Three As A Number

There once was an episode of Loony Tunes where Yosemite Sam was supposed to inherit a million British Pounds, with one stipulation: He was not allowed to curse or lose his temper for 24 hours. Of course that 'raggin fraggin varmint' was doing everything he could to make Sam lose it. Tell me, friends. Do you ever have days that make you feel like Sam? Me? You're rootin tootin I do! Ooooooo, I hates rabbits! It's only natural to hates rabbits! Time will tell and history shall judge. I shall do neither. Still... I wonder what would have happened if NBC News back in the day put out a long article on Germany's "Resilience" or Japan's "Resilience" and made sure to cast Roosevelt in the worst light as they possibly could. How would that have gone down in the good 'ol US of A? Who needs Tokyo Rose or Axis Sally when you have NBC? Oh well.. As a great dumkopf once said, flark it! We'll do it live! Flarking thing Flarks! It's another day at the circus, and I don't think even a painted smile is gonna work today. I couldn't even guess what has put me in such a mode (or mood) (whatever) but it's very much on today. Some days the only difference between this place and a freaking freak and clown show is the amount of makeup worn and the number of clowns in the cars. Even the greatest actor is going to have a tough time in a role so contrary to the soul. I'm supposed to do this. I'm supposed to do that. I am supposed to behave and act in a certain manner that has never been me at all. What a load of bull! The casting director must be higher than Snoop Dogg on an airplane. Fo shizzle. But this is just the day I'm having. Guess I'll just chill until the next episode. Where in the hell is all this frustration and anger coming from? This morning's bullshit was quite typical, no better or worse than yesterday, or the days before. It was certainly nothing to go full-on Oscar The Grouch over. I think it was maybe my reflecting on a stupid YouTube video, giving that whole spill of how I am supposed to be the aggressor in certain situations, and how I am somehow pathetic for not being so. I guess the irony is this aggressive feeling I get from being told I've got to be the aggressor when I don't flarking want to be. It would be hilariously funny if this wasn't myself we were talking about. Why? Why must it be me when it is so damn clearly not me at all? Damn it. I fit this world like a freaking octagon peg in a square hole. God, it sucks being this biological organism. I honestly wish I were a flarking robot. I am a thoughtful soul with a lot of complex thoughts. Am I really supposed to be running around with my tongue hanging out like some horny hairless gorilla? I have spent a lifetime fighting that sort of inclination. I may dwell in the brain of a mere advanced animal, but my soul is not a goddamn animal. I am energy. I am probabilities. I am a wave. I am so much more than this damn body. It's not to say I don't have these wants and needs. I do, very much. They drive me crazy. But my greatest need is love and to be loved. Without love, it does not mean a damn thing. Any creature that walks, creeps, or crawls can fuck. That doesn't make anybody special. And do you know something? Sex without love is the worst torture. See, if things go that far physically without going that far emotionally, it leaves a void that can never be healed. Furthermore, I don't want to have to chase for love. I want someone to be with me because they freely chose me, because it's where they want to be. I don't want to have to stalk like a hungry lion. I need a partner, not prey. I need love, love, love. I can't remember any moments more inspiring than minutes, even hours, of saying nothing, of doing nothing but sitting quietly in the presence of someone I love. Nothing to do, nothing to be said, for all has been spoken beyond words, and simply being there was all that was ever needed to be done. It's a pretty picture. And I like pretty pictures. To be shaken so abruptly back to reality is rough going. I feel this morning just like George Jetson, caught on a treadmill, trapped in the machine. No stopping, no slowing down, no way off, and no way out. As a certain space fish once exclaimed, "It's a trap!" But also as a Robocop named URL once said, "You know the law, you gotta do what you gotta do." And... I shall do what I gotta do. (And here I thought Stop N Drop had been in business since 2008). Perfect year for that particular booth because I thought about it a lot in 08 and 09. (Yet I am grateful such thoughts never became actions). Life can be difficult. Life can be lonely. Nobody can see you bleed. Nobody can see you cry. Especially when you've long been taught you're not supposed to let them. Such is the way of The Force. Such is the way of life. And sometimes the only comfort is in knowing it's not forever. As Cheech Marin would say, "Wow, that's heavy shit, man " Yes it is, yes it is. Life's surprises are far more jarring than our ability to react. Life's changes are far more abrupt than any change of heart, any change of soul. And it is often best not to bother with all those scattered pieces. Far better to sweep them aside and build anew. When it's over, it's truly over. Some doors, once closed, most likely should never be opened again. The time has come and gone. You can hold onto the happy moments, the memories, and most importantly, the lessons learned, certainly the wisdom gained, but that chapter is over. You can't add to it. The reason why has nothing to do with the places or the people, the way you feel, or maybe how they feel. In a completed chapter, sealed by time, there can be no unfinished business. You can't spend your life lurking in doorways. You can't paralyze your future with might have beens from the past. As it is written, there is a time to search and a time to give up as lost. This is not a surrender to be ashamed of. This is not a surrender at all. It is facing forward to move ahead, rather than looking back and going nowhere. Most of all, in those few words, those very few paragraphs of wisdom in which I can honestly say I believe for certain: There will be a time for peace. There must be. You know a gritch is gonna gritch and a grouch is gonna grouch. What they tend to forget is that I, the Great Cosmic Wie can grouch back better than the best of them. Oh, but I do try to keep a better attitude, though I too can be rude. (If I have to be.) I try to be positive. I try to be nice. Still, by the time it was all over, I wanted to mop the floor with both Mr 40MPH and Mr Tailgating Manbun. I hate being the middle of a car sandwich. You know, slowpoke in front of you, speed demon behind. Not my idea of fun and doesn't bring out the best of me. Oh and when I finally reach the clearing at the edge of the highway jungle, I find that out here in the figurative Serengeti, the hyenas are sure going wild today. And I'm not lion. You'd better reign them in, Scar, or your plans for a coup d'état might fail spectacularly. Damn, what's with this place today? I am left alone in all the ways except the one way I wish to be left alone. I guess it's not the people's fault that I am in no mood for dealing with people today. Most everybody's got a gripe. Most everybody's got an agenda. And I just don't want to hear it. "We're sorry, the Awesome Cosmic Wie you're trying to reach is temporarily disconnected and out of order. Please take a note of it and try again later. Party on, dudes." I think this fiddling around with the time is the stupidest thing humanity has ever come up with. Did the rate of Earth's rotation change? Nope. Cutting 4 inches off the top of a blanket and sewing it onto the bottom does not make it longer! If you are not satisfied with the daylight at the end of your workday, try changing your work schedule instead of flarking with absolutely everybody's time. Otherwise, let's pick one and stick with it. Idiots! Now, even in my current grogginess, my current job is perfectly fine with me. Actually I like the job, I like the people. Still, even if it wasn't, even if I didn't, I wouldn't dare think of applying for a certain job listing I have seen every morning. Frankly, I would prefer shoveling coal in Hell. The climate would be better, and even the devil would make for a kinder, more understanding boss. So, nope. I'll stay right where I am. The grass may not be greener, but at least it's not on fire. Her name was Double Margarita. When he met her at the bar, he thought she was just what he ordered. Not only did he fall for her, but he stumbled and staggered too. She was sure sweet at the bar, but damn was she mean the next morning! And he found himself regretting he ever met her. The vision he saw in that harsh morning light was not the angel he met last night. Dear, Dear, Double Margarita. You were once a lovely senorita, but you turned out to be one heluva hangover! This little story was inspired by one of the 'people I may know'. Her first name was Debbie (I forgot the last name), but I kept reading her name as "Double Margarita."" Interesting name, I think, and I get a hangover just thinking about it. Oh well, cosmic shift, clean cup, move down. Hello, Universe. I've gotten a good start on my garden. I got my potatoes planted last week, tomatoes and squash this week, and I'll have the Speckled Butterbeans and Purple Hull peas next week. Between the flashy CD's and the "Scaredeer," my son put up, maybe they won't get mowed by the deer. Wish me luck. My grandpa might shake his head at my slightly crooked rows, but I think both he and my parents would be proud. I hope it goes well. I have been working on shifting my focus to different things. I have spoken about the harm of social media and the degradation of the internet in general. And I have come to ask myself why I spend so much of my precious time there. Is there really anything more to be found? I have literally Doom levels in the hundreds of thousands. Do I really need any more? Or should I be playing and demoing the ones I already have. I have damn near two terabytes of games I have never played. Do I really need more? Or should I explore the many games I already have? Fan fiction was one avenue I once enjoyed. Now, the best ones were never completed or went in a direction that ruined them in my book. Oh, there are lots of funny videos and pretty pictures out there... But even they have gotten old, not to mention redundant. There are only so many ways to visualize. The possibilities are not as limitless as some might think. So, I am thinking of a shift, something that is hopefully going to improve my health, both physical and mental. My focus will be on the garden and the yard. Even on the computer, my focus will be on exploring and enjoying what I already have. Let's play all the games and meet all the characters. Let's explore all the Doom levels, every room, every corridor. Let's build and create. I think I could feel so much better. I do believe the time has come. It's been a long time coming, and it's long overdue. It is time for the Great Cosmic Wie to make a course correction. The current path is just no good at all. I don't know if others promised or if my own expectations did. I only know that all those possibilities that were supposed to exist are just not out there. It was supposed to be limitless, containing anything and everything I could possibly want or need. It was promised there would be water in the desert and air on the moon. All I needed to do is look hard enough, search long enough, and it would all be there for me. This is the broken promise. I can't recall who made it, but it's shattered on the floor. Just like so many things I once believed in with all my heart, it sadly meant nothing at all. There still is no air on the moon, nor water in the desert. The promise was never genuine. The expectation was never even close to reality. The time has come for a Cosmic shift. The time has come to give up on what has been long lost, and search for water and air in other places. Places where possibilities become probabilities. It was always totally insane to repeat the same actions, expecting different results. The moon is airless. There are places in the desert where cooling rain is mere fantasy. I might as well expect an angel to suddenly appear and wrap me in a warm, loving, tranquil, peaceful, perfect embrace. Running into a wall hurts enough the first time it happens. One can't be blamed for that first time. But the second, third, fourth, and so on? Surely, the lesson must be learned eventually. There's still no air on the moon, just as there is still nothing here at all. We often wish it to be there so much that we almost believe it is. A wise space cadet hopes and dreams but still checks for air before stepping out of the ship. It may take some of the adventure out of away missions, but it sure saves Mucho Buckazoids on recruiting new space cadets. And someone such as I, the Great Cosmic Wie, should really know better by now. There's no air on the moon. And M-O-O-N, that spells moon. Laws, yes. And I'd rather be lost in space than bound to the desert planet of Friendzonia, plenty of air, but no water to speak of, nor love, nor love. I'm like that good little pet, constantly doing neat pet tricks for a treat that never comes. Good dog, but stupid dog. Woof-woof! Maybe I should start biting once in a while. I'm better off being the Big Bad Wolf. So, where ya going there, little red riding hood? Oh well, it all boils down to the same conundrum, doesn't it? Nice wolves finish last and are seen as poodles to everyone else. Even when they're still big and bad but only in good ways. The cruel irony here is that only Big Bad Wolves get anywhere close to that basket of goodies. Being nice will get you lots of places, my friends. Many places but one. No matter what anyone says. Sometimes, I wonder if this is indeed the afterlife, and I just don't know it yet. Maybe in a past life (that I don't remember) I was some terrible evil bastard who said and did a lot of horrible things, and my current life is actually my punishment for that. So, now, for my sins, I get this lifetime of feeling unworthy, unwanted, unloved, lonely, pointless, hopeless, inadequate, incomplete, and Yadda Yadda Yoda. And to make it more of a hell, I was temporarily given a few special souls who actually did love me, care for me... And then they were taken away from me. Now that is the spice that makes hell just a bit more hellish. Damned and doomed. Be my luck, this life just repeats over and over. Now, one might think that never being touched by death would be a good thing. In circumstances such as these, it is the harshest punishment ever. There is no escape. And that leads to a clean cup move down. Why? Because it's getting awful damn dark in here. That's why. I need a light. I am to the point where I don't even care if it's a Bud Light. Just give me something, please. Sometimes, I love the silence and solitude. Sometimes, I hate it. Sometimes, it hates me back. And I never really know from one day to the next how I'm going to feel about it. Really. I am just as surprised as you are.I spent part of today with somebody's radio in earshot. What can I say? Most any computer can generate noise. I did this in the 1980s using nothing more than a few commands in GWBASIC. I just never tried to push that crap off as music. It..... Has..... No..... Soul! Sometimes I wonder if we're already many years past the peak of human civilization and the arts. I remember soul. I remember meaning. I'm just not hearing it right now. I guess I should be thankful that I got to hear the best there ever was. Save 20th century art for the space people of the future. It's the only way they will ever know true soul. This 21st century drivel? I just don't get it. Bland noise that I'd prefer complete silence to. I don't get it. Go figure. Go fish. Go fishing with Red Holland. I've got nothing. Come on in, satellite! Calling every galaxy, every star. Calling all protons, neutrons, and electrons.... Buzz Lightyear to Star Command: Do you read, over? Hello, there! General Kenobi! You are a bold one! Set phasers on torture. Holy Shatner! Put them in the Iron Maiden! Iron Maiden? EXCELLENT! Execute them! BOGUS! "I said where's the freakin bourbon?!" You know? I hate to say it, but Freddy Krueger has a point here.