When You Wish Upon a Star

Hey. How’s it going out there for y’all?

I hope all y’all are doing well, and that this year has been going better for you than the last couple of years have. I don’t know about you, but things appear to be returning to some sense of normalcy for me. And the pandemic has disrupted my life less than pretty much anyone else I know.

I am blissfully unaware of almost everything going on the world, but even in the severely limited news items I follow, the Coronavirus doesn’t appear to be front page news anymore. I don’t know if any of the people I know that still work in Healthcare would agree with that assessment, but I rarely talk to any of them. Now that I think about it, there are maybe seven or eight people that I converse with on a regular basis, and four of them live here at the Chula Vista Resort and Spa most of the time.

I have become a person that mostly exists in other people’s memories.

* * * *

When You Wish Upon a Star is a song written by Leigh Harline and Ned Washington for Walt Disney’s 1940 animated adaptation of Pinocchio. The original version was sung by Cliff Edwards in the character of Jiminy Cricket.

The Library Of Congress deemed Edwards’s recording of the song “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant” and inducted it into the National Recording Registry in 2009. The American Film Institute ranked the song seventh in their 100 Greatest Songs in Film History.

When You Wish Upon a Star has become an icon of The Walt Disney Company. In the 1950’s and 1960’s, Disney used the song in the opening sequences of all the editions of its television series. All of the ships of the Disney Cruise Line use the first seven notes of the song’s melody as their horn signals.

Personally, I think it’s one of the most beautiful songs ever written, and listening to it will bring tears to my eyes. The song is pure magic.

* * * *

I can’t remember when I started writing this installment of my blog, or how many times I’ve deleted everything and started anew. It’s been a couple of months, at least. For a guy that doesn’t have much of an idea of what he’s going to write about, I appear to be pretty goddamn picky about what I actually post. I figure if I’m bored by my writing, no one else is going to get excited about it either…

I would like to give some props to Jane Castleman. She’s one of the many people I know that I rarely talk to, and she lives only a couple of miles from us. My lovely supermodel wife and I had dinner with Jane and her husband Al back in January.

That’s one of the reasons I think life might be getting back to normal. This year has seemingly flown by compared to the last two years, and they seemed to go on for, like, ten years or something.

Anyway, at the end of dinner I gave Jane a hug and she whispered this in my ear, “Keep writing.”

Jane is one of the few persons that I’m not related to in any fashion that regularly reads my blog. My wife reads everything I write, but only because I’m married to her. Jane almost always leaves a comment for me, and I have loved every one of them. For that reason, and a good many others, I love Jane.

I didn’t know then that it would take me this long for my scattered thoughts to congeal enough into something I felt writing about. But Jane is the main reason I’m even attempting to write now.

Thank you, Jane! You are a sweetheart.

* * * *

If you’ve ever read my blog before, you know that I lead an incredibly boring and bucolic life. If this is your first visit here, prepare to be underwhelmed.

If you’re thinking I’m bored because I don’t have anything to do, you would be wrong. We have something like unto a dozen gardens here at the resort, and I am the primary caregiver for most of them. During the Dry Season, which we are in the very peak of dryness right now, the gardens need to be watered on an almost daily basis.

It takes hours to water them all.

Granted, watering a garden isn’t something that most people would describe as their favorite thing to do. I’m not sure even I could say that, and I mostly enjoy watering my plants. It gives me a lots of time to ponder stuff deeply, and I’d probably have to say that is my favorite thing to do.

Deep thinking isn’t something most guys appear to be capable of doing, mostly because guys are the least complex organisms on Earth. And most guys that think they’re complex are not. They’re just confused — probably because almost everything going on around them is complex and they have no idea how process most of it.

A truly complex guy is almost as rare as a unicorn.

We don’t really look like this, eh

* * * *

Yo, dude. Have you ever considered the possibility that you’re not complex. Maybe you’re just confused, too.

I will freely admit that I am confused about a great many things. But I am not the only person I know that thinks I’m complex. My wife says I’m considerably more complex than she is, and she’s the most complex person I know. I’m confident both of her daughters would corroborate that statement. They’ve both lived with us, and I doubt either one of them knew what the fuck to think about me at that time.

If you need additional information about my alleged complexity, I can provide you with a list of references upon request.

* * * *

When I’m not hanging out in the gardens, I still play golf badly several times a week. I usually play with our roommate, Todd. I used to golf with Todd and Phyllis, but Phyllis has more or less given up golf. The way I’ve been playing lately has reached a new low, and I didn’t think I could get any worse. I’ve thought about giving up on golf, too. But I don’t want to spend that much time in the gardens.

I’ve often heard people say that golf is mental game. That would certainly go a long way to explaining why I suck at golf. My mind rarely focuses specifically on golf.

I enjoy playing golf, even if I can’t do it well most of the time. It’s incredibly satisfying to smack the living shit out of a golf ball and watch it soar through the air like a missile, then land in the middle of the fairway. Or slip your golf ball cleverly through a group of trees. Or sink a really long putt. There’s nothing else like it. Those are the shots that keep you coming back when you suck at golf as much as I do.

Golf is also an easy way for me to meet to people that I can add to the long list of people I know that I will rarely speak to. I enjoy getting to know people on a superficial basis. It’s a helluvalot easier to like someone when you don’t know much of anything about them. Well, it is for me.

* * * *

So. What are these incredibly deep and complex thoughts that so completely occupy your mind?

Mostly, I think about God. And the Truth — whatever that is. You know, stuff like that.

* * * *

I’ve written a lots of stuff about God in my blog. You could look them up in the archives if you don’t have anything else to do. I’ve probably written a lots of stuff about Truth, too. I don’t think I’ve ever been very specific about it because Truth is something that doesn’t appear to have any consistency to it if you’re not talking about science or mathematics.

Those truths are seemingly absolute. All the time. Well, except in the quantum universe, where pretty much anything appears to be possible. Every other truth appears to be nothing more than a matter of opinion. Don’t agree with me? If you believe something to be true, isn’t that the truth to you?

Okay. I see where you’re going with this, but what if I change my mind about what I believe?

Then whatever you have decided to now be true still remains the truth to you, does it not?

* * * *

Probably the one thing that mystified me most about God was the fact that if there was one person, or entity, or whatever you want to describe God as being — He has to know what the real truth is. There had to be a Ground Zero for the Truth at some point in time, even if no one knows what the hell it is anymore. What happened to the Truth, and how could our All-Knowing, All-powerful God allow something as vital as the Truth fall off the fucking radar?

How could there be so many differing opinions on just who and what God is, and what He really wants from us. Where did all of these religions come from, and why, oh why would He allow something that might lead millions of His children to wander down these dusty roads to perdition? Are we not the masterpiece of all His creation?

How do we know if we’re being saved, or if we’ve been pranked?? Is one religion really more better gooder than any other religion? Is there One, True religion? If so, which one is it? How does one determine a religious truth when such truths can essentially be anything you want them to be? What the fuck!

Why???

* * * *

In nursing school we had to take a class entitled Anatomy & Physiology. We learned everything that was known at that time about the human body, and how every part of it functioned because as nurses we would be caring for people whose bodies, or parts of their bodies, no longer properly did its job, or jobs.

I’m pretty sure I learned a lots of really important stuff that I’ve probably forgotten about now that I’m no longer a working nurse. But there are two things that jumped out at me when I was a student, and I will never forget them. The first was: form always follows function. And the second was the All or None Law.

* * * *

Form always follows function. Every part of your body has a shape that directly corresponds to what it does. I took that one step beyond: We are created in the image of God, according to the Bible. If that is our form, then what, exactly, is our function supposed to be? Yeah, I pondered over that sucker for decades, and some of the answers I’ve received to that question still make me chuckle.

By the way, you should never ask a manic person that question…

* * * *

The All or None Law is a principle that states the strength of a response of a nerve cell or muscle fiber is not dependent upon the strength of the stimulus. If a stimulus is above a certain threshold, a nerve or muscle fiber will always react to that stimulus. Essentially, there will either be a full response or there will be no response at all for an individual neuron or muscle fiber.

* * * *

I’ve tried applying the All or None Law to a lots of things outside the realm of human physiology, like, you know, religion. Based on that principle, either all of the religions on this planet are true. Or none of them are. I found both of those speculations to be morally and ethically abhorrent.

It’s probably not a good idea for anyone to try this line of thinking without professional supervision. Even then, the results aren’t likely to get any better than mine. And I like to think I’m extremely good at abstract thinking…

* * * *

I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I was asking questions that could never be answered by me, myself, and I. Nor did it seem that any of the religious “authorities” I questioned knew the answers to those questions either. I label them as authorities because that’s what they thought they were.

They went to school and studied the Bible, and holy scriptures, and stuff. So what could I possibly know about God that they did not? It’s like unto seeing your doctor and telling him you’ve looked up all of your symptoms on WebMD, and this is the treatment he should give you.

* * * *

You might wonder why I spend such an inordinate amount of time contemplating questions that don’t appear to have an answer, like I was some kind of Zen mystic or something. My lovely supermodel wife certainly does. I’m sure I’ve asked myself that same question more than once. And for me, the answer is simple: Spirituality.

Spirituality is a vital aspect of health and well-being, even if you don’t believe in God. That might not appear to make any sense, but even atheists believe in Something. Nature. The Universe. Call it what you will. Almost everyone on this planet believes in a God, or a lots of gods, or something that is externally greater than themselves. As far as I’m concerned, that constitutes spirituality.

In nursing school, we were taught about this spiritual component in terms of the Health-Illness Continuum. You can Google that up if you want more information on it.

I don’t think most people consider Nursing to be a spiritual profession, but every nurse I’ve ever known has prayed to God to save someone in their care. Or to save them from killing someone that the world would be much better without. Nurses know they are going to need all the help they can get from God because so many things can go wrong in healthcare, and very few of them are under our direct control.

* * * *

Many people equate spirituality with religion. Spiritual people go to church, don’t they? I mean, like, every Sunday — not just Christmas and Easter. I consider myself to be a spiritual person. and I rarely go to church anymore. Mostly because I think organized religion is the most successful scam operation ever invented by man. I could seriously elaborate on this topic for hours, but that’s the last thing I want to do because that would entail one helluvalot of typing, and I type about as well as I golf.

* * * *

I am not a great writer. I’m a great re-writer. I edit everything I write about 10,000 times. Sometimes even I don’t know what I was originally trying to say.

* * * *

Religion isn’t just the opium of the masses, as Karl Marx pointed out a couple of hundred years ago. It’s much, much worse that that. Organized religion has created far more problems than it has ever solved, and it has harmed just as many people as it has ever helped. Blatant hypocrisy and sex scandals aside, there’s this undisputable fact: Organized religion is Big Business.

The Roman Catholic Church is a corporation that has a net worth greater than General Motors, and possibly every other automobile manufacturer worldwide, combined. The Church isn’t just rich, it’s filthy fucking rich. Not bad for a bunch of dudes that took an oath of poverty…

And don’t get me started on television evangelists. I seriously hate every one of those motherfuckers.

* * * *

If you’re wondering where I’m going with this, take heart. I’m almost done.

I went to church on last year on Christmas Eve. My wife and son-in-law wanted to go to church, and even if I don’t think organized religion serves much of a higher purpose to me, it meant a lot to them. So to church we went. Gwen, John, Lea and myself.

It was a candle-light service, which was very soothing, even to me. The pastor of this church gave a little sermon about the birth of Jesus — the kind of stuff you’d expect to hear at a Christmas Eve service. I would have probably fallen asleep if it weren’t for the lit candle I was holding in my hand. And then the pastor said this, “Redemption always requires blood.”

It was a seemingly random sentence that popped up out of nowhere. I’m not sure he was even aware he said it because he didn’t elaborate on it. I’m not sure anyone else inside the church even heard what he had said.

But I could not forget it.

I thought about what he said for hours. When we went to bed that night, I was still thinking about it. And because I couldn’t stop thinking about that one random line, I decided to do something I had never done before.

I opened my heart, I opened my mind, I opened every cell in my body — I opened my very soul to God, to the Universe, and Everything.

* * * *

I’ve prayed to God a million times or more in my lifetime. I’ve prayed for a lots of things. Mostly things, I think. I’ve prayed for other things, too. Strength in times of trouble. Wisdom. Patience. That’s something you should never pray for because I can guarantee you will not like the way God will answer that prayer.

* * * *

I didn’t pray that night. I simply opened my soul to God and asked Him one question.

What is the truth?

I know I’ve asked Him that question countless times, expecting to receive some sort of response, only to hear the disappointing sounds of silence echo inside my head.

But on that night, Christmas Eve, 2021, exactly at midnight — God, the Universe, and Everything — answered me.

Takin’ Care of Business

Hey there, little buckaroos. Yes, it has been awhile! I’d apologize, but I doubt anyone has gone through withdrawal symptoms because I haven’t written anything for a few months.

* * * *

If you aren’t familiar with the song Takin’ Care of Business by the Canadian rock band Bachman-Turner Overdrive, I don’t know what to say to you. It was released in 1973, and it’s their best-known song of all time. The song has been used in a few hundred thousand movies and commercials. If you can honestly say you don’t know the song, you need to get a life.

* * * *

I’ve been retired for five years now. If you’re not retired, you should try it sometime. If you are retired, you may have noticed the same thing that I have: Retirement is literally days, weeks, and even months of not having to do anything if you don’t feel like doing it. You don’t have to go work anymore. You don’t have any pending appointments or meetings you have to attend on your calendar.

There might be some things you’ve been thinking about getting around to doing, but they’re not anything pressing, so if you decide today isn’t the day to tackle them, no one is going to care.

And then it’s almost as if all of the things you didn’t have to do conspire and BOOM! all of a sudden there’s a whole lots of shit that needs to be done.

Right. Now.

And that’s one of the reasons I haven’t been writing about my mostly incredibly boring and bucolic life. I’ve actually been busy.

* * * *

Way back in September, I conceived an idea to write about. A lots of goddamn stuff has happened since then, and I’m no longer interested in writing about it. I may get around to explaining that — we’ll see… Instead of writing, my lovely supermodel wife and I flew back to the States to attend my Aunt Noreen’s 90th birthday party at Lion’s Park in beautiful downtown Swanville, MN.

Aunt Reen is the last surviving matriarch on my mother’s side of the family. All of the elder relatives on my dad’s side of the family got dead years ago. Reen is my mom’s youngest sister, and to the best of my knowledge, she’s the oldest living person in my family’s history. We don’t tend to live much beyond the age of 80. And far too many of us tend to die much younger.

Noreen is a really neat gal, very much like unto my mom. They were best friends, and when Reen came over to my parents’ house to say good-bye to my mom just before she died, that was the sweetest thing I have ever seen in my life. It still makes me cry whenever I think about it.

It’s the only reason why I thought it was important to go to her party. I doubt any of my cousins will ever come visit us in Mexico, so I don’t see a preponderance evidence that suggests I need to spend a lots of money and energy connecting with people that aren’t going to make any effort to connect with me.

And speaking of people I don’t want to ever connect with again, there’s John, my Idiot Brother. As you have probably deduced, John and I are not good friends. Mainly because every time John contacts me, he threatens to kill me. I don’t believe 99% of the bullshit that emanates from him. I’m not sure if he’d actually kill me if he ever saw me again, but I have no doubt that he’d try to.

I knew there was no way John would miss going to Reen’s party, if for no other reason than there would be a whole lots of free beer there. So, yeah, this created a bit of a dilemma for me. As it turns out, I’m not the only person in my family that doesn’t want to be around my Idiot Brother. None of my cousins wanted him at their party either, however, they didn’t think he would even bother to attend.

Cut to the chase: John arrived at the party about half an hour before Lea and I arrived. My cousins messaged me to let me know he was there — even though they still didn’t think he would come — then they asked him to leave. John said, “You don’t think I’d really kill my brother with all these witnesses present, do you?” And they replied, “Because you say things like that, you have to leave. And if you don’t leave now, we’ll call the police.”

It was a very nice party. I got to see my old friend, Shorty Girtz. I’ve written about him and our epic vacation in Dallas, TX. You can look it up in the archives if you’re really bored. He took Lea for a ride on his new touring motorcycle, which I have to admit surprised me. Lea has never been all that interested in motorcycles, but she had blast.

According to the 2010 census, there are 350 people that live in the city of Swanville. At least half of the town was in attendance at Noreen’s party, mainly because she is probably related to almost everyone in Swanville in one way or another. Reen was very happy that we had flown up all the way from Mexico for her party. I gained a new level of respect for my cousins. And my Idiot Brother messaged me to tell me he was really going to kill me the next time he saw me, this time for sure. Again.

* * * *

We were in Minnesota for five days. On short visits like unto this one, you scramble like hell to see as many people as you can before you leave. The list of people that I’m willing to try to see keeps getting smaller, mostly for the reason previously stated above. The other reason is the impermanence of life itself. And that’s the other reason we went back to Minnesota.

I wanted to see Paul Anderson before he died to death.

* * * *

Paul and I were registered nurses, and we worked together at the Minneapolis VAMC in the In-patient Psychiatric Department for the entire twenty years I was employed there. Paul was mostly an excellent nurse. I had the utmost respect for him as a colleague, and I learned a helluvalot from him about how to do my job with the most efficiency. We supported each other through every fucking miserable event that befell us during that time, and we both had more than our share of traumas and tribulations over those two decades.

We celebrated every victory together. We celebrated even when there wasn’t much of anything to celebrate. I taught him everything I knew about smoking marijuana, and he taught me everything he knew about craft beers and red wine. Yeah, he was my drinking buddy. Unlike all of my other drinking buddies — who didn’t want to have anything to do with me after I quit drinking — Paul and I remained close friends.

In vino veritas. We knew everything there was to know about each other. He was my best friend, possibly the best male friend I’ve had in my entire life, despite the fact that he rooted for the much-despised Green Bay Peckers.

* * * *

If you’re wondering why I’m not writing another installment entitled For Whom the Bell Tolls, I just don’t have the courage to do it, even though Paul is more than worthy of a tribute from me. I’ve lost two of my best male friends in less than four months. Those losses have taken a lots of wind out of my sails, simply because losses like unto these are roughly the emotional equivalent of getting kicked in the balls.

The pain from the grief is acute enough as it is. Opening myself up to further pain by writing about it is more than I am willing to take on right now. And it’s one of the reasons I haven’t written. I rarely know what I’m going to write, and yeah, the idea that something like unto that would pour out of me honestly scared the shit out of me. I had to wait until I was sure that wasn’t going to happen.

Writing about Francisco’s death helped me process the shock and dismay that plagued me in his absence. I needed to write about him. I don’t have to do that with Paul. I’ve known he wasn’t going to live very long for the better part of this year. He told me he was dying in May. I told him to stay alive until I saw him in September.

He promised me that he would.

Lea and I drove out to see Paul, one last time, at the house he built, mostly all by himself, on September 20th. It was a bright and sunny day as we headed east on Highway 94. We visited with Paul and his wife for about an hour. That was the extent of the strength he had left. Lea and I have a boatload of fond memories of Paul and Synneva’s house. We got together frequently, usually at their home in rural Wisconsin, and shared many an ice cold beverage and a lots of laughter over the years.

It wasn’t bright and sunny anymore as we drove west, back to Minnesota and the Airbnb in St. Paul we had rented for our stay. Dark gray clouds had rolled in, and the skies opened up, unleashing torrents of rain that fell like rage. It was as if the sky had offered me an unction by crying the tears I no longer possessed.

If you were to ask me where I am in my grieving process right now, I don’t know if I could tell you. I’m not even sure who I’m grieving over half of the time. I don’t know if I can grieve individually anymore. It’s all become a kind of Grief Casserole to me, and I don’t really know how to cook.

The one thing I have going for me is I discovered I have a really great support system. My friends and family here have been there for me every time I’ve needed them. And they will be there if I need more from them.

Excuse me, I’m going to have to take a break here…

* * * *

I talked to Paul almost every day after we got back to Mexico. Our conversations rarely lasted even five minutes. I just wanted to hear his voice again, knowing there wouldn’t be many times we would talk.

I sent him all the pictures I had taken of our adventures, and his family, because I had fucking forgotten to pack them when we flew up there. I had pulled them out of storage, meaning to give them to him when I saw him, and set them on the bookcase in the Peach Room. And that’s where they were when we got back to Mexico.

He appreciated the pictures. We had had a lots of great times together, and he smiled a lots remembering them. His wife told me that.

I was going to call him on his birthday, Monday, October 11th. But when I opened my Facebook account, I had received a message from Synneva. Paul had passed away in his sleep during the night. He would have been 65 if he had lived three more hours. On the bright side, he got to see his beloved Packers win one last football game that they should have lost at least twice. So there was that.

* * * *

Time ceased to exist for me for awhile that morning. I went to the end of the patio because it was it was in the sunlight, and the mornings are getting a little chilly here. The birds were chirping in the trees. A light breeze was blowing, just enough of a breeze to tickle the hairs on your arms, but not enough to really do much more than that.

A few hummingbirds flitted from flower to flower in the garden. A vermillion flycatcher flew into one of the plumeria trees, looking for a meal. The warmth of the sun felt good. And I smiled, remembering the good times, wishing there had been at least one more visit…

Paul would have liked Mexico if he had ever gotten down here. He was planning to visit us in May of 2020. He had even bought his airfare. Then the pandemic hit and brought the world to a screeching halt. Paul cancelled his trip, with the idea to reschedule for a later date. Then he got too sick to travel, and that ended up being that.

True to his word as always, he stayed alive long enough so we could say good-bye to each other in person. Thank you for doing that.

Twenty days later, he, too, was gone.

Vaya con Dios, Mr. Anderson. The last thing you said to me was we will meet again. That is a promise you had better keep. I’m counting on you to show me the ropes again.

* * * *

In early October, our oldest daughter, Gwen, her husband, John, and their dog, Tori Belle, took up residence in the casita we had set up as a guest suite. They’re going to stay here for the next five months until they decide what they want to do when they grow up. They both work remotely from here. I guess that’s one positive outcome from the COVID-19 pandemic.

This has been somewhat of a surprise to us, that one of our kids would want to move back in with us, but it has been a good surprise. We have a kind of communal living experience going on here at the resort — minus the drugs and free love that were so popular back in the 1960’s.

It’s also somewhat ironic. Prior to moving into this house, I observed that there are a lots of gringo mansions down here. Huge honker homes that were probably occupied by one or two old, white people and maybe a couple of dogs. And then we moved into one one of those huge honker places… That’s why we invited Todd to move in with us. We had more than enough room for another person here.

When Gwen and John asked if they could take over our casita for an extended stay, we were well-versed in the process. Things are going smoothly for all of us as far as I know. If there’s anyone that is not satisfied with our current living arrangements, they haven’t talked to me about it.

* * * *

Because we no longer had a guest room for all of the people that said they were going to visit us, but probably never will — and because I needed something to do — I repainted the Peach Room and turned it into our new guest room.

I guess you could call the Peach Room a bonus room/flex space. We had it set up as a second living room/den, but we never used it. The kit-tens used to hang out in it occasionally. They probably used it more than any of the people that live here.

Yes. It’s a very big room. And that’s a queen-size bed. There’s an adjoining Jack and Jill bathroom between the guest room and Todd’s room. In this picture, the bathroom would be to your right. If you come to visit, you’ll have to share that.

* * * *

The next thing that needed to be done was repairing the ceiling in the master bedroom. I can’t remember exactly when it happened, but a few months ago our landlord finally replaced the malfunctioning solar heater for the swimming pool. Said heater rests on the roof of our bedroom.

The summer months here are the Rainy Season. We received over 40 inches of rain this year, so yeah, they call it the Rainy Season for a very good reason. That’s how we discovered the leak in the roof. We assume it originated with the new solar heater because it wasn’t there with the old solar heater. Our property manager sent a crew here to repair the roof three times. The Rainy Season has ended, so we probably won’t know if the leak has actually been sealed until sometime next June…

Just in cases you didn’t know, all of the buildings in Mexico are primarily constructed of bricks, mortar, and steel. Someone told me it was because of the termites, which are pretty much everywhere down here. Maybe that’s true. I don’t really know. Concrete might have a lots of advantages as a building material, but one disadvantage it has is it is very porous and sucks up water like unto a sponge.

And that’s pretty much what happened on our roof. Water followed the path of least resistance and after one particularly heavy thunderstorm, part of the ceiling in our bedroom kind of collapsed — not much, just a little — but it continued to do so with each consecutive rainfall. After a couple months of this process repeatedly repeating itself, the ceiling in our bedroom was in a very sorry state of affairs.

Repairing the ceiling amounted to scraping away all the loose mortar and paint, then plastering all the cracks and crevices and canyons that the leaking roof had created, and then sanding all the rough spots down until they were more or less smooth. Plastering isn’t something I would call one of my strengths, but the end result looked comparable to the other repairs that had been done to the bedroom ceiling prior to when we moved in.

Lea said she was happy with it, and that was really all I needed to hear.

The worst part of this process is the mold remediation. If you have never attempted to get get mold out of a concrete ceiling, you haven’t missed much. It is a long and tedious process. Oddly enough, the mold is no where near the spot where the ceiling first started falling apart. I might be done with that part of the job by Christmas…

When we moved into this house, we hired Francisco to paint almost every room in the house. Just about the only surfaces he didn’t paint were the ceilings — except in the master bedroom. It must have looked like hell, so that’s probably why Lea asked him to paint it. It’s the only reason why I had paint that matched perfectly, and I won’t have to repaint the entire ceiling.

The final bedroom renovations entailed moving the TV set that had been in the Peach Room that no one ever watched into the master bedroom and connecting it to the DVD player I had purchased at Best Buy® while we were in Minnesota.

* * * *

Probably Little Known Fact About DVD’s and DVD Players: they are coded for the country they are manufactured in. Yeah, I didn’t know that either, until I bought a DVD player that was made in Mexico. It would not play any of the DVD’s I had purchased in the United States of America.

* * * *

It took me awhile to switch from VHS tapes to DVD’s, but once I did I thought it would be stupid to have just one DVD. Hey, do you want to come over to my house and watch my DVD? See? I told you… So I bought a lots of them over the years.

* * * *

It took me the better part of an hour to figure out how to change the codes in my Mexican DVD player so we could watch a movie, and I’m pretty sure we didn’t bother to even watch it after we finally got everything working. I don’t use that player to watch movies. I have it hooked up to the stereo on the patio because DVD players also play CD’s, and I have a lots and lots of CD’s.

* * * *

The last thing that kept me from writing was working in the gardens here at the Chula Vista Resort and Spa. They were starting to look tired, so I tore almost everything out of most of them. Then Lea decided she wanted to trim the Royal and Ancient Hedgerow in the South Garden.

I guess I should have asked her what she meant by the word trim. Lea more or less ripped out everything that had regrown, leaving the fence looking almost exactly like it did one year ago when we originally attacked the hedgerow.

I was originally a little bummed out because the hedgerow looks like hell now, but as we have seen, it will return again. And her extreme trimming may even benefit the vines that I actually want to grow. Time will tell on that account. All I know is they didn’t fill in the places I wanted them to this year…

* * * *

It’s been a tough year for me. It just goes to show you that you should never think things can’t get any worse than they were last year…

I had originally planned this post to be about the Anti-Vaccine Movement, and how incredibly selfish those people are in the midst of a global pandemic that has changed, and will continue to change our lives for the foreseeable future.

I think they’re moronheads. And that’s about all I have to say about that anymore. Except I hope the Green Bay Peckers don’t secure a bye in the playoffs because of Aaron Rodgers being an anti-vaxing sissifated sniffle-snaffle. It’d serve him right.

It’s also been a very good year for me. I am very aware of that. I don’t need anyone to point that out to me. Life is all about balance and equilibrium. My life is balancing out gradually. I no longer experience the wild mood swings that owned me in July.

I remain resilient. The losses I have felt this year have bent me and stretched me to my limits at times, but they did not break me. At least, I don’t think they did.

I have lost dear friends, but I have also found support from a group of people that I didn’t expect it from. That was another good surprise.

Thank you, everyone. Everyone that has supported me. Everyone that has helped me support Francisco’s family. Thank you all from the bottom of my broken heart.

It isn’t as broken as it used to be. And that is very much because of all of you.

Future Shock

Hey there little buckaroos. How’s everything going out there? I am admittedly out of touch with most of the things going on in the world right now. My life has become a fairly insulated cocoon of intentional oblivion. I’m not terribly interested in much of anything that happens beyond our gate anymore. Perhaps you can relate to this. I don’t think I’m the only person that feels this way.

No news is good news. Ignorance is bliss.

There might a lots of truth in those statements. There might not be any. They aren’t mottos or credos that I try to uphold in my life. The only reason I mentioned them is they’re the kinds of things I’ve heard other people say when they’re not terribly interested in what’s going on around them either. And it’s not as if I’ve gone completely off the grid of current events. I don’t watch the news very often anymore, but I receive daily updates on what’s going in the world via social media and the Interweb every time I log onto one of my mobile devices.

* * * *

According one recent report I read, the Minnesota Vikings are suddenly considered to be serious Super Bowl contenders by at least one sportswriter. That made me laugh, so that guy might not be a sportswriter anymore. Football season hasn’t even started yet! That’s probably why the Vikings are contenders to be world champions at this precise moment in time.

Every team has the same chances of winning the Super Bowl right now because they’re all undefeated, and no one knows how good or bad they are. There haven’t been devastating injuries to key players, and there’s almost one or two of those that happen to just about every team as the season progresses. Unless the Vikings field a vastly different team than they did last year, that prognostication won’t stand up very long. They did spend a whole lots money this year upgrading their defense, and everyone who follows American football knows that defense wins championships. Right?

That’s a hope I’m trying to keep alive, though it has dropped precipitously on my priority list over the last few years.

Speaking purely for myself, I’ve been disappointed by the Vikings so many times in my life that I don’t care if they ever make it back to the Super Bowl again. If they do, my doctor is going to have to put me on a whole lots of Valium for the two weeks between the NFC Championship game and the Super Bowl. He’ll probably have to admit me into the hospital and have me sedated during the game because I won’t be able to watch it without having a heart attack or a stroke. And if they lose for a fifth time, he might just as well put me down. I’m not sure I could live through one more post-season heartbreak from them.

Maybe that’s a hope I shouldn’t try to keep alive anymore…

* * * *

A couple of weeks ago I read an article that former president Donald Trump shut down his radically new and revolutionary social media platform (From the Desk of Donald J. Trump), after just 29 days. It turns out that his SMP wasn’t much of a platform. Not even for him. It was, wait for it — a blog. That made me laugh, too. I LOLed. And LMFAOed. And I ROTFLed. Then I re-LOLed some more.

There’s a reason for my reactions. Mr. Trump originally said he was going to create a new social media platform that would redefine the genre and make Facebook and Twitter about as meaningful as Myspace. Both of those sites suspended his accounts indefinitely after he incited a riot that resulted in the deaths of five people.

Given the fact that The Donald is a failed influencer that needs to be in the spotlight, he had no choice but to create his own social media platform, just so he could put himself back into the spotlight, especially after those fascist assholes at Facebook and Twitter wouldn’t even let him appear on their stages anymore.

* * * *

I will never stop hoping that Trump will someday be indicted for a lengthy list of crimes, and imprisoned for a very lengthy period of time — and five counts of murder/manslaughter/homicide need to be on that list. I know this will never happen, but that doesn’t mean I can’t continue to hope that it will. And it doesn’t begin to describe how disappointed I am in the American justice system for letting him get away with… everything… so far.

There. Are. No. Words.

* * * *

You’d think that this self-proclaimed genius would’ve known better, wouldn’t you? A blog? I mean, OMG! WTF?!? That’s a terrible medium for The Donald — for a multitude of reasons. He was at his best — if you can call it that — when he buffooned and clowned his way around the stage for his Trump-pets, speaking off the cuff in front of a microphone with a whole lots of cameras rolling.

It would appear that Donald Trump put as much effort into revamping social media as he did in creating a healthcare system that would improve upon on the Affordable Care Act. Or preventing the pandemic. Or fixing the American budget deficit. Or making America more better greater again… I can do this all day, people. I have a really long list of President Trump’s failures.

A blog, for the most part, is a written venue of communication. There isn’t any means for immediate interaction between the writer and the audience, and there is no opportunity to ad lib anything. Additionally, The Donald cannot spel. Nor can he write a complete, comprehensive sentence. And most of his supporters can’t reed rede read.

_{The Sharpie is mightier than the Quid Pro Quo}

According to the article, that was the reason an infuriated Donald Trump shut down his cutting-edge social media platform. I mean, his blog. No one was reading it. I might have actually had more people reading my mostly meaningless blog than Trump had reading his totally pointless blog. That makes me smile a smile of vast contentment. Unfortunately, The Donald wasn’t infuriated enough to have a heart attack or a stroke.

Oh well, maybe next time… Like, when he finally figures out the election he lost will never, ever, be overturned.

* * * *

I have a lots of hypothetical situations that run through my head, so I’m going to throw this one out there as an example: I doubt that any of the thirteen people who regularly read my blog are Trump supporters, but on the off-hand chance that you are, and you’re female, and you’ve been wondering if you could be in a relationship with me because I seem like an urbane, erudite, cool guy — um, no. We couldn’t.

For one thing, I’m already in a relationship. I’m very happily married to my lovely supermodel wife. But even if that wasn’t the case, no, we still couldn’t be in a relationship. To sort of paraphrase Meatloaf, I can overlook a lots of things. But I can’t/won’t do that.

* * * *

Maybe it’s because I’m no longer as young as I used to be, but keeping up with the pace of life has become exhausting. I didn’t have insomnia prior to the first Coronavirus lockdown. Oddly, I do now. I’ve had it for about the last year. And I consider my life to be more free from stress than it has ever been.

At some point in time in this post I plan on exploring that issue. We’ll see how long it takes me to get there.

The fact that I often have trouble sleeping now — like tonight — doesn’t bother me as much as it bothers my doctor. He seems to view my insomnia as a personal affront to him. I’ve been taking Melatonin regularly at night for the last couple of weeks to make him happy. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

I’m retired. If I don’t sleep, it’s not like it’s going effect my performance at work the next day. And if I decide to take a nap in the afternoon it’s not going to get me fired. I don’t see this as a big problem.

There’s at least one more thing I should take into consideration about my current level of physical/emotional enervation and semi-frequent episodes of insomnia: As my wife has pointed out to me several times, I’m not 64 anymore. It’s pretty much all downhill for me from here on out…

To quote my brother-in-law, N. William Pfaff, “They can only kill you once. Everything else is just foreplay.”

Like unto many things in my life, I’m going to stand pat with the Wait and See approach; continue to monitor and assess myself from a distance because I don’t want me to know that I’m under surveillance.

* * * *

Don’t you worry. When things get back to normal again, your life will get back to normal again, too.

Perhaps. But there’s this: The world has changed, and whatever it returns to will not be the same world that existed prior to COVID-19. And there’s also this: No one I know has ever used the word normal to describe me. You probably don’t want to be the first person to go there.

* * * *

¡Feliz Día del Padre! And it’s the first day of summer too. The sun is shining. The US Open Golf Championship is playing on the TV. I usually golf on Sunday, but I took today off for a few reasons:

I haven’t been playing much golf since Todd decided he needed a vacation from us and drove up to Minnesota in early April to see his son, his daughter, and his grandson. We’re assuming that he’ll return in about a month or so. But there was never a strict timeline on his plans, so everything is subject to change. It’s one of the perks of being retired. You get to play a whole lots of things by ear.

I was under the illusion that I’ve been in a bit of slump for the last year or so. I wasn’t pleased with my scores because they, you know, sucked. But the word slump implies that at one time I wasn’t playing poorly, and I’m not sure I can state that with a clear conscience anymore — if I ever could.

I seem to remember that just before the first quarantine I was consistently scoring in the low 80’s, and I was convinced that I was going break 80 in the very near future. But I’m also the guy that forgets why he went into the kitchen in 20 steps or less, so I’m not sure my memory of being an almost not-so-terrible golfer is accurate.

Theoretically, a slump should be time-limited. Shouldn’t it?? After a year of slumping through the fairways, the roughs and the trees, the sand traps, and the greens — I’m starting to think this isn’t so much of a slump as it is a strong indicator that I’m simply not all that good at golf.

* * * *

While we’re on the subject of golf theories, I’m going to present Naisby’s Postulate of Bad Shots. And Stuff. Dave Naisby is one of the members of my country club, and he explained his theory to me the last time we played together. He’s Scottish, so you have read the next sentence with that wicked cool Scottish accent.

“Bad shots are neither created nor destroyed. They merely rotate in a random manner from one hole to the next.”

It’s the most succinct explanation of the vicissitudes of golf that I have ever heard in my life. Based on the way I’ve been playing, I’m pretty sure I’ve proven Dave’s theory multiple times, and it can now be classified as a Law.

* * * *

Another reason for decreasing my time spent on the golf course is pure psychology. I have previously described golf as a fickle mistress. One day she’s all happy to see you and treats you really nice. The next time she doesn’t have time for you and slams the door in your face. I figure if I start treating Miss Golf like I’m not interested in her anymore, she might start being nicer to me when we get together.

That ought to to do the trick, eh.

* * * *

The final reason I didn’t golf today was the weather. I know I said it was a beautiful day here, but yesterday Tropical Storm Dolores hit the western coast of Mexico, and we’ve gotten about four inches of rain in the last twenty-four hours. It was extremely soggy here this morning, and I thought it would get even soggier. But the prevailing winds must have blown the remnants of Dolores off to the north of the Lakeside Area, and it turned out to be a really gorgeous day.

The Chinese Mountains to the west of the resort will green up and look like heads of broccoli in a few days. The temperatures will moderate and cool off a bit. The dust and pollen have been erased from the sky and you can actually see the other side of Lake Chapala clearly for the first time in months.

_{See? I told you it was beautiful here}

I love the beginning of the Rainy Season. Everything feels fresh and clean. It’s like unto a second Spring. And I won’t have to spend several hours a day watering the dozen or so gardens we’ve resurrected after subduing the Royal and Ancient Hedgerow from Hell. With all of my free time I’ll be able to keep the lawn mowed and trimmed, and make sure that the current hedgerow remembers the limitations its boundaries.

And I might feel like writing more often. We’ll have to see how that goes, too.

The only negative thing about the beginning of the Rainy Season is the bugs. June bugs. Flying Buffalo Ants. The Other Flying Ants. Mosquitoes. Giant motheses. They all appear at this time of year. In hordes. Lea absolutely hates the bug invasion. I have to admit it is kind of creepy.

The only good thing about it is it’s brief. And it does provide a veritable smorgasbord for all of the birds that live around here.

* * * *

It’s been awhile since I wrote anything in my blog about my mostly boring life. I’ve actually been too busy to write. And I’m not making that up. We had a few visitors here at the resort in May. Lea’s sister, Leslie, and her husband, Bill, flew down from southern Minnesota, and spent a week with us taking in the sights and the some of the food here in the scenic Lakeside Area.

I was mildly surprised that Les and Bill made the trek down here. Neither of them is in great health, and they both have varying degrees of mobility issues. I hope they come back soon, and often. They said they would. They’re both sweet people and you’ve already had a sample of Bill’s sense of humor. He makes me laugh.

* * * *

Here’s another hypothetical situation for your consideration: Leslie is eight years older than Lea, and Bill is two years older than Leslie. That part isn’t hypothetical. That’s actually true. Bill leaves Philadelphia in a train traveling west at 65 miles an hour. Leslie leaves Chicago in her smart car traveling east at 45 miles an hour. How many tropical fruits can a Bananasarus Rex eat before Leslie will have to stop to the use the restroom for the first time?

* * * *

Lea and I both took short trips back up to the States in May. Lea said she needed to do some shopping, so she flew to Austin, TX and spent a week with her daughter, Gwen. I suggested that she get the J&J COVID vaccine while she was there because I didn’t have any faith in the Chinese vaccine we had received here. No one — not even the Mexican government — knew when the second injection would be available. And neither of us wanted to spend another ten and a half hours waiting to get it.

* * * *

I thought that little piece of paper stating you had been vaccinated would end up being far more important than it has turned out to be, didn’t you? I’m disappointed that no one has asked to see it. If I wanted to return to the States, that piece of paper is worthless. I’d have to go get another swab shoved up my sinuses to get another piece of paper that says I tested negative for COVID.

That doesn’t make any sense to me.

* * * *

When Lea returned to Mexico, I flew up to Austin to get vaccinated. And that’s the only thing I did while I was there. I flew up on a Sunday. Got the J&J vaccine on Monday. And flew back to Mexico on Tuesday. When I returned, Gwen flew down with me. She spent a couple of weeks hanging out at the resort, and we played several rounds of golf before she flew home.

Gwen is not a good golfer either, but she has demonstrated moments of being just about the luckiest golfer I’ve ever played with. Sooner or later the golf gods are going to notice that. They always do.

* * * *

Future Shock is a book by the American author, Alvin Toffler. It was published in 1970, and I remember reading it in high school. I can’t remember if it was a reading assignment for one of my classes, or if I read it because I liked to read back then. One thing I do remember is it was one of least enjoyable books I ever read. It didn’t have a happy ending.

In the dictionary, shock is defined as a sudden upsetting or surprising event or experience.

In the medical field, shock is an acute medical condition associated with a fall in blood pressure caused by blood loss, severe burns, bacterial infection, allergic reaction, or sudden emotional stress marked by cold, pallid skin, irregular breathing, rapid pulse, and dilated pupils.

In the book, future shock is a psychological state created by “…too much change in too short a period of time”.

In that regard, all of the events of the last year have unquestionably met that criterion. This profound physiological state — that’s how I’m going to describe this flashflood of multiple noxious stressors — can be experienced by individuals, a group of individuals, and even entire societies.

* * * *

In the dictionary, stress is defined as a feeling of emotional or physical tension. It can be caused by almost anything, depending on the person and their perceptions. Something that one person experiences without stress can produce a goddamn pants-wetting panic attack in someone else.

A Perhaps Little Known Fact About Stress: Stress is not necessarily a bad thing. For instance, stress can help you face difficult challenges and achieve your goals. The right amount of stress can help you accomplish daily tasks more efficiently. That’s right. Stress can actually make you elevate your game.

Stress can also serve as a sort of early warning system, producing the fight-or-flight response. When the brain perceives a possible crisis situation, it starts flooding the body with epinephrine, norepinephrine, and cortisol. These hormones focus your senses, enabling you to quickly react and avoid potentially dangerous situations. Stress can actually save your life.

It’s only when you’re overwhelmed with stress that it becomes detrimental.

* * * *

The term future shock seems to be incongruous to me. It’s not the future that shocks us. It’s the present set of particularly nasty circumstances that make us wonder whether or not we will even have a future. And that’s where the shocking part comes into play as far as I’m concerned.

According to Toffler, all of this shock and awe about the present/future has been caused by industrialization. Just in cases you were wondering, the first Industrial Revolution started roughly in the mid-1700’s. All we have done since then is streamline the process to the point that it now has a super-charged Hemi engine complete with a couple of twin turbos.

In Toffler’s opinion, we created a monster that has become an out-of-control juggernaut. The genie has been let out of the bottle and there’s no way to get it back in there again. All we can do now is hope we can keep pace with it or we will surely be crushed to death if we don’t.

When I look at the situation in this way, the pandemic appears to be more of a blessing than a curse. It forced us to slow the fuck down, son. It gave us the opportunity to catch our collective breath and reassess almost everything we had been doing.

We have been an industrialized society for almost three hundred years. There’s no way we are going undo that process. Even if we all wanted to do that, I’m not sure it would be the smartest thing we could do. I absolutely love the fact that I have access to an ocean of information at my fingertips, even if I’m not interested in 97% of it.

It took a little over two hundred years before Toffler came up with a name for the menace we had created, even if it’s a stupid name. And we’ve spent some of the last one hundred years trying to figure what we could do about it.

In recent years, a paradigm shift has occurred. The dark future that Toffler was convinced would occur is by no means etched in stone. He may not have been able to see a path that would change his outcome, but that doesn’t mean other people couldn’t. Individuals, groups of individuals, entire societies, and most importantly, corporations have started making a conscious effort to to raise the bar of ethical standards in everything from agriculture to zoology. And that includes pretty much everything in-between.

These are very good things. These are the things that enable me to keep hoping for a better tomorrow. And if enough of us can keep this up, we might not end up destroying ourselves in the process of improving our lives.

To be sure, we still have a lots of work to do. And we have long way to go before we sit back and try to believe that we’ve done enough to correct the error of our ways. But we are doing something. And that’s the most important thing.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Where Do We Go from Here? is a song from the American rock band Chicago. It was on their second studio album, which was released in 1970. The song was written by Peter Cetera. He was the bass player, and one of the three primary vocalists in the band way back then.

Perhaps Somewhat Little Known Fact About Me: Chicago was one of my favorite bands in the 1970’s. I’ve seen them in concert at least three times, and I saw them twice before Terry Kath picked up a handgun he thought wasn’t loaded, pointed it at his head, and pulled the trigger. Unfortunately, the gun was loaded. Terry died to death instantly. That tragic event happened on January 23, 1978. He was 31 years old.

Just in cases you didn’t know, Terry Kath was Chicago’s lead guitarist and another one of their main vocalists. He was also one of the greatest guitarists that ever lived. That’s not just my opinion. Jimi Hendrix thought Terry was a better guitarist than he was, and Jimi is arguably the greatest guitarist that ever lived. Needless to say, Chicago was never the same without Terry., and they quickly dropped off my list of favorite bands after he got dead.

The title song of this post is about how life is short, and that if you look around, you can see that people need to embrace each other with love all the time, and not just when the morale of the United States was at an all-time low. Just in cases you don’t remember, America was going through a period of social upheaval 1970. There was a war going on Vietnam, which was becoming increasingly unpopular, and organized protests against the war had been gaining in popularity for a couple of years.

Fifty years later, the song is every bit as appropriate now as it was back then. It’s kind of a pretty song. You could check it out on the YouTube® if you don’t have anything better to do.

* * * *

Every day just gets a little shorter, don’t you think?
Take a look around you, and you’ll see just what I mean
People got to come together, not just out of fear

Where do we go
Where do we go
Where do we go from here?

* * * *

I don’t usually receive a whole lots of comments about anything I write in my blog, but I’ve received one comment last week that has made me do a whole lots of thinking:

_{Your blog was so much more enjoyable before it got political. I guess continuous idle time and less and less things to keep the mind busy in retirement does that (I see it all the time including my own parents). I used to really enjoy reading your commentary on life and really appreciate your witty writing style. I actually know who you are “in real life” and always thought you were so interesting (in a good way). Although I don’t talk to you or your family anymore, I was so happy to discover your blog because it was a joy to read. But as time went on, it’s become almost difficult to get through an entire post. After this one, I think I am done. You are so bitter now!}

I didn’t see myself as bitter before I read this. And I didn’t see myself as bitter after I read it. I was more, like, you know, outraged. And enraged. But Shannon’s point about my political commentary is spot on. And as far as my blog goes, she wasn’t the only person that was over it.

So was I. I used to write because it was fun. It has been months since it felt that way. I have been seriously contemplating giving up on writing because I no longer enjoyed doing it. I’m keeping my options open for the time being. I need to find a way to make this fun again, or that the very least, a whole lots less odious and contemptible than it has been of late.

The political stuff was exhausting. I never felt comfortable in my role as a political commentator simply because it’s not an arena that I’ve ever spent any time trying to understand or master. You can ask around. I’m one of the least politically savvy people I know. And most of the people I’ve worked with would probably agree with me.

In retrospect, none us that got involved in the Trump Wars were paragons of restraint and decorum. The gloves came off early in that fight. And there was no referee. Given the circumstances and the polarized reactions, from both sides — all of the things that were said had to be given some form of outlet. They probably didn’t need to be repeated ad nauseum…

The only way I appear to learn anything is from my mistakes. Sometimes it takes longer for me to realize what the lesson is than others. Even still…

So, I apologize to everyone for succumbing to tunnel vision and falling down a rabbit hole and everything that ensued afterwards. And for those of you that endured it and still continue to read my rambling thoughts, thank you for hanging in there with me.

* * * *

Try to find a better place, but soon it’s all the same
What once you thought was a paradise, is not just what it seemed
The more I look around I find, the more I have to fear, ooh

Where do we go
Where do we go
Where do we go from here?

* * * *

I have a feeling the first half of the new year is going to look and feel a whole lots like the old year. No, that doesn’t sound like it’s going to be much fun, does it. The global pandemic is still running amok across most of the world. The much-touted and highly anticipated vaccines have just started being rolled out. If we’re lucky, we might start making some headway against the virus that has changed so many aspects of our lives by June or July.

I don’t have a very good record of predicting the future, but I’m feeling pretty confident in this assessment.

_{I would totally do this if I had any hair…}

To the best of my knowledge, this is the first global pandemic I’ve lived through. It’s possible that I’ve lived prior lives, so maybe I was alive during the Black Plague in the 14th Century. Or the Spanish Influenza outbreak at the beginning of the 20th Century. However, I don’t have any recollections of any of those lives, so any helpful hints I might have to offer are lost.

I’m not sure anything from Dark Ages would apply today, even if I could remember it. Well, maybe someone should write a nursery rhyme. Something to the tune of Ring Around the Rosie…

Quarantine and Lockdown

Don’t forget your facemask

Sanatize!

Don’t touch your eyes!

Just stay home!

* * * *

If humankind has proven anything about itself in the brief time that we’ve walked the earth it would be that we are resilient. We can adapt to pretty much anything. We’ll figure it out, take what we learn from this, apply it to pretty much everything we do. And start over again.

We’ve all had to do this multiple times in our lives. It’s nothing we haven’t had to do before. We all should be used to it by now. But change is one of those things we all try to resist in one way or another. I know I do. And then I look back and think, Well, that didn’t suck anywhere near as much I thought it would. And that has happened pretty much every time.

I’ve started reminding myself of that almost every day. And to remember to be grateful for all of blessings that have been bestowed upon me — for reasons that I will never understand. I had no idea that life could ever be this good. If I wasn’t such an emotionally restrained person, I’d probably cry tears of joy.

* * * *

I know it’s hard for you to
Change your way of life
I know it’s hard for you to do
The world is full of people
Dying to be free
So if you don’t my friend
There’s no life for you
No world for me

* * * *

Writing this has been a positive exercise for me. Or an exercise in positivity. Maybe both. I probably needed to do something like unto this far more than I realized. I don’t know, maybe you needed it, too. It was a step in the right direction for me. A good place to start from in the new year. This is the place I needed to get back to. All I have to do now is figure out how to stay here.

Curve balls. I’ve never been very good with them.

I’ve been contemplating the Meaning of Life lately. Tacitly implied in any contemplation of this sort is purpose. Purpose isn’t something you find — it’s something you define. And in that process, purpose will somehow end up defining you. Well, that’s how I’ve come to understand it anyhow.

I’ve come to the conclusion that there are two types of people in the world: Those who try to make the world the better place. And those who do not.

I have been both of those types of people in my lifetime.

I’ve heard it said that it costs nothing to be a good person. I’m going to add that there’s no discernible reward for being a good person either. You don’t receive any special perks or frequent flyer miles for being a good person. You don’t get an exemption from tragedy, or heartbreak. And it sure as hell doesn’t do anything to improve your golf game…

Trying to make the world a better place is usually a huge pain in the ass. Closer to the truth, it’s probably a whole lots of pains in the asses.

But being a good person, and trying to make the world a better place, will never wake you up in the middle of the night to haunt you. That might be the only benefit we reap. But for me, it’s more than enough.

* * * *

Let’s all get together soon, before it is too late
Forget about the past and let your feelings fade away
If you do I’m sure you’ll see, the end is not yet near, ooh

Where do we go
Where do we go
Where do we go from here?

* * * *

Happy New Year. Go forth, and do good things.

Time Passages

Remember when we were going to do that two week thing to flatten the curve? Whatever happened to that? Are we still doing that? Does anyone know which phase of COVID-19 we’re in now? Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care?

There is some good news. We’ve made it to October. In quick succession Halloween, Thanksgiving, then Christmas will be upon us, And then we can say, Adios, motherfucker to 2020.

And hope that 2021 isn’t one of those years that says, Here, hold my beer…

* * * *

Time Passages is a song by the Scottish singer/songwriter Al Stewart. The song is story about a guy who starts daydreaming on a cold winter morning before he goes to his dead-end, boring-ass desk job or something.

I research a lots of things that end up in my blog posts. Seeing how I know next to nothing about Mr. Stewart, I decided to look him up. He apparently has quite an esteemed status among those in the music industry, which is something I never would have thought possible.

I have at least one of his CD’s. I consider his songs to be musically intricate, but mostly corny. And Time Passages is one of his corniest. But here’s the ironic part: Al agrees with me. Even he thinks this song is crap.

* * * *

Time, being relative — it has seemed to drag by at times this year. But not even COVID-19 can make time stop. Life has gone on, which is what it always does. One of my virtual friends in Canadia had a baby. It’s a girl! Thank God. She didn’t think she could handle a fourth boy.

A couple of my virtual female friends in the States are unexpectedly in relationships — something neither of them thought would ever happen again. I hope it works out well for them.

We’ve all gotten older this year, those of us that didn’t get dead. Three of my real friends have lost family members this year. My best friend from high school lost one of his sisters to suicide. My best friend from the Minneapolis VAMC lost his oldest son to an accidental drug overdose. My best friend who chronologically fell in between my other two best friends — his dad just died.

Those deaths are immense tragedies to my friends, and they’ve hit me hard as well. My heart rejoices, and breaks, just like it always has. Even in this very strange year, there are some things that haven’t changed.

* * * *

I find it hard to believe that we’ve been living in Mexico for only four years. It’s even more unreal when you consider that this is the year I had planned to retire. I originally thought I’d work until I was 65, but then I had to change my plans and retire at the age of 61.

Yeah, that was a real bummer…

Our time here somehow seems like it’s been much longer, almost like we’ve been here most of our lives. Maybe it’s because Einstein’s concept of SpaceTime is four dimensional… I’d expound on that further, except I have no idea what it means, and I’m not interested in doing that much research.

Likewise with our darlingpreshadorbs purebred Mexican street kit-tens.

Mika and Mollie. See? I told you they were cute

My lovely supermodel wife and I rescued them a little over two years ago, and we cannot imagine our lives without them now. They keep us entertained, and shower us with a lots of love and affection.

We adopted them just before we moved into the Chula Vista Resort and Spa, the spacious gringo mansion in which we currently reside. And it seems like we’ve been here longer than two years, too.

Our lease is coming up for renewal soon. We know we’re going to be able to renew our rental agreement, we just don’t know for how long. We know our landlord likes us because Lord Mark just upgraded the washer and dryer, bringing the laundry room into the 21st Century.

We’re also going to collaborate with him on getting the swimming pool repainted. I think Lord Mark had it done on the cheap just before we moved in, and it shows. We’re planning on doing a much more lasting fix this time around, one that will stand the test of time.

* * * *

Time. The country of my birth is obsessed with time. Everything must run like clockwork. Time is of the essence, and time is money. Life runs at a hurried pace. In fact, it’s a rat race, and races are always won by the person with the fastest time.

It’s possible that time is also important in Mexico, but I haven’t seen much evidence of it here in the Lakeside Area. We don’t live in a sophisticated urban area. We live in a little rural village up in the mountains. Here, time is much more of a whatever/whenever kind of a thing.

It’s been a bit of a readjustment for us, but all in all, it’s been a good reminder. There are actually very few things in life that are so urgent that they need to be done NOW.

* * * *

Time. Nothing escapes the passage of time. Everything is changed by it. I was young once. I had hair. I’m going to be 65 in December, and I can’t remember the last time I actually had to comb my hair.

With the passage of time, some pains are lessened. And others are only made worse. In terms of aging and growing older, the emotional pains I’ve carried around forever are starting to fade away, apparently so they can be replaced by the physical pains of no longer being young.

Waking up in the morning is usually a painful experience for me. Thanks to years of risk-taking behavior, I have two bad ankles, one bad shoulder, two hips that take turns having bad days, a bum knee, and a totally fucked up back.

I’m relieved that no one has videotaped my first steps in the morning. It’s an unattractive combination of an ambulating penguin and the rusty Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz.

_{See? I told you. And it’s my right knee, too}

In my opinion, it’s the worst part of getting old. I don’t know how this works for the rest of you who experience chronic pain, but when my pain level rises beyond more than usual, I am overwhelmed with nausea, which makes everything feel just a little bit worse.

I’ve lost at least 15 pounds since we moved here, and I wasn’t on a weight loss diet for any of that time. People tell me I look good for my age. I’m sure they mean it as a compliment, but from my point of view, I’m more of a pig that has learned how to apply lipstick.

* * * *

Time. I remember the days when time was a precious resource that had to be carefully monitored and managed. I used to be a registered nurse. There was never enough time to do all of the things you wanted to do in an eight hour shift.

Time is now a more or less mundane resource that I possess in abundance. My view of that might change as I grow closer to death. I spent the first third of my life trying to kill myself, the second third of my life wondering how I managed to survive, and now I’m finally learning how to live in peace with myself.

I’m going to guess that much like unto Socrates, I’ve spent a goodly amount of time examining my life. And after all of that introspection, I’ve come to two conclusions: One, I may have done a lots of things in my life, but one thing I didn’t do very well was take the time to actually enjoy it. And two, I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to stop examining my life.

Seriously.

There are times when reviewing the videotape is a good thing. You can dissect your words and actions, analyze the outcome, and figure out what you can do differently to make improvements.

There are other times when reviewing the videotape will only highlight what a fucking idiot you were, and there’s nothing you can do to change that. All you can do is accept it, and be grateful that you are no longer that person.

I’m learning how to become that person. I haven’t been doing so great at it so far… I’ll probably get better at it as I becoming more practiced doing it. After all, it’s not golf.

* * * *

Time. It’s something you tend to have either too much of, or not enough of. It rarely seems to be measured out in perfect doses. The hardest part about writing this post has been knowing that I wasted so much time being wasted.

One of these days, probably right after I make peace with myself and my past, I’ll probably want to have some it back.

The Year of Living Dangerously

If 2020 doesn’t end up being the strangest year of the New Millennium, it can mean only one thing. There’s another year, lurking somewhere out there in the darkness of the unforeseen future, that is going to sneak inside of the house, raid the refrigerator, trash the place, fuck everyone in the ass, then walk out the front door without even saying, “Thank you, have a nice day!”

Yeah, I suppose it’s something to look forward to. Just between you and me, I hope I’m not here to see it. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t enjoy the anal sex part.

* * * *

2020 has been fraught with peril for most of its existence thus far, and it’s only June! And it has come equipped with an impressive array of options designed to kick your ass. First, there was the COVID-19 pandemic and all of its attendant quarantines, lockdowns, restrictions, health precautions, and stuff.

There’s a huge list of reopening protocols for schools, businesses, and everything else that almost no one completely understands, so there’s a good chance you’ll get dead from this once it starts being rolled out in earnest.

In mid-April, some people grew tired of waiting to get dead from the Coronavirus, and started the anti-lockdown protests to speed up the process of more people dying to death. The protests were — believe it or not — worldwide.

In the United States, protesters opposed the shelter-in-place orders in their states for various reasons. Many said they wanted their businesses reopened so they could go back to work. Others insisted the lockdowns were a violation of their constitutional rights. I’m sure there were more…

The most publicized US protests were in Michigan where militant white “protesters” armed to the teeth with semiautomatic assault weapons stormed the state capitol, and shut down the legislature. These heavily armed patriots were, by and large, Trump supporters. A lots of them wore MAGA hats…  In response, The Donald said this in one of his tweets: …they seem to be very responsible people to me, and called them very good people. 

* * * *

But wait, there’s more! On April 17th, Trump fired off three tweets in rapid succession:

LIBERATE MINNESOTA!

LIBERATE MICHIGAN!

LIBERATE VIRGINIA, and save your great 2nd Amendment. It is under siege!

Those three states are led by Democrats. When interviewed about his comments, President Trump said his tweets weren’t meant to tell the states to lift their stay-at-home orders, but added some elements of the states’ plans to halt the spread of the virus had gone too far. I’m not sure if he ever tried to clarify what he meant by that last part.

Regarding his last tweet Trump charged that in Virginia, “…they want to take their guns away.” The state’s governor, Ralph Northam, had signed several gun-violence prevention measures such as requiring background checks on all firearms sales.

The governor didn’t sign any orders to confiscate so much as one firearm, but we all know what’s really going to happen, am I right? So The Donald was correct in his defense of 2nd Amendment because of all the issues that have presented themselves this year, gun violence in America hasn’t been one of them. Well, most of the time…  Am I right?

Donald Trump can rationalize his words and actions any way he likes, but the fact remains that the sitting President of the United States actually encouraged the American people to disobey a government mandated lockdown.

* * * *

Widely Known Fact About Law and Order That The Donald Obviously Doesn’t Understand: Those who uphold the law cannot themselves rebel against it.

* * * *

Remember the Murder Hornets? I know there was a lots of talk about them…  If there’s any good news about 2020, murder hornets are it. For something with a name that sounds like it came from the lowest level of Hell, they’ve probably been the only thing that won’t kill you to death this year.

* * * *

Ahmaud Arbery, Georgia. Breonna Taylor, Kentucky. George Floyd, Minnesota. They are only three of the names of people of color that have been killed to death by white vigilantes or police this year in the United States. The sad thing about this list is I’m sure it’s a helluvalot longer. The even sadder thing is this isn’t the only year I could make a list for.

Ahmaud Arbery                                 Breonna  Taylor                                  George Floyd 

In truth, there have been 400 years of of racial inequality and injustice that black Americans have had to endure and overcome. Slavery. Jim Crow laws. The Civil Rights Movement. And wherever the fuck we are now. I’m not even sure how to describe it. It’s certainly better than the Slavery Era, but it still falls far short of All men are created equal, and liberty and justice for all.

For the record, I have no idea what it’s like to be black. To the best of my knowledge, I have never been discriminated against because of the color of my skin. I’m probably the last person who should be trying to tackle this issue.

Be that as it may, it’s about goddamn time that all Americans start speaking up and doing something to change the status quo. If you think having to endure a lockdown is violation of your civil rights, there are fates way worse. How would you react if you knew your children had a better than average chance of being murdered on any given day simply because of the color of their skin?

* * * *

In February of this fucked up year, Ahmaud Arbery, an unarmed black man, was shot to death while jogging in a neighborhood outside of Brunswick, Georgia, after being pursued by two white men in a pickup truck.

Those men were Gregory and Travis McMichael. They told the police that there had been “several break-ins” in the area recently, and they were trying to protect the neighborhood. Records from the Glynn County Police Department do not validate their claim. In more than seven weeks before the shooting, the only reported theft in the area was a 9mm pistol taken from Travis McMichael’s unlocked truck. 

Evidently these two very responsible, very good men started patrolling the streets in their truck, looking for the person that had walked off with Travis McMichael’s handgun, even though they had no idea who that person might be.

So, the father and son duo of half-cocked vigilantes were patrolling the streets. They saw Ahmaud Arbery jogging and demanded that he stop so they could question him. They would tell the police that they had planned to make a citizen’s arrest related to the string of burglaries.

Both of the men were armed, so Mr. Arbery wisely chose not to comply with their…request, and tried to run away from any trouble. The McMichaels pursued him in their truck, blocking off his escape. There was a struggle between Ahmaud and Gregory. At least three shots were fired, the fatal shot being fired by Travis.

The video is available online, if you have the stomach to watch it. After it was posted, it created an immense uproar that ultimately led to both of the McMichaels being arrested and charged with murder on May 7th — more than two months after the shooting occurred.

I can’t find any evidence that Mr. Arbery had a criminal record, or was even considered a person of interest in any ongoing investigations. He appears to have been a decent man who liked to jog. He wanted to become an electrician and open open his own business. He was 25 years old.

* * * *

On March 13th, Breonna Taylor was fatally shot by three white plainclothes officers on the Louisville Metro Police Department while she was sleeping in her bed. The police were serving what they call a no-knock warrant, and were searching for drugs.

The police were investigating a known drug dealer named Jamarcus Glover, whom they already had in custody. Taylor and Glover had once dated each other, but that relationshiphad ended several years ago, and the two of them were no longer romantically involved.

According to the police, they thought Glover was using Taylor’s apartment as a drug/money delivery house. That’s why they decided to raid it in force in the middle of the night.

Breonna’s current live-in boyfriend, Kenneth Walker, thought someone was breaking into their apartment on the night in question. He called 911, grabbed his handgun which he has a license to carry, and fired at the intruders in the living room. He hit one of the officers in the leg. Walker says the police didn’t identify themselves after they smashed in the door with a battering ram, and he was only defending himself.

The police say that they absolutely, positively identified themselves as police officers after they entered the apartment. When Mr. Walker fired at them, they returned fire, discharging their weapons at least twenty times, yet somehow managed to miss the man who had fired at them every time. However, their hail of bullets did hit Breonna eight times. She died in the hallway of her apartment.

I don’t want to diminish the seriousness of this event in any way, but if this had happened on TV, or in a movie, we would immediately know who the Bad Guys were because they are always really bad shots in a gunfight.

There’s going to be a HUGE lawsuit over this incident. There two are vastly conflicting accounts of what happened that night. At this moment in time, we don’t know exactly what happened, but we do know this: someone is lying.

No drugs were found in the apartment. Kenneth Walker was arrested and charged with attempted murder of a police officer and assault. Those charges have since been dropped, so that should tell you something. Prior to that night, neither Breonna Taylor nor Kenneth Walker had any criminal history or arrest records.

None of the officers involved in Breonna’s shooting have been relieved of their duties at the time that I write this. None of them have been arrested or charged with any crimes, but the entire Louisville Metro Police Department will undergo a thorough “top to bottom” review of its policies and procedures.

No doubt wholescale changes will be instituted when it is completed. And Breonna Taylor’s family is going to end up owning half of the city of Louisville.

Breonna Taylor was a certified EMT who was working as an emergency room technician and was planning to go back to school to become a NICU nurse. By all accounts, she was a good person who lived to help others. She was 26 years old.

* * * *

On May 25, George Floyd, a 46-year-old black man suspected of passing a counterfeit $20 bill, died in Minneapolis after Derek Chauvin, a white police officer, pressed his knee to Mr. Floyd’s neck for almost nine minutes while he was handcuffed face down in the street.

Two other officers further restrained Mr. Floyd, and another stood by, preventing onlookers from intervening. Throughout the arrest process Mr. Floyd repeatedly said that he could not breathe. During the last three minutes of the arrest Mr. Floyd was motionless and had no pulse, but officers made no attempt to revive him. Officer Chauvin kept his knee on Mr. Floyd’s neck even as EMT’s attempted to treat him. 

George Floyd was pronounced dead at a nearby hospital. There’s going to be an equally huge lawsuit as a result of this incident, too.

There were several videos of Mr. Floyd’s arrest and death posted on social media. Protests of his killing spread all across the nation, but in Minneapolis the protests quickly escalated into riots.

Again, I don’t want to diminish the tragedy of this event, but 70% of the people living in Minneapolis have already finished their Christmas shopping.

And it wasn’t just Minneapolis. At least 12 major cities declared a curfew on the evening of Saturday, May 30, and as of June 2, governors in 24 states and Washington, D.C, had called in the National Guard, with over 17,000 troops being activated. 

Stores were looted. Buildings were burned to the ground, including the Minneapolis 3rd Precinct — the police station where the four officers involved in the death of George Floyd were headquartered.

All four of the police officers involved in the death of George Floyd were fired the following day. Today, Derek Chauvin was charged with one count of second-degree murder, and the three other officers on scene during the killing of Mr. Floyd were charged with aiding and abetting second-degree murder.

* * * *

Lea and I used to live in South Minneapolis. The former 3rd Precinct building is one and a half miles from our old house. The scenes of the destruction to the area we know so well have been extremely distressing and heartbreaking for us to watch. To say that we are saddened by these events is a major understatement.

Speaking for myself, I can’t condone the actions of the protesters — the looting and destruction of property — two wrongs don’t make a right, but I understand their anger and their outrage. And I sure as hell cannot condone the murder of an unarmed man by police officers. If the police had handled their responsibilities better, there wouldn’t have been a fucking riot.

* * * *

“A riot is the language of the unheard.” ~ Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

I can only hope that the right people are listening now, and are motivated to make critical changes to yet another American system that is in serious need of being overhauled.

Unfortunately, the one person that needed to hear this message most seems to be incapable of understanding anything that doesn’t revolve around his perception of his approval ratings.

In response to the Ahmaud Arbery murder President Trump said this, “I think it’s horrible and it’s certainly being looked at by many people – I’m speaking to many people about it…” But he added this, “You know, it could be something that we didn’t see on tape,” suggesting that something could have happened off-camera that contributed to the shooting.

And that unseen thing would make the cold-blooded murder of an unarmed man who was jogging down the street somehow less horrible?

I can’t find anything Trump said or tweeted in response to Breonna Taylor’s death.

In response to the Minneapolis riots, which were a response to George Floyd’s death, Donald Trump had this to say on the Twitter:

Look! The Twitter almost grew a set of balls!

* * * *

In 1967, Miami police Chief Walter Headley used the phrase “When the looting starts, the shooting starts.” during hearings about crime in the city he was supposed to serve and protect.

Little Known Fact About Walter Headley That’s Probably Not Too Hard to Believe: He had a long history of bigotry against the black community.

* * * *

When questioned about his statement, The Donald had no clue about its origin or history, which leads me to believe that he thinks he invented it, and was probably very pleased with his cleverness as he wrote it, sitting on the toilet in Oval Office.

After realizing that he had fucked up yet again, The Donald tried to redeem himself by posting this tweet:

See? I tried to warn you! You stupid people

* * * *

Heavily armed Trump supporters protesting the lockdown terrorize the Michigan legislature are very responsible, good people. Unarmed people in a Democratic state protesting the death of unarmed black man by white police officers are THUGS, and the President threatened to shoot them down like dogs.

The scary part about this is some of the more unhinged, lunatic fringe Trump supporters might interpret this as a call to arms. If that happens, we’re all going to wish we could go back to the good old days when all we did was complain about being locked up in our houses so we wouldn’t get killed to death by an imaginary pandemic.

* * * *

But wait, there’s more. As usual with The Donald, he couldn’t screw up just once. And also as usual, it gets worse.

What?!? Did they run out of candy already?

On May 31, the lights inside the White House were turned off for the first time since 1889, and President Trump, the First Lady, and her son, Barron, took shelter in a reinforced bunker under the White House when anti-racism protesters laid siege to the presidential estate.

This is the same guy who, in 2018, said he believed he would take courageous action in an active shooter situation, even if he didn’t have weapon. President SuperDonald has a new nickname now:

I like leaders who don’t hide in a bunker. I’m very disappointed in Donald Trump

Officially, the Secret Service said they decided to move the President to the bunker to protect him from the unarmed group of protesters that at no time tried to breach the White House grounds. The Donald had quite a bit to say about how impressed he was with the Secret Service while he was hiding in the bunker with his teddy bear.

You can look it up.

Not to mention that the White House is probably the most well-protected piece of real estate in the the world — Trumped actually bragged about what would’ve happened to the protesters if they had tried to enter the White House.

You can look that up, too.

On June 1, President Trump re-emerged from hiding to speak in the Rose Garden as peaceful protesters were violently expelled near the White House. Law enforcement teams used chemical agents, flash bangs, and shields to disperse the demonstrators.

The crowd was cleared to open a path to St. John’s Church, a historic building slightly damaged by a fire amid Sunday’s clashes between police and protesters. In front of the church Trump spoke and postured with a Bible in his hands — and denied that he ever retreated to the bunker.

Yes. That was his message of comfort to the grieving citizens of the United States.

And then, officially, just like that! President SuperDonald Trump wasn’t hiding in a bunker. The Secret Service didn’t move him for his protection. He was inspecting the bunker…during a riot… because, you know, “…someday you may need it.”

* * * *

When Donald Trump was running for President, many people looked at him as a breath of fresh air. He wasn’t a professional politician, he was a businessman. He was a Washington outsider who wouldn’t play by the rules! It couldn’t be any worse than the same old/same old bullshit of the previous administrations, and seriously, how bad could things get?

We should all know the answer to that question by now.

Yes, he was a businessman, but he was a businessman that declared bankruptcy four times. And one of his businesses was a fucking casino! How bad do you have to be to lose money with a casino?

The house always wins. Anyone who has ever been to Las Vegas knows that mantra, and there’s a reason for that.

It’s true!

Among world leaders, Donald Trump has proven himself to be a laughstock and a national embarrassment. He has insulted every other world leader, except two: Vladimir Putin, dictator of Russia, and Kim Jong-un, Supreme Leader of North Korea — two men who would kill every man, woman, and child in their countries if it meant they could stay in power for five more minutes.

The Donald loves these guys! He can’t say enough good things about them, and he kisses their asses every chance he gets.

President Trump has bailed out American farmers twice to the tune of $28 billion, something he had to do because of his disastrous trade wars with China. After he bungled his response to the COVID-19 pandemic, he bailed out the entire country with a $2.2 trillion stimulus package.

Anyone want to take a wild guess how we’re going to pay for that?

Roughly $500 billion went to American households in the form of $1200 checks that were supposed to support families for ten weeks, or more. The rest of the money went to small businesses and large corporations. The Donald spent far more money saving Wall Street than he did Main Street.

When asked about racial inequality, President Trump stated, “… there’s no racial tension [in America]. We have a fantastic relationship with the African American community…” And when he was given the opportunity to be a leader to people who feel that they’ve been betrayed by every leader since Abraham Lincoln, Donald Trump threatened to shoot them to bits, then fled into the nearest secret bunker to hide like no President before him ever has.

When he finally emerged to present himself as Comforter-in-Chief, he unleashed violence on the people he has a fantastic relationship with so he could have a photo opportunity in front of a church with a Bible in his hands. A Bible that he can’t name a single verse out of.

I’ve got a verse for you, Mr. Trump. It’s the shortest verse in the Bible, so even you should be able to remember it.

John 11:35.

Jesus wept

WWTDD? (What Would The Donald Do?)

2020 has been a year to reckon with so far, and we’re only three and a half months into it. In my opinion, it’s been like unto getting a root canal and a conscious colonoscopy simultaneously. And maybe having a kidney stone, too.

I need a crash cart, and a catcher’s mitt, STAT!

2020 would have been a hallmark year anyway. It’s a Leap Year. It’s an Olympic Year. And it’s an Election Year in the United States. It already had major significance written all over it.

And then the Coronavirus thing happened, and the whole world seemed to go ape-fuckin’ batshit crazy overnight.

Whether or not we all die to death from the widely and wildly hyped Coronavirus global pandemic, one thing has become painfully obvious. We are all going to be greatly affected by it.

Seeing how almost everything has been ground to a screeching halt as a result of the precautionary measures to prevent its spread, even here in bucolic Mexico, I decided I’d try to examine the evolution of how we ended up here. I’m going to do it by outlining Donald Trump’s responses to it because his lack of action, and actions, are the easiest things to find on The Google®.

If you want a different approach, do your own goddamn research. That said, you might as well read my post. You’re probably not doing anything, or going anywhere right now either…

* * * *

The first thing everyone needs to remember about this crisis is President Trump disbanded the National Security Council directorate team for global health and security and bio-defense in 2018.

When he was asked why he did it, he said, “I don’t know anything about it.” In his defense, he also said this: “This is something that you can never really think is going to happen.”

And he has a point. Never, (The Black Death) in the entire history of our planet, (The Spanish Influenza) has there ever (SARS) been (Ebola) a global (AIDS) pandemic. No one (The Andromeda Strain) has ever predicted (Outbreak) that this (The Walking Dead) was (Jurassic World) something (The Center for Disease Control) that was even (The World Health Organization) remotely possible. 

* * * *

Donald Trump was aware of the Coronavirus way back in January of this year. At that time he said, “We have it totally under control…  It’s going to be just fine.”  White House acting budget director Russell Vought said this: “Coronavirus is not something that is going to have ripple effects.”

* * * *

Does anyone know when people started hoarding toilet paper? Better yet, why? Who was Hoarder Zero, and how did everyone else come to the conclusion that five hundred rolls of toilet paper would keep them safe?

Of all the weird things that have happened so far, this is the most mystifying event to me. COVID-19 is a respiratory virus, not a gastrointestinal bug. Even if it were cholera on steroids, I fail to see how stocking up on toilet paper would help much.

I am a psychiatric nurse, so I welcome the input of other medical professionals who understand internal medicine, disease processes, and medical treatments far better than I do. However, I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that this reaction was caused, in part, by the fact that a great many people have no idea how medical issues work.

Case in point, there are some people that believe sugar causes diabetes. Additionally, when asked why they were taking medications to manage a medical condition, a great many of my former patients had this response: “My doctor told me to take it.” They couldn’t even tell me the name of the medication.

From my point of view as a mental health professional: If you bought a truckload of toilet paper because of the Coronavirus, your best bet would be to insert an entire roll of toilet paper up inside your ass. Sideways.

While some people might have assholes large enough to easily accommodate this, the vast majority of us do not. I couldn’t get a shampoo bottle up my ass even if I wanted to, and I don’t want to. Back when I was a psych nurse I knew several people that put shampoo bottles up their asses without any problem. But I doubt even they could get an entire roll of toilet paper up their asses.

* * * *

In late February of this year The Donald said this: “[The number of people infected is] going very substantially down, not up.” “The 15 [cases] within a couple of days, is going to be down to zero.” And he said this: “The Coronavirus is very much under control in the USA…  Stock Market starting to look very good to me.”

[Note: Two weeks later on March 11, according to the people that compiled this timeline, there were over 1,000 confirmed cases in the United States.]

More late February: During a campaign rally in South Carolina, President Trump likened the Democrats’ criticism of his administration’s response to the new Coronavirus outbreak to their efforts to impeach him, saying “…this is their new hoax.” During the speech he downplayed the severity of the outbreak, comparing it to the common flu.

Also in late February, The Donald said this: “It’s going to disappear one day, it’s like a miracle.”  The next day his son, Eric, added: “In my opinion, it’s a great time to buy stocks or into your 401k. I would be all in . . . let’s see if I’m right.”

From what I can tell, he was wrong.

In late February, the stock market started going into a free fall and probably crashed a couple of times. I could be wrong. I understand the stock market about as well as I understand how cold fusion works. Maybe this is a good time to buy stocks…  It’s probably not a good time to own stocks…  That said, I also welcome the input of financial advisors about this issue.

* * * *

Okay. We have the situation under control. It’s not a big deal. There aren’t that many cases. The stock market is doing well. Anything else?

Well, there was March…  This is where The Donald stepped up to the plate and started to shine.

He appointed his Vice-president, Mike Pence, to head the Coronavirus Task Force. Prior to this, the only thing Pence had been noted for in this administration was his ability to kiss his boss’s ass in just the right spot. I can’t find any documentation that supports this, but Mike Pence’s first statement was allegedly a call for prayer. Which is what the Republicans ask for every time there’s a mass shooting or something.

In early March, The Donald said there would be a vaccine — possibly even a cure — available very soon, like, you know, a couple of months. That is untrue. There isn’t a vaccine, and it would realistically take eighteen months or more before any reliable vaccine would be ready to go on the market.

But wait, there’s more:

“Well, I think the 3.4 percent (The global mortality rate estimated by the World Health Organization for COVID-19), is really a false number. Now, and this is just my hunch, and — but based on a lot of conversations with a lot of people that do this. Because a lot people will have this and it’s very mild. They’ll get better very rapidly. They don’t even see a doctor. They don’t even call a doctor.

“You never hear about those people. So you can’t put them down in the category of the overall population in terms of this corona flu and — or virus. So you just can’t do that. So if, you know, we have thousands or hundreds of thousands of people that get better, just by, you know, sitting around and even going to work — some of them go to work but they get better.”

* * * *

Maybe The Donald is right about that, although I have to admit I have a difficult time following his rambling logic. I think a lots of this shit has been blown way out proportion, too. That said, most world leaders don’t tend to rely on their hunches when they’re dealing with a crisis. They rely on their expert advisors because no one person can know everything they need to know about something they probably don’t understand at all.

Oh, wait. Trump fired most of those experts. But he did keep the guy that thinks windmills cause cancer…

* * * *

And then there this statement from The Donald:“I like this stuff. I really get it. People are surprised that I understand it. . . . Every one of these doctors said, ‘How do you know so much about this?’ Maybe I have a natural ability. Maybe I should have done that instead of running for president.”

Dr. Trump’s Genuine Indian Snake Oil Coronavirus Elixir! Only $25,000 a bottle!

And then he said this: “I didn’t know people died from the flu.” I’m not making this up. He actually said everything I’ve quoted him as saying. And he’s pretty sure the Coronavirus will collapse on itself in April because the temperature gets so fucking hot in April…

“Anybody who wants a test gets a test.” That statement is total bullshit. But another thing to consider is testing for this illness has been woefully inadequate in pretty much every country on this planet, so there’s that.

And then something really weird happened. To combat a hoax of a pandemic that wasn’t a very big deal and was totally under control, The Donald went into shutdown mode. He had previously closed the border to China because this is a foreign virus, then he closed the border to Europe because, “the free flow of people throughout mainland Europe makes the task of managing the spread of the virus difficult.”

I’ll give him that point

The Donald is also contemplating shutting down the southern border with Mexico, and he’s probably got a few more measures he’s going to institute, but he doesn’t know what they are yet. So stay tuned to your local news channel for updates as they occur. There’s sure to be a few hundred more of them, and you’re not going to have anything better to do.

Today, President Trump had this to say about the Coronavirus situation: “I’ve always known, this is a real — this is a real — this is a pandemic. I felt it was a pandemic long before it was called a pandemic. All you had to do was look at other countries…no, I’ve always viewed it as very serious.”

Oh! Another hunch? I have no doubt The Donald believed himself when he said that. So maybe I should start taking this thing more seriously. But I doubt that Trump has any serious regard for the people that have been or may become ill because of the disease. I’m guessing he’s far more concerned with how it has damaged his economy, and how much it will affect his personal ratings.

That would be a very serious thing indeed.

* * * *

Just to put this into perspective: As of this precise moment in time, there have been just under 200,000 Coronavirus cases reported worldwide. Just under 8,000 people have died, worldwide.

As of this moment, almost the entire US has shutdown. Schools have closed, more probably will. Businesses are closed, more will follow. Sporting and entertainment events have been cancelled. And it’s not just in the US. This is happening on a global scale. It’s even happening here in the Lakeside Area.

This isn’t a ripple effect. This is a motherfucking tsunami.

Good thing/bad thing? Beats the hell out of me. But it does seem a little drastic coming from a guy who has repeatedly said he had the whole thing under control and there was nothing to worry about, then denied he ever said that, and then claimed he knew it was a serious pandemic all along.

Well, at least something is finally getting back to normal…

Keep making America more better greater, Donnie Boy

People in America are essentially sitting at home squeezing their Charmin®, and stocking up on guns and ammunition just in cases the Coronavirus comes knock, knock, knocking on their front door. Yep, gun and ammo sales are way up. You gotta love the way some Americans think.

* * * *

I have no real idea how History will view President Trump, but it’s my guess that it won’t be kindly. He won’t be known as the leader that not only made America great again, he was the great leader who saved the country when it needed saving most.

The Donald doesn’t seem destined to go down as America’s favorite President, even though he claimed he was in several of his Tweets. He’ll probably be remembered as the man who didn’t act fast enough when disaster struck, or he’ll be the man that totally overreacted when he finally decided to do something.

That’s one of the perks of being President. It’s a thankless job, and you get blamed for everything that happens once your ass sits on that chair behind the big desk in the Oval Office. Ask any former President you happen to see, they’ll tell you.

The world may never know if the Coronavirus was a serious pandemic of apocalyptic proportions, but we definitely know this: there are far more stupid people on this planet than there are smart ones.

Maybe when the next pandemic appears, and there will be another one; maybe we shouldn’t do anything to stop it.