
The alternative to life is not death, no more so than the alternative to war is peace. An alternative to war is throwing tomatoes at each other until one side runs out. An alternative to peace is growing a lot of tomatoes. But life has no alternative. Nor does death. They are what they are. And the sooner I catch on to this rather simple, if not elegant, observation, the sooner I'll start living like I mean it.
The Best Present Ever
It wasn't just a good night last night. It was a great night. Keaton managed to pull off a fantastic birthday dinner. A five course, chef served tasting at a table sitting right outside the open kitchen. That was the good part.
The great part was the company, which included yours truly. of course the delightful Keaton, my pseudo step daughter, Alix, her boyfriend of many years, Ed (my nickname, which is short for Eating Disorder), my son, and the part that made it great, his girlfriend, Miss X.
Why, you might ask.
Well, I'm gonna tell ya.
The great part was the company, which included yours truly. of course the delightful Keaton, my pseudo step daughter, Alix, her boyfriend of many years, Ed (my nickname, which is short for Eating Disorder), my son, and the part that made it great, his girlfriend, Miss X.
Why, you might ask.
Well, I'm gonna tell ya.
From the desk of Holden Caulfield #1
God I have a terrific headache. It feels like a dame hit my skull with a hammer 3 or 4 times. Dames can be that way if you scorn them badly.
Cranelegs Twit #1
So you know how sometimes you imagine certain couples having sex? I do anyway. Well, Gingrich & that blonde appendage of his made me stop.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Tight Pants, Dustin Hoffman and Meryl Streep
If I'm not mistaken, I think it was June of 1983. It was nice out. That I do remember. The sky had that magical blue color that you might see once or twice a month. The air was crisp. Not cold crisp. Clean crisp. And I was wandering up Sixth Avenue in Manhattan on my way to a company I had never heard of before. I was in search of a job. This is what you do when in the throes of unemployment.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
He's Back LIke a Goddam Nightmare!
I really can't believe this. Rick Insantorum is back. Doesn't he have anything better to do than to do this. This running for President thing. It's downright nuts. I mean, now I'm going to have to get up off my ample buttocks and man the Obama campaign phones again. I hate doing that. I really do. Almost as much as I hate asking strangers for spare change for chrissakes.
Oh well, I pulled out this little gem of an article I wrote some seven years ago. This is why the man is a goddam, living nightmare!
I'm gettin' too old for this, I tell ya!
Why Rick Insantorum is a Nightmare
Oh well, I pulled out this little gem of an article I wrote some seven years ago. This is why the man is a goddam, living nightmare!
I'm gettin' too old for this, I tell ya!
Why Rick Insantorum is a Nightmare
Sunday, January 22, 2012
I suppose I should say something ...
"Met some fantastic people," is the first thing that comes to mind. "Made some good friends along the way," is another. "Even came close to getting published," is something I'll always keep in mind. Good stuff really.
Ya know, there is something about this writing humor thing that will never go away, and although I haven't felt the funny for some time or haven't had that itch to put words to my crazy thoughts in half a year, I suspect it is still right there. In my soul. Just biding its time for the right moment.
This isn't it. The time that is.
I'm thinking maybe the summer. Yeah, the summer. I'd like that. I'd like to start something new too. Don't know what. Mysterious possibly. Under a pseudonym. Yeah, I'd like that too. In the meantime, I'll continue to tweet from time to time so that I don't rust completely. I don't want to become the Tin Man of blogging.
So don't get all nuts if this site comes down, as I turn a blog page, so to speak.
To quote Arnold, "I'll be back."
Ya know, there is something about this writing humor thing that will never go away, and although I haven't felt the funny for some time or haven't had that itch to put words to my crazy thoughts in half a year, I suspect it is still right there. In my soul. Just biding its time for the right moment.
This isn't it. The time that is.
I'm thinking maybe the summer. Yeah, the summer. I'd like that. I'd like to start something new too. Don't know what. Mysterious possibly. Under a pseudonym. Yeah, I'd like that too. In the meantime, I'll continue to tweet from time to time so that I don't rust completely. I don't want to become the Tin Man of blogging.
So don't get all nuts if this site comes down, as I turn a blog page, so to speak.
To quote Arnold, "I'll be back."
Saturday, August 20, 2011
A Tribute to JD Salinger
Since I'm going to be hiating for a bit, I want to leave what is my personal favorite piece. It's an impersonation of Holden Caulfield telling a true story of my first introduction to "The Catcher in the Rye". All I can say is that as it turned out, Mrs. Shangle was right.
Click on this link to read: A Tribute to JD Salinger
Click on this link to read: A Tribute to JD Salinger
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
stuff
i've been remiss lately.
i'm not sure i can do this much more.
life's like that.
twists.
turns.
and stuff.
i'm not sure i can do this much more.
life's like that.
twists.
turns.
and stuff.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
bye bye dunny bradmore
so i met with my life coach, dunny bradmore, yesterday.
i've decided i'm going to stop seeing him.
not because my life is now stellar or anything like that.
it's because the car ride is just too long.
i have to go all the way down to trenton state prison, and there is the whole security thing, and the waiting around.
ya see, dunny is doing time for littering of all things.
well, littering an alley full of dismembered bodies and what not.
oh, he's something, that dunny is.
i mean, don't get me wrong, he's worth every carton of cigarettes i pay him.
now, that's not to say i could do without the plexiglas barrier and tinny phones we have to use, because those depress me to no end.
they really do.
but even so, he's a good listener and always has some thought-provoking doozey to say at the end of our session.
well, just like yesterday for instance, when he told me it's not enough to get my life on track, that i need to start to think about being the best dead person i can be.
he recommended i consider getting a death coach and that he knew one from riker's that might be perfect for me.
when ya really think about it, there is a lot to be said about being the best dead person one can be.
a lot.
there really is.
i sure do know a lot of people who are going to be just terrible dead people.
charlie sheen and zsa zsa gabor immediately comes to mind.
yeah, i want go out, and stay out, real dignified like.
i want to have a fully realized afterlife.
it just strikes a chord with me.
not that i'm in a hurry for chrissakes because i'm not at all.
and that's the truth for sure.
in fact, i'd like to get this living stuff down first before i tackle being a good corpse for crying out loud.
to be honest, it only makes sense to think about it that way, which is why life coaching comes in handy.
without it, i'd have this all out of kilter.
even so, dunny says i need to set time aside for death coaching.
he admits that being a life coach and given his propensity to dismember folks and all, he isn't up to speed on what death coaching entails.
he jokingly likes to say the devil is in the body parts.
he sure can be a pip when he wants to be.
regardless of being a pip, he is serious about this coaching advice of his.
well, old dunny there sure has me thinking about it anyway.
gonna miss our sessions.
don't have the heart or compassion to tell him i'm not coming back.
i figure it might just make him stark raving mad when he sits there waiting for me and i don't show up.
but i'm betting on the fact he never gets out to pay me a little visit, so, i'm feeling okay about not telling him.
the truth is, i don't much care for conflict, and telling dunny our seesions are over would create plenty.
i know it's not very nice on my part to think that way, even quite shallow, and i don't feel particularly good about myself right this moment, which is why i probably need more life coaching for sure.
yeah, i need more.
maybe a few years worth minimum.
most likely the better part of the decade.
then i'll find myself a death coach.
i wonder if it's covered in the new healthcare bill.
that would be terrific.
oh well.
boy, i'm gonna miss dunny.
that's the goddam truth, that is.
i've decided i'm going to stop seeing him.
not because my life is now stellar or anything like that.
it's because the car ride is just too long.
i have to go all the way down to trenton state prison, and there is the whole security thing, and the waiting around.
ya see, dunny is doing time for littering of all things.
well, littering an alley full of dismembered bodies and what not.
oh, he's something, that dunny is.
i mean, don't get me wrong, he's worth every carton of cigarettes i pay him.
now, that's not to say i could do without the plexiglas barrier and tinny phones we have to use, because those depress me to no end.
they really do.
but even so, he's a good listener and always has some thought-provoking doozey to say at the end of our session.
well, just like yesterday for instance, when he told me it's not enough to get my life on track, that i need to start to think about being the best dead person i can be.
he recommended i consider getting a death coach and that he knew one from riker's that might be perfect for me.
when ya really think about it, there is a lot to be said about being the best dead person one can be.
a lot.
there really is.
i sure do know a lot of people who are going to be just terrible dead people.
charlie sheen and zsa zsa gabor immediately comes to mind.
yeah, i want go out, and stay out, real dignified like.
i want to have a fully realized afterlife.
it just strikes a chord with me.
not that i'm in a hurry for chrissakes because i'm not at all.
and that's the truth for sure.
in fact, i'd like to get this living stuff down first before i tackle being a good corpse for crying out loud.
to be honest, it only makes sense to think about it that way, which is why life coaching comes in handy.
without it, i'd have this all out of kilter.
even so, dunny says i need to set time aside for death coaching.
he admits that being a life coach and given his propensity to dismember folks and all, he isn't up to speed on what death coaching entails.
he jokingly likes to say the devil is in the body parts.
he sure can be a pip when he wants to be.
regardless of being a pip, he is serious about this coaching advice of his.
well, old dunny there sure has me thinking about it anyway.
gonna miss our sessions.
don't have the heart or compassion to tell him i'm not coming back.
i figure it might just make him stark raving mad when he sits there waiting for me and i don't show up.
but i'm betting on the fact he never gets out to pay me a little visit, so, i'm feeling okay about not telling him.
the truth is, i don't much care for conflict, and telling dunny our seesions are over would create plenty.
i know it's not very nice on my part to think that way, even quite shallow, and i don't feel particularly good about myself right this moment, which is why i probably need more life coaching for sure.
yeah, i need more.
maybe a few years worth minimum.
most likely the better part of the decade.
then i'll find myself a death coach.
i wonder if it's covered in the new healthcare bill.
that would be terrific.
oh well.
boy, i'm gonna miss dunny.
that's the goddam truth, that is.
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