Sunday, March 10, 2024

Must Read, Must Read, Must Read




 If you fall into any (or all) of the following categories, I have stumbled upon something you must read. 

Are you: A) a blue voter, B) a purple voter, C) a NeverTrumper, D) a sick to your heart over politics; E) a Please I Just Don't Want to Hear It!

You may be any and/or all of those depending on what you have hear, read or felt in the last twenty-seven and a half minutes.

But you are here, on this little blog, so something tells me you are just the person to hear what I have to say this day. If you have been "shared" here by a friend, thank them because you will be both calmer and a bit more sane after reading what I am about to suggest. Trust me or trust the person who referred you here.

The January/February issue of The Atlantic has two dozen articles focused on one topic: IF TRUMP WINS.

Hold on, sit back down, take the shroud off your head. Have some tea or scotch or Liquid IV. This actually will help.

I have read all 24 pieces over the last several days and although I learned nearly nothing new about politics or politicians, I did gain some much-welcomed insight into what politics has been doing to me and most of my friends.

If facing two dozen articles seems like a bridge too far read first "The Psychic Toll," which will speak to your sanity and then "The Left Can't Afford to Go Mad' which illuminates the path we must not take.

Unfortunately, this double issue of The Atlantic is off the newsstands but one of your friends has it (make them read it first) and your local library has a copy and a cozy couch to read on.

Trust me this will help, if not . . . send all vindictives to my new sweet home in Alabama.

 

Monday, December 18, 2023

Not for Sissies

 

A few months ago, I was getting one of the annual fall vaccinations at my favorite grocery store pharmacy. I had a short wait and during that time three older gentlemen in a row shuffled up to the window to pick up prescriptions. Prompted to give their name each stated their name and added without a prompt their birthdate. We all get used to the verbal routine.

I noted that each of the gentlemen were walking slowly, one with a walker, one a cane. The years and perhaps the reasons for the medication had clearly taken a toll.

I clearly remember this birth years: 1953, 1951 & 1949.

They were all younger than me.

Despite the various aches and pains, I am thankful and still above ground.