"The question in your nerves is lit, as you realize there is no answer fit, to satisfy, and show you not to quit, that it is not he or she, or them nor it, that you belong to" Dylan....It's alright Ma, I'm only bleeding
Let me begin this brand new issue by stating what a marvelous time I had, enjoying the many splendors of the annual tradition of Spring, the birds outside my window, an almost Disney cartoon effect, zippity doo dah, the greening of the grass of which you know, I was all too fond of, cough cough, the lines at the Lowry Avenue Dairy Queen getting longer with the rise of the temperature, and my pride at having hit two triples in two games, for a man who has John Kruk like speed and grace to the breathtaking beauty and serene calm of Augusta, Georgia and the Masters on a Sunday afternoon. Not only was I able to witness the coming down from his lofty mountain of Tiger Woods, who, in his almost God-like reverence is seemingly capable of becoming human, if it were not for his shot on the 16th fringe to the green to bottom of the cup that paused long enough to think of Carl the greenskeeper in classic revered by men everywhere, Caddyshack, that along with Dimarco's hopes, threw the laws of physics out the window. While sitting on my favorite green couch and sipping on cold diet Dr. Peppers and cracking peanuts, facing the t.v. and watching the tournament, it came to me like a revelation, that despite all of the evils of the world and the wrongs which need to be right, it seems that if gentlemen play golf and bastards practice politics.
So, to follow up the heartbreak and heartache of Chris DiMarco's inability to knock Tiger off of his pedestal, with the exact same second shot on the 18th and again on the 18th in their playoff round, I thought it would only be fitting to watch a film that embraces heartache and contempt. I sat down to watch the film "Closer". Modern days dichotomy of love and need being confused for the same thing, and the resulting pain of which it causes when confronted honestly. Superbly acted and blunt. The film, days after its viewing has me, like so many who have come before, going over past relationships, and to those of you who have seen the film, can probably guess which character I am. It does reinforce the truth as well that we all deserve happiness, but that there are more ways than we can possibly imagine to achieve it. For, as Bob Dylan's grandmother would say to him, "Bobby, there is no road to happiness, happiness is the road".
Thirdly, the heartache keeps coming, like the bullets from a sub-machine gun, fired dead aim at the continually squeezed middle class doomed to be no more. The signing of the new Bankruptcy law is going to be put in effect as soon as our beloved president can figure out which end of the pen to use, and so begins the beginning of the fall from the cliff of the middle class to the wasteland of the lower class. Or maybe it is just survival of the fittest weeding out those who have made too many wrong decisions and now have to receive their punishment? But, I do know, that if you hold your eyes shut and press your ears to the wind, you can undoubtedly hear the cheering roar of credit-card companies, from as far as Bangladesh to Hackensack, New Jersey to the rolling tumbleweed deserts of Nevada. Bankers everywhere are doing the Phil Mickelson Toyota jump of excitement.
Lastly, as many of you know, I am quite technically challenged...with the motor skills of a three year old who has autism...so you wouldn't be suprised to know that this week while at my comfy 9-5 desk job giving high interest loans to people who can't afford them, my inability to shut off the speaker phone option of my telephone. Tapping away like a chimp in a small cage, I tried again and again, to figure out what would do the trick, and found myself, slowly getting angrier and angrier until I had to laugh at myself and look for the drool hanging from my chin. I did finally figure it out....I had to hang up the receiver. So, with that, and the night-life from Friday night confronted by the bloodshot eyes of Saturday morning's bathroom mirror, I bid you all adieu, until next time. Keep the fight alive....because the revolution will not be televised.
scenes from next weeks issue....the concern of a conclave.