Archive for Ventually

And soddenly

It’s the rainiest month ever — over eighteen inches with nearly a full week to go — and if I’m not actually drowning, I’m not taking it well either.

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Wheeled of dreams

The late guitar-picker Jerry Reed once did the math:

Well, I figured it up, and over a period of time
This four thousand-dollar car of mine
Cost fourteen thousand dollars and ninety-nine cents.

For that matter, I’ve done the math myself, and I conclude that you need to be damned sure what you’re buying before you write the check.

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Too old for this

In which I bewail the state of the world while quoting both Karl Marx and Danny Glover. It’s a nasty job, but somebody has to do it.

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Riding talky

Not that you were wondering, exactly, but since I seldom have passengers, this may be your one and only chance to find out what I’m thinking while I’m driving home.

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Post-Brooks

Not that you were waiting for them, exactly, but here are some thoughts on the sacking of Oklahoma City Thunder coach Scott Brooks.

(Warning: Contains several gratuitous pop-culture references.)

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Murrah plus twenty

If you were anywhere within four or five miles of downtown Oklahoma City on this date in 1995, it’s a pretty safe bet that you heard it. Felt it. First you wondered what; then you wondered why. We’ve pretty much settled the first question.

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Unmagical realism

For those of you who might have thought that academia is overrun with sexual non-binary types and other individuals hard to characterize, well, that might be true in the Ivies, but it doesn’t work out here on the Plains.

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Surrounded by voices

Were you ever in a darkened room with a fan running? And if so, did you ever hear what seemed to be fragments of voices coming from its general direction?

I have.

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Who was that unmasked man?

I have always been a firm believer in What You See Is What You Get. Or, you know, not.

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Why we are doomed

Time was, every young American was equipped with, as Hemingway is supposed to have said, “a built-in, shockproof crap detector.” And they would keep that invaluable device all their lives — until they ran for political office.

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The more you know

I’m not saying I’m the expert on Too Much Information, but I’m the expert on Too Much Information. Maybe.

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Body shots

Dear teenage girl: No, you should not send nude photos of yourself to some boy you barely hardly know. Strange things happen when your clothes are off.

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Gilded junk

Advertisers want your attention, and they’re going to get it — any way they possibly can.

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Too old to rock and roll

If ever I had a reason to reject that particular description — and I’m pretty sure I did — it’s stronger, not to mention louder, now.

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Declining utility

I’ve never been this old before, and I definitely feel like it.

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And you are…?

If your memory serves you well
We were going to meet again and wait
So I’m going to unpack all my things
And sit before it gets too late

Bob Dylan/Rick Danko, “This Wheel’s On Fire,” as recorded by Brian Auger and the Trinity with Julie Driscoll on vocals.

My memory does not serve me well.

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Tweet unto others

And they will tweet unto you God knows what. I, for one, shrug.

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When the brain hurts

Depressed? “Buck up,” they say. “Smile a little.”

They are, of course, full of crap.

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Virtually carded

Can I pass myself off as 51 instead of 61? I wouldn’t have thought so, but what the hell do I know?

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Alternate choices

She loves me; she loves me not. It’s a lot easier for me to believe the latter.

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Struggling with style

I’ve mentioned before that occasionally I page through the archives, and sometimes, I have to admit, I like what I see.

And then there are the times when I don’t.

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Alone in the cold

The 24-hour bug persisted for a lot longer than 24 hours, and all of a sudden things look a great deal bleaker than they did a couple of days ago.

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My back pages

Once I’ve posted something, I never, ever want to see it again — unless I do.

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61*

It’s a year, a number of years, and a time to reflect that there may actually be some crying in baseball — and some laughs, too.

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The return of the winter blues

Does this time of year actually suck, or is it just me?

Addendum: A second opinion:

Snow and inclement conditions aside, I think winter gets a bad rap. Believe me, I’m the first to complain when I am forced to grab a plastic shovel and dig my way to freedom. However, if you take away the ice, snow, and slush, winter can be a lazy person’s ticket to paradise. Although it may appear that I am trying to find the silver lining, trust me when I say: I lean more towards lethargic than evolved.

I’m definitely down with that latter point.

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Still more random rants

Or, “Things stuck together for no reason other than that I happened to be thinking about them this week.”

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The POODLE bites

In fact, the POODLE chews it, and the little bastard needs to be put out of its misery.

(Title from the late Frank Zappa.)

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Treadmill extensions

On the off-chance that automakers are going to push self-driving cars with the idea that “Look how much work you can get done during your daily commute!” — well, thanks, but no thanks.

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I saw her again

The Mamas and the Papas had a song by this title; it was apparently about a brief affair. This isn’t. Instead, it’s about this:

Why shouldn’t I have, you ask? There are places I should not go.

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Too stupid to live

One of the reasons human evolution, as distinguished from the purely technological advances that either decorate or desecrate our lives these days, seems to have slowed to a crawl, if not actually stopped altogether, is that there is apparently no punishment for stupidity. You can imagine what I think of that.

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