I Believe... [Who I Am]
...that I’m the Christopher Columbus of dairy—I discover bricks of cheese, claim them as my own, subjugate the slices, and conquer them.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of September 29, 2019
I am limping proof that hopes, prayers, and positive thinking are no match for reality and action.
On Book Covers and Online Summaries: The Bumper Stickers That Define Us
The next time I'm in traffic, I start to notice my micro-complaining at various bad drivers and notice a trend. No labels, no specifics in the pejorative. In plain, if a Prius cuts me off, my mind says "Fucking NPR." Which is only ironic in that I drive a Prius and used to work for... If a car that takes too long to turn left in front of me has a BlackHawks sticker, it's "Goddamn Blackhawk fuckwad!" No label or obvious marker? It's just "Fucking asshole!" and we move on.
I'm pretty sure this isn't a specific phenomenon esoteric to me.
Dragging Dad, Kicking and Screaming into the Future [A Repost But Worth It...]
The mental picture (provided by my wife) is that the kids are taking dad to the future and want to get there now but can only move as fast as dad can move and he is slow and confused. Being a white man in his fifties, I guess I'm the dad in the metaphor and while I'm confused I'm also not about to cede the discussion to people still living like seven-year-old children and hoping their laundry gets done when mom comes down to the basement. A millennial who has never held a job or lived away from his or her parents doesn't get to lecture me on jack shit.
This is not a blanket condemnation of millennials, merely an old white guy's assertion that 98 percent of everyone under 25 hasn't lived enough actual life to know what the fuck he or she is bloviating about.
So, instead of lectures, let's ask some questions, cuz dad needs some clarification, or he's turning this station wagon around and heading home.