Feelings Of Guilt (FOG)™

Getting those creepy moods again, where it feels like I will get caught doing something wrong, even though I am not doing anything wrong. I am just being ‘invisible’ to my best friend ever on the internet. Since I *know for a fact* that she does not have FaceBook, she does not see any of “what I am up to” by spending my time there, instead of here, where she might happen to find the time to come by once in a while, if she has that much time. Often her own recently grown young family members will make new plans, on-the-fly, just for her to be able to deal with the new plans, ongoing, coming at her. Like her life is not her own, nor has it ever been, she wonders (as do I) if it ever will be hers to live in moderate comfort with nice, hopeful feelings about the next future. My best ever internet friend, who is not half my age for another twelve years, has twice as many children now as I ever had, or ever shall. Of course, I do not actually do the ‘having’ part of any ‘child like’ projects.

So this overall mood lately reminds me of my former lifemate, who yet lives but enjoys being rid of me. She usually figured I was out somewhere having fun without her because I preferred it that way. She could not help that. It is how she was raised. Her parents were highly sociable church people, who were not just along for the ride. They were serious about their biblical approach to all aspects of socializing. You’d think they were also into swapping lifestyles of the faithful and horny. You might be tempted to go so far as to accurately call them totally off-thinking self-righteous non-doers of the Word. That takes more words than they ever cared to use. It is hard to talk with your mouth stuffed full of too much chicken, especially if it is an overgrown rooster member. Cock-a-doodle-doooooo! (wake up, all ye faithless)

Thus, you can enjoy my FaceBook Words on the second page of this fresh post, made on this FF feb fifth, (for Tricia, the Fantastic Four queen of the universal mind).
–g

What Is Trickery (WIT)™

Steve Martin is on lots of folks minds. It is not that difficult to understand why: he has quite an impressive record. In fact, he actually used to ‘put out’ records, and was known for offbeat adages such as “Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid” — the paradox of the fashion-sense that never dies, how can something so transitory ever pass away if it never really started but was perfectly natural — it seems only logical at this point that Steve, however many more decades he continues, will add success to previous achievements, to become re-successful over and over. He might, in fact, only come back to haunt us from the stage or the interview couch (talk-shows are like various forms of psychiatry, if you ever compare the two professions, and bartenders could join that guild) only every so often, since he would surely get tired now, and not just be driven by the natural need to fill up on cheap food, or even overeat healthy food, or pour in the expensive, highly unhealthy food.

It just depends on what one can afford. Usually if one can afford not to work, that is what one would choose to do. Stop working, and think about what to do next, unless one already had something in mind. Otherwise stop going through that process, and pause on the word “think” for just some short while longer. Be flexible in use of the words “some” or “short” because they are relative. I have some short relatives. My sister, and my daughter, for examples, or just use either one, and then for example, are short people.

They used to get wisecracks whenever they would announce over the internal Sequent Usenet Newsgroup (SUN)™ — as I liked to falsely call it then, when we were acronym generators, and Mark S. Wiley was the king of puns, hands down (clapping). He was one of the higher-up software creator-designer engineer guys, and may (or less likely he did not) have had that picture of Bob (aka J.R. “Bob” Dobbs) on his cubicle entrance. It was so funny, almost, at the time. All these guys (and some of the gals) had Bob’s image hanging around them all the time. Like it was “hip” or something to be one of the Bob-people. I did not get it at the time. It was quite a bit about the hip, and often included the word “fornicate” as some substitute or replacement expression. It was sore funny. So where was that part about the wisecracks? The folks in the stockroom would announce: “We are short people here today in the stockroom, so please be patient. We will get your orders processed in a timely fashion!” We all knew that the people in the stockroom were short. Nobody over 5’ 1″, if I remember correctly. She should have also said, “We are funny, people in the stockroom” just to tell us something else we knew was true on a daily basis.

So that’s enough obscure mumbling for one morning. And it really is barely morning, but I am not barely anything. I’m barely barely, maybe, baby. Don’t cry like one. Cry like a man, woman!

WE are CRAZY
we ARE crazy
We ArE NuTs
we ARe nUTs
HappyLittleMorons
Hap pyL itt leM oro Ns
BlblblBlblblBlblbl
BlblblBlblblBlblblblblbl…

(Note: those last two lines are pronounced by rubbing the indexed forefinger across drippy wet lips, to produce a baby-like sound of babble-bubbling.)

Sung to the tune of Brother John, only not in French, which would sound more like Fray Ray Jock-a, or more like Fray Wray ZsaZsa (one of the Gabor gals).

Never you-all mind, this stuff is much too old to be important. Someone once identified my ideas as old-fashioned. I guess I’ll remind Jesus Christ of that when he shows up. He, Himself, is an idea from long before the 18th century, as I figure it. So we might need a new idea now, like that other Alleged Christian insisted his mark had shown us all, while he jogged around with his sweatiness being cooled. (Breezy-Manboy, that!)

–g