Bygone Bullies Prepared Me For 2020

My younger self would’ve never believed it possible that, come 2020, I’d actually be able to put a positive spin on being bullied from the 4th grade thru the 9th grade (inclusive)… in other words, for 46% of my K-12 pubic schooling experience.

What I learned from being verbally / physically assaulted… even spat on… had actually given me some firsthand insight into discrimination and brutality issues. And my retreat from that ugly scene had even better prepared me for coping with a pandemic shut down world.

You see, my tormentors had unwittingly taught me what it feels like to be discriminated against. In turn, feeling sorry for myself had actually taught me how to feel empathy for similarly persecuted individuals. So, whenever / wherever I see oppression rearing its ugly head… well… my heart sinks and eyes tear up.

To put a face on wretched discriminatory conduct, we look no further than Donald J. Trump’s insensitive, in-your-face and online bullying… all for the express purpose of devaluing precious human beings based upon their ethnicity, religion, orientation, physical attributes and disabilities. And as if that weren’t bad enough, already, there are also his stunningly childish, vicious, ad hominem verbal attacks.

But let’s dig deeper into to the specifics of my days of yore M.O. to avoid bullies. To put it into pandemic parlance… this involved none other than social distancing / isolating. Other than my parents and only sibling, my only after school contacts with humanity had been listening to my transistor radio in my bedroom. The affable DJs and the recording artists they featured, during their broadcasts, had become akin to my surrogate friends.

By the time my rebellious teen years arrived, I opted to appear so radically different from my oppressors that I grew my hair long. Interestingly enough, my winding up in violation of my school’s stringent grooming protocols, left the assistant principal few options but to suspend me! And this was to punish me HOW? Anyway, in time, long hair styles became my lifelong preference. And that certainly doth work out well when a pandemic shuts down the barber shops.

Granted, about three years into the new millennium, I began entertaining the notion of seeking and experiencing the life I had never had… i.e. to make the most of whatever time I have left… but how doth one quickly kick lifelong, hermitlike habits, such as mine? Of course, the Trumpian Flu soon rendered that Q a moot point.

Ergo, I’ve now come to the realization that that life may never happen… mainly because the powers that be… drawing on the abundance of their density and rapacity… have opted to prematurely re-open our world. And… long sigh… the resurgence of COVID-19 is already underway.

Now, whether or not we’re ordered back into our bunkers, that’s where I’ll be. These days, I won’t even need to rely on radio DJs anymore.

You see, yearning for a career that would jibe with my reclusive lifestyle, I had chosen Communications Arts for my college major… i.e., in hopes the radio station studio might, someday, become my new hide out from a bully saturated world.

And, when that plan didn’t pan out, I set up a modest home studio… where in the months of corona sequestration, yet to come, I’ll be spinning my own LPs / CD’s for an audience of one… moi.

 

Stay Safe… Stay Home… Stay Healthy…

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Postcard Not Delivered Posthaste

 

INTRODUCTION: Coronavirus / COVID-19 is a literal life or death matter. This pandemic is a serious problem, which Donald J. Trump still does not take all that seriously. Nonetheless, his Task Force recently mailed out a postcard, offering sound advice, which all recipients must take seriously! The problem I do have with this postcard is its three months late arrival! The period of social distancing / isolation, which many of us have been voluntarily complying with, likely could’ve been shortened considerably… may’ve even been avoidable… had Trump acted more responsibly and expeditiously!

The blog, below this preface is thick with sarcasm. I’m venting in this manner because I find Trump’s ego, political ambition, amorality, frivolity, callousness and avarice driven agenda both insufferable and sickening… especially against the backdrop of a pandemic. There can be no denying that his unpreparedness and dawdling have [1] made life miserable for everyone, [2] caused needless illness, suffering and death and [3] unleashed economic devastation that will defy recovery for multiple decades.

An honorable man would [1] publicly admit he’s been dead wrong, [2] offer his compassion and get well wishes to the ailing, [3] express his heartfelt condolences to the family / friends of all who’ve perished, [4] humbly ask for our forgiveness, and last but not least, [5] promptly resign!

Now… let’s get this blog rolling…

A few days ago, I received a postcard emblazoned with an IN ALL CAPS “salutation”. At the very least, it had to have been typed in font size 18. The wording…

PRESIDENT TRUMP’S
CORONAVIRUS
GUIDELINES FOR
AMERICA

FULL DISCLOSURE: I haven’t, actually, taken the time to measure that font because I deem any crap that’s been dredged from the bowels of the Trumpian Swamp, to be loaded with contagion. It’d take an epidemiologist to figure out the specific microbe(s) which may be involved. Of course, now would not be a good time to ask for help… seeing how those professionals are already overworked and over stressed.

I did wind up letting Donny’s post card hit the floor, where it still remains to this very day. Next, I rushed over to the sink… STAT… to suds up my hands under a steady stream of whooshing water… as hot as I could tolerate… while singing “Happy Birthday” for 20 seconds… uh… 3 times. One cannot be too careful when potentially dealing with crotchety cronies and/or grabbed playmates / porn stars and/or puckered up butt kisser underlings and/or “Fox and Friends” propaganda ministers, who may’ve sneezed and/or coughed all over Donny, beforehand.

NOTE TO SELF: Pick up and dispose postcard, next Monday, after cleaning toilet and before removing gloves.

Initially, I did find Donny-the-Prima-Donna’s hogging the limelight totally off-putting, because he could’ve never even begun to figure out the syntax, spelling and grammar… let alone amass the actual, accurate medical advice. I suspect at least one ghostwriter was in play here (maybe Dr. Anthony Fauci?).

Of course, the capitalization of letters certainly doth jibe with Donny’s TWEETSTORMS, which are Full Of It. More to the point, had his Task Force not plastered his name so prominently, he may’ve even nixed the printing and mailing out of these postcards… right from the get-go.

Seeing how the ratings conscious Donny, all along, has downplayed the deadly nature of this take no prisoners pathogen… it makes perfect sense that only his name doth appear. After all, he, alone, is responsible for allowing coronavirus to spread like wildfire all across the very nation he had taken an oath to preserve, protect and defend.

The primary reason that only his name appears is his way of bellowing out, “VOTE FOR ME!” However, what those three words are really saying is…

I’M THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES WHO DRAGGED
MY ASS AND MUCKED UP MY MANAGEMENT OF THIS VIRUS
SO UTTERLY COMPLETELY THAT I WILL LIKELY KILL OFF ONE
QUARTER MILLION OF OUR FELLOW CITIZENS. VOTE FOR ME!

 

 

 

My best wishes that you stay well! If you are ailing, you have my hopes and prayers for a full, speedy recovery. Wherever / whenever we discover a leadership vacuum, it’ll be incumbent on us to do everything we can to save humanity. Please stay safe by continuing to heed the following common sense, disease fighting advice…

[1] Practice good hygiene (scrub hands often at least 20 seconds), [2] Cover coughs and sneezes, [3] Avoid touching eyes, nose and mouth, [4] observe social distancing protocols (remain at least 2 meters / 6 feet apart [5] avoid large crowds or (ideally) just stay at home and [6] if ill, self quarantine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fortune Cookie Blog (A Rude ‘Tude)

 

There is no stronger, more compelling evidence of a leader’s bad attitude;
namely his mindless ineptitude & moral turpitude, than the flagrant lack
of his quietude; the absolute, sheer magnitude and snowballing plenitude
of his heated, repeated Tweeted & bleated denials of his character flaws!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Walk on the Mild Side

 

Earlier on this day… around mid afternoon… it suddenly dawned on me that, grocery wise, I was ill prepared in the event of another terrorist attack… one that’d coincide with tomorrow’s 9/11 anniversary.

Now, at the risk of you deeming me a mad as a hatter conspiracy theorist, check out the following…

THEORY #1: I would not put it past mad-dog Donald Trump to be up to no good. Considering how he’s been hobnobbing with the Taliban, wouldn’t you like to be a fly on the wall? Be eavesdropping on all of their chatter? Or a bug on the phone? Have they been colluding / plotting to raise hell, tomorrow? Such a horrific distraction certainly would take the heat off Donny… e.g., that would definitely sabotage U.S. House Democrats’ efforts to investigate (maybe even impeach) him.

THEORY #2: Even if that’s not the case, we are still talking about Donny, the keeper of nuclear launch codes. Is he ready to rumble? To meltdown mentally? To meltdown globally? Don’t think he’s that stupid and/or insane? Guess again. He actually believes firing off nukes into the eyes of a hurricanes can break them up! YIKES… uh I mean Oops! Let’s not piss the fake prez off too much. We’d be ill-advised to remind him of what an ass he’s been making of himself… i.e., by (still) insisting that his fairy tale about Dorian hitting Alabama was / is true.

THEORY #3: Even if scenario-wise it’s none of the above, Donny could still “have the last laugh”. That tempestuous, Tyrant-o-saurus Rex could still easily roll up the world with one of his Tweetstorms, too.

Anyway… let’s try to dismiss the theories about how the Trumpster may’ve been spending HIS Tuesday afternoon and get back to MY actual Tuesday p.m., instead. With my bread supply insufficient relative to my goodly stash of peanut butter and strawberry jam it was off to the supermarket. Weather-wise, the conditions had been so sunshiny warm and pleasant, I decided to hoof it.

The best part of walking is that, unlike driving, the mind is free to wander. All along the way, I found myself fondly reminiscing about this day back in 2001… the last day of normalcy… not only for Americans but for all the good people of planet Earth. Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder. Might even this post 9/11 “new normalcy”, which we’ve all been enduring for nearly two decades, also be up for grabs? Could it, too, suddenly, come tumbling down… wind up a smoldering, rubble strewn, emotional Ground Zero? After all, armed to the teeth, lone wolf terrorists… both domestic and international… could still be afoot.

Since no one really ever knows, for sure, where and when a terrorist attack will erupt, I did feel the first wave of relief while the cashier rang up my purchase of bananas and three loaves of bread. It felt even better to finally be out the door and homeward bound.

Of course, am I really home free? True, there had been no macroscopic assaults, but what about WMD of the microscopic variety? If so, the symptoms won’t show up right away.

That duly noted… as I now type these words… all does appear to be well. I had already refueled my car late last week and with my provisions now adequately restocked, all that’s left is our awaiting what, hopefully, will remain tomorrow’s serene, solemn and spiritual service to pay our respects to all the good people we lost on Tuesday, September 11, 2001.

 

 

 

 

Tweeted “Sheet” to Hit the Fan? ~ 1 Quick Limerick #059

 

From Tweetstorm crow’s nest, Don Trump doth address,
To warped warmonger stance, grants foes access,
Sec of State’s flip-flops / retractions,
Might not abate, stop reactions,
Trump’s self-made enemies, pissed, could aggress!

 

Oh… btw… I’m including an earlier version of #059, where I assigned the title “prez” and referred to the Secretary of State by name. Of course, I soon realized it’d be unwise to be so specific… owing to the ongoing Robert Mueller investigation and the present-day, White House’s toxic work environment / revolving door where staffers / appointees are here today gone tomorrow… where tomorrow could literally be TOMORROW!

 

From Tweetstorm crow’s nest, “prez” Trump doth address,
To warped warmonger stance, grants foes access,
Pompeo’s flip-flops / retractions,
Might not abate, stop reactions,
Trump’s self-made enemies, pissed, could aggress!

 

For more limericks (as well as other verses and song parodies, etc.), head over to my “Categories Menu” and select “Poetry”.

 

 

Tweetstorms, Terrorism, Taxes & Testosterone

 

Being a big fan of alliteration, I could not help but notice all of the “T” words in which one can neatly compartmentalize this past year’s front page news… hence my above blog headline.

Indeed, we are just about ready to say, “Good-bye”… or more to the point… “Good riddance” to 2017… a lousy year that was all about unevolved, little boys trapped in grown men’s bodies… little boys behaving badly… very, Very, VERY BADLY!

While I never opted into parenthood… nonetheless… my fatherly nature is still thoroughly ingrained within my DNA. To be sure, every instinct within my being now tells me that the time is ripe for some much overdue Father – Son chats.

And in spite of these talks involving XY entities, I still invite and encourage everyone in possession of XX chromosomes to read on, as well.

 

Tweetstorms

 

Bad Boy Donny:

You have the uncanny knack of knowing the exact wrong thing to say at any given moment… and then ignorantly and undiplomatically Tweeting / uttering your inflammatory words. Most notably and worrisome is how you’ve been targeting the enemy of your own making… North Korea’s Kim Jong Un.

Are you even remotely aware of how much carnage your “fire and fury” Tweetstorms could unleash? How there’s the potential for other, mentally deranged “world leaders” getting into that “the more the merrier” and “let’s all pile on” mindset? Thermonuclear exchange reducing our entire world to a burnt out cinder and irradiated graveyard may be how you choose to partay… but… then again… is that not how all of you terrorists roll?

FYI, don’t expect anyone who winds up being a survivor to ever come staggering towards what’s left of DC. No well-wishers will be gathering around you just to stroke your massive ego… to thank you as you boast about your “historic,” “epic,” “tremendous,” “biggest ever,” nuclear holocaust (NOTE: Words in “” are Donny’s uttered faves). After all, it’d be tough to talk while one is puking from both the radiation sickness and the revulsion we feel for you.

The best way you could “Make America Great Again”… the only way you could serve and save our nation… indeed our entire world… would be to veg out in front of the TV and/or go golfing every last damned day, which remains in your term… and not run for reelection!

 

Terrorism

 

Bad Boy Mass Murderers:

If you ever believe the voice in your head is god’s… guess again. If his words are prodding you to kill people, rethink that NOW! Guys, we are taking about a Supreme Being… an entity that created an entire universe. Do you really, Really, REALLY SERIOUSLY believe such an omnipotent force would even need to stoop so low as to outsource the extinction of the human race to insignificant blobs such as you?

In other words, you are no longer needed. Why not… you ask? Well, that’s because we already have two terrorists who are far better equipped to kill off seven plus billion humans. Indeed, you can outsource that task to the professionals… Dotard Donny and Killer Kim.

On a more positive note, believe it or not, there just might be some hope for you rank amateurs. How so… you ask? Well, many of you DO dredge up your god to justify your maiming and murdering of the masses. If you could no longer do so, might you even feel remorse? Think about it.

If nothing else, first, wrap whatever is left of your warped minds around that preceding paragraph and then stand down.

 

Taxes

 

Bad Boy Wealthy Whiners:

To be clear here, I have nothing against prosperous businessmen who live the good life. What I do take exception to is how you ingrates don’t fully appreciate America, a nation where the entire financial system is totally rigged in your favor… where this system lavishes upon you a “too big to fail status”. You, the powerful, are permitted to totally F-up your dirty deals, tank out the global economy and then gleefully laugh your asses off when Uncle Sam… in the role of Robin Hood in reverse… bails you out by shaking down the powerless working poor.

I also take exception to how you’ve accumulated more bucks than you could ever spend in five lifetimes… yet, still refuse to pay even five pennies in taxes.

Wake up call… if, after taxes, you still can enjoy your outrageously opulent lifestyle… just pony up and shut up!

 

Testosterone

 

Bad Boy Politicians, Hollywood Bigwigs and Mass Media Types:

Wake up you vile little boys. Guess what? In reality, healthy interpersonal relationships DO NOT play out like hardcore porn videos… ones that, no doubt, insensitive creeps like you routinely fast forward just to drool over the “money shots”.

Guess what? The male appendage (let’s refer to it as “IT”) is not akin to some sort of key that, on your mere whim, will open every door. “IT” does not act as a magic wand that… upon dropping your drawers and wildly waving it about… will instantly cast a spell that’ll suddenly, somehow, make you irresistible to your targeted, soon-to-be traumatized victims.

Even in the straight, consensual context… from a purely anatomical perspective… “IT” is primarily designed to provide the male pleasure… not the female. In other words Bad Boys… that blows your magic wand theory.

Until you Bad Boys stop objectifying the people you meet… until you first establish genuine friendships that’ll last even if they don’t lead both of you to the bedroom… until you learn to respect humankind… especially womankind… just zip up and shut up!

 

End of Father – Son Chats? Not likely… we are talking about unevolved, little boys trapped in grown men’s bodies… little boys behaving badly… very, Very, VERY BADLY! And, regrettably, that’s a species that’s nowhere even close to becoming endangered.