In this mixed up skirmish for survival, men have been driven to great lengths… And, depending on the car’s mileage, some have even made it to Bat Country, NV.
An alert driver is a safe driver…
It takes a lot of courage and a strong will (Shatner) to resist the numbness of deep space, whilst traveling aboard this doomed starship.
“Stop almost hittin’ yourself. Stop almost hittin’ yourself!”
And when you least expect it, a stranger wearing a fashionable sky-cap–perhaps a Fedora, or a Trilby… or maybe a Pork Pie!–shows up and condescendingly waves his hands in front of your face, saying Continue reading →
Without even a glance toward the calendar, I know what day it is. I can tell by the mild, dull sense of dread that is percolating in the Mr. Coffee of my soul, brewing a bitter and muddy cup of truth:
We’re into the second full week of January and some of us are still hungover from the New Year’s celebration we don’t remember being at.
And fugue-state times were had by all…
The spring loaded enthusiasm for a new year of possibility has released, and the collective re-cranking has begun. Resolutions struggle to retain their meaning, gym attendance is already slipping, dieting caveats have been introduced…
The streets run red with lolz.
And it is here that we find ourselves: at the crossroads of yet another year, another workweek, wherein the pursuit of self-aggrandizement is feverishly sought while at the same time furiously withheld.
When the screws of the workweek begin to tighten; when the elastic in your dress socks incites a small riot of itchiness on your calves; when you can barely contain your excitement for the weekend, becoming the picture of antsiness…
That’s one way to ruin a picnic…
As the sands of time irritate the soft flesh of impatience, we pause from our relentless trek through tedium and reflect on how far we’ve come.
“Run, Friday, RUN!!!”
But the balancing forces of nature, battling stealthily behind the scenes, are always hard at work. Even as I write this, the Calico Cat of quietude wages war with the Polar Vortex of Vexation!
Ah, the first Monday of the New Year. It feels–if you’ll allow it–so much like the Mondays of yesteryear…
New Year’s Resolution: Learn hands.
No matter how many cups of coffee are imbibed, or extra hours spent sobbing in the shower, the dim demands of a new workweek have extended their reach to us. We must traverse the corridor of capitalism once more.
“Nope… back to the shower.”
Our reflexes are slow, our minds sluggish, and our expressions are frozen “Oh Noez!” of torpid terror.
The Merry-Go-Round of this modern life is punctuated with Monday’s bog of banality. But, with a little creepy and threatening encouragement we can surmount anything…
A touch of positive reinforcement never hurt either, so here’s a wizened little dog mixing a martini for you. Should be ready about the time you get back home.