TERRY MOSHER
JERRY SEINFELD
Some days I feel like I don’t belong, that the world has passed me by and I’m not with the times. Then other says I feel the world is so stupid and I’m the only smart one. But then I add if I’m so smart why don’t I do something about the so many wrongs I see in the world.
So it goes. It’s a messed-up me that sits here in my loft where it’s at least 120 degrees even with windows open and a fan blowing full speed into may space. I’m in hell and that even isn’t counting the hell that I read about almost every day.
The main problem I have is that I’m connected to Facebook, Twitter, and in addition I walk about with a smart phone that reveals to me 24/7 all the stupid stuff that is going on at the moment, and likely will continue on.
It used to be when we didn’t have all this electronic gadgets we didn’t know what stupid stuff was going one and we could just concentrate on picking wild blueberries and lying down in a mint-scented field with a cool breeze blowing in our faces and concentrate on the lazy clouds that slowly moved across an otherwise blue sky with the only break in that being a chicken hawk silently soaring around in circles looking for something to eat.
Man that was the life. Nothing penetrated that peace unless it was the whistle heard blowing in the distance that signaled the neighbor kids had to scamper home or miss dinner.
My world was not so bleak then. I either ice skated on real ice on a real pond, slid over the snow with a sled or toboggan or when winter disappeared went hiking barefooted in the hills, a lone pre-teen loving every crunch of the foot against a fallen leaf. Or I could go fishing off the Stream Valley Bridge, or under it, and catch suckers or carp.
The post World War II years before the Korean Conflict were dreamy. The worse thing that could happen to me, it seemed, was to miss a wide-open shot playing basketball in a barn or at a hoop nailed to the garage.
Our population has nearly doubled from the 1950s and with it have come all the trouble you would expect from having to rub elbows to get along in our crowded conditions.
On those good days when I feel so smart, I wish I could wave my hands and all the problems in the world could disappear. But that kind of wishful thinking is getting weaker and weaker as I age and I realize troubles don’t disappear because you wish it too.
Somebody pays $55,000 for the right to hunt down a prized lion so he can show his friends what a great hunter he is. And I wish – there I go again – that we allowed Lions, and other wild animals and birds, the freedom for much less than $55,000 to hunt humans as trophies they can put on the wall of their caves or nests (it would have to be a big nest). I can think of many so-called humans I think would look good on a wall of a lion’s den (hint: many of them are politicians).
If I didn’t know it before, I sure do now that we share this beautiful planet with many others and my wish (again) would be that we live together in harmony. Leave the lions alone. We put them and other animals in zoo for our pleasure. Well, I think it’s time we have human zoos for the pleasure of lions to gawk at.
Where is the love?
That is a question I ask myself over and over. Why would anybody cut Medicare or Social Security, or even propose to do it? Where is the4 love in that?
It’s amusing if it wasn’t so sad that one presidential candidate says he would use d federal troops to prevent women from having abortions. He is on the side that proposes to gut the federal government, yet will use the government to prevent women from having a choice.
What is the deal with that?
It’s a wacky world, folks, when the biggest blowhard with the biggest ego and false financial credentials tops the polls among presidential candidates. This could be a Bizaro World episode that Jerry Seinfeld envisioned where everything is the reverse of what is.
In this Bizaro World, the Donald is president and his vice president is Sarah Palin. The Donald tells Putin to shut up, invades Iceland just because he can, hosts the Apprentice Show on the lawn of the White house with Democratic members of Congress as featured guests, and fires them all.
When the Boy Scouts of America say gays can be leaders in the organization, he calls in the federal troops.
Man, I’m getting crazy. Too much sun. But, hey, in the Bizaro World of the Trumpster anything is a go. I’m going to be glued to the TV Aug. 6 when the first Republican debate is held. I’m guessing right now that the Donald will kick them all off the stage.
And his poll numbers will soar.
I think I’m having a nightmare, and it’s not even night. Maybe I’m in the Bizaro World. I better go.
Be well pal.
Be careful out there.
Have a great day.
You are loved.