When I said to my wife – no names please – “We need another loom, like a hole in the head.” I meant it; and, I am, indeed capable (of drilling holes in your/mine head, as a retired neurosurgeon! Later that day a large heavy box arrived. A cat tower! It’s taller than my (same, present, nut) wife. What?! Wut?!! W#$hat#$!! The cats paid no attention. We had to put them on it. No, nope, never! Yup! Since then, they have been all over it! Darn! Another piece of furniture that I have no space for! (Would this be the proverbial “dangling preposition?”
No more!? Stuff!? No more stuff? No, more stuff! What a difference a comma makes. “,” one little punctuation point. No more cats?! Another loom? They were giving it away at the Thrift Store. Yeah, $550. Ok! Price reduced! We bargained down – way way down (under $100) – the provenance? It was made in Marblehead MA. It was a therapy loom – Devereaux, for insane people in recovery rehab. Oh! How appropriate! Bookstores?! No more! We just went through our bookcases…. A ton of books lie on the floor waiting to go to donation. Go!? No!? I don’t know. Magazines find us. And, books leap into Colleen’s arms. And magazines!! Still!? Yeah, it is a cute antique loom made centuries ago. A real antique. I have no room! It’ sitting in the hall landing. Help!?
…perhaps Sisyphus. The bookstore (unnamed) has a full-time gal whose job it is is to replace the magazines in the rack. Perhaps, it might be wrack? Or, perhaps rack – torture instrument? Her job (never-ending) is to replace outdated mags. Out with the old and in with the new. Weeklies and monthlies come in every week. There are tons! No sooner is one batch out, another comes in.
What is so shameful is that the old are discarded. Trash! There is no recycling. None! No deep discount sale – say 75%. None! Trash! It’s a crying waste. Schools, hospitals, businesses could use… but no! There’s an opportunity lost here. I’m all out of volunteering effort. But….
guilty! We hang out in the bookstore and read current mags. I don’t feel so bad any longer. Consider it, pawing through someone’s trash.
Bookstores! Who goes any more? I found myself at the checkout and perused the magazines and books. Needless to say, our fearless leader has hogged the spotlight. That must be such an ego trip! WTF. Maybe. Maybe not?
I didn’t bother to look in Stormy’s book. I doubt she would have put in any gratuitous porn. Bah! It’s quite a line-up. Everybody’s making hay off our dear president. He’s good for the bottom line and profits for so many authors. How can we not love the bastard? It won’t stop when he’s gone either?
Is it me? I keep questioning the time – this time. Dreaming right? Nightmare? Indigestion? Does everyone else see and read something else? I’m bewildered. World opinion has been harsh and immediately polarized. “Ugly American?” Roughly 300 million Americans – 50 million voted for – and 50 million against. The rest… Look in the mirror. I don’t wake every morning to see an ugly American in my mirror. Check yourself. He’s been called the “White House apprentice.” Maybe it’s time? Late night talk shows and Saturday Night Live are loving this. They sell advertising based on the fact that audiences love this clown. Sorry, what else can you call the twitter antics? Obama got his Nobel. donnie got the cover of this mag. This year everyone will wear “orange.” You can’t make this stuff up.
I have way too much free time. I hang out at the checkout counter and read the headlines. Can it be so? Please tell me Angelina is not emaciated and near death. Better yet, I love the Cosmo cover. Do breasts talk? Really! Who’s the editor and what IQ does she sport? Are women and feminism in the conversation. Speak to the left breast.
You just can’t make this shit up.
I did nothing to make this arrangement. The Gods are laughing. And so am I.