Just beginning

We're just beginning, I guess. Donald Trump has not assumed the presidency, so of course, none of us has any idea what's going to happen.

I could begin on what I believe will be his first assault on the Constitution by telling the world that flag burners should "go to jail or be deported." You know, that Constitutional expression of free speech? Go to jail for saying it! Thank you, Mr. President-Elect!

I could continue on what I believe is an assault on the foreign policy of this nation's credibility, but, then I ask myself, "Why?"

This Moron is going to end civilization as we know it before his first term is out. If we are not all dead, the Constitution and the government as we always thought it should be (doing things for people who can't do those thing by themselves) is History. But, I, after the first month or so of learning of my terminal disease (Trump's election to the Presidency,) have come to terms with it.

I'm really sorry that my grandkids will never see puberty. I'm sorry that my nephew's kids (Bret) won't see their 10th birthdays. I'm so sorry that my generation failed the world so. And I can't say that enough.

But Now is what we're facing. Death by Stupidity.

Assaults on the Constitution are minor. Assaults on minorities because they are, well, Minorities, are forgotten. In the grand scheme of my kids not living past this presidency, So What?

He will be the cause of the end of civilization, and in the 6 minutes he has left to think about it, he will blame every other fucking person but himself, in that 6-year old mindset tirade we've become used to in his tweets. And then we'll all be dead.

And this country will have earned every accolade and aspersion heaped on it up until that time!

I will NOT fight the assaults on the constitution. Oh, of course, I'll rage against the Stupid! I will NOT physically fight those assaults on minorities that are coming. I will live my life as peaceably as I can, because I'm old, and I can actually do nothing about it, (except vote) and I hopefully won't live long enough to see the end of my grandchildrens' lives by this man's stupidity.

But, of course, God will punish me by making me do so. . .

So now what?

Just saying

Donald Trump hasn't taken the reins of governing yet. We're just halfway through November. Hell, we have a whole two months for him to find 4600 people who will work for him and do so with intelligence and with the respect for the American people we've become accustomed to in the past administrations.

And I hear people telling me they resent the press "attacking" Trump when he hasn't taken power yet.

But of course, we know why. He's not doing the job as we've ever known it to be done before.

He has edged out everyone but ******* Bannon to advise him on his other advisors.  Holy Cow! THAT guy!! ??

Revolution Again!

Here we are. November 17, 2016. And I haven't said a thing about the presidential election last week. I've heard disappointment from some, and, actually, relief from another, but I inadvertently (Haha!) googled Ben Franklin. He was born in 1706. Which means the Declaration of Independence was signed when he was 70 years old!

I'm sitting here thinking I'm 66, too old to make a footprint and, whoa!, I've been "Age-Shamed" by some dead guy almost 250 years ago!

The gloves are coming off now. I can't take the time to engage in complete essays like the Federalist Papers,, but you understand that will be my model in the posts to follow.


I did not vote for Donald Trump. And, like most voting Americans, I did not vote because I liked Hillary Clinton. I was absolutely terrified by Donald Trump winning the election. And now, 9 days after he actually won, I'm more terrified than ever.

Such an odd election. Trump actually reflected more of my views (economically) than any other Republican candidate for decades. He differed from me, of course, when those economic principles countered his own economic interests, which, of course, are many, and great, and, um, well, not mine or the country's.

But I will leave my critique of his policy "whatevers" to later.

For now, I want to address the greatest fear I have.

The degradation of discourse in political and social communication is downright scary!!

We just elected a candidate who admitted to grabbing strange women "by the pussy" and telling those who disagree with him to go "Fuck Themselves!" Aside from the stark horror of realizing that half of my countrymen back that approach to, not only life, but politics, I realize that my daughter and granddaughter are under attack from people I don't even know!

I always thought that if I knew someone to grab my daughter's, or my granddaughter's pussy, without their permission, I would, frankly, kill them. And now, it is a permissible act, as per our now President-Elect. (!?!?!?) I fear I will be going to jail because the environment of what is now "permissible" has been expanded to my definition of what is NOT "permissible."

And it goes beyond that.

The attitude of mocking what you don't like or understand, like the actual ridiculing by mockery by the now President-Elect, of a reporter for his disability, as he did months ago, shows me a person of shallow morals, and less than moral character.

And that "mocking," "Mean" attitude has grown to more and more of the population. Without the fear of that "Oh, we resent that 'Politically Correct" intrusion in our lives!", people are now free to tell the world they really DO hate those "goddamned Niggers!"

Am I the only one to see the irony of those "righteous people" holding those Dixie Flags telling the cameras that "Those demonstrators against Trump should just accept that they lost!"? Really?! 150 years, people!! Holding the Confederate flags?!?! Get Over It!!  I guess the fight is just now starting again. Sigh. . .

As old as I am, as tired as I am, in the spirit of Benjamin Franklin, I will join it!

Here we Go!

Alas (10/29/16)

I can't say this on Facebook. I can't say this anywhere if people will read this. So I say this here, where I get 3 hits a month, by those who all know me..

I will vote for you, I will vote for Alfred E. Newman, I will vote for my Once And Former Self, I will vote for a convicted Serial Killer, I will vote for FDR (again, if I could!), I will vote for my dog Seamus (again! - for real!), I will vote for the Grim Reaper!. . .before I will ever vote for Donald Trump!

I want my grandchildren to grow old enough to see adulthood. And I truly fear they won't with that Messianic, Misogynic, Bully-Headed (Make Fun Of Anyone) Moron as President.

I'm old now. This isn't for me. But for them, my grandchildren. They could have lived long enough to change the world if they could have lived long enough to live in it. I predict civilization will end in 3 years if he's elected.

And he doesn't even have to bring about the end of the world, (You know, with all of us being Dead, and all, while he blames everybody else in the 6 minutes we'll all have left), he will cause the World Economy so much Distress, it will take a Lifetime (or, maybe, I'm told, a Thousand of 'em) to recover. It will make George Bush's economic mess-up a mere blip in the history of the world. Sorta like the Plague. Way back when. "Blip!!"

And I see me in the not so distant future sitting around the dinner table, talking about "the Good Old Days" to my grandchildren, back when we had a "Constitution."  (And, yes, I'll probably have to spell the word!) Oh, you tell me, you see a sense of ironic understatement in what I say? Well, aren't you perceptive?!  And if you don't sense the irony, then I call you out here and now, you fucking dim-witted Trump people! You don't "Get" it! You simply  "feel" it!!? Assholes! There's No thought involved in your choice.

"I HATE Hillary!" An outburst of Just raw emotion. And Understandable Frustration. And the death of our democracy. I get the "Hillary" thing. Really, I GET it! I Never liked her. Period. But we're faced with a dire choice this time. And, to me, there is no choice. She wouldn't ever be a viable candidate if she wasn't running against a monkey this year!

"Ignorance is an Asset" is simply not a valid political slogan! EVER!

The Beauty of our Founding Fathers, with all their discord, was their intellectual ability to explain why tyranny was bad, and their different reasons for dealing with the problems they faced. They, too, hated each other politically, but they found a common cause in the overthrow of tyranny. Today we face the imposition of an unknowledgeable, ignorant tyranny and No One can reason with the Rage that's bringing it about.We appear to have lost that voice in this day.

We're returning to the Populist Era of the Andrew Jackson presidency, and oddly, not based on economic differences, but class and race! Wow! But, this time, with the sinister threat of nuclear world extinction that didn't exist back then. "Bulls in China shops" are refreshing, to be sure, but, probably terminal for our world. And I'm so very sorry. Not for me. And certainly not for you. But for the kids. My kids. And theirs.  My generation did not serve you kids well.

This post was never meant to be a reasoned argument against the electing of Donald Trump to President of the United States. There are MANY other posts out there which have done that, are doing that, and will continue to do that regardless of the election results. This is just me here. And I'm so sad for us all.

PAIN

PAIN

Definition:

"First attested in English in 1297, the word peyn comes from the Old French peine, in turn from Latin poena meaning "punishment, penalty"(in L.L. also meaning "torment, hardship, suffering") and that from Greek ποινή (poine), generally meaning "price paid, penalty, punishment"."

Interesting. . .punishment is a theory for pain. At least in its origin of the word.

Certainly I'm not one to disagree, considering the life I've led and the sins I've committed in flagrante dilecto, or whatever. . .I deserve whatever comes my way, I suspect. God knows I've been flagrant in my "Dilectos" throughout my life! But at least, they've all been "delicious" in my flagrancy! (Pardon. . .)

I just don't want to have to deal with it, now that I'm older and have some more free time to "play" but can't because of that "pain" thing. . .And, besides, I've straightened up in so many ways. . .except for my back.

So now pain is an issue. And appears to be a MAJOR looming issue at my age, in my life. What to do?

So, I look up treatments for pain on Google. . .And here it comes. . .The list begins. . .

1. Exercise.

This is true. I go to the gym almost daily and it is my experience that stretching, exercising my Core and just getting my fat in gear helps me through the day! Pain in the ass it is but undeniably a good thing to do.  Damn! I'm lazy. Once a week ain't good enough! And that's the Truth!

2. Fish Oil.

Known for its anti-inflammatory properties, I can't tell you a thing about it. I just don't usually eat fish. "Don't know about it," if you catch me off-guard. . ."Fuck it," if you catch me just waking up. . ."Fish Oil Wackos" if you catch me in a bad mood. . .

3.Turmeric.

Often found in spicy foods, which I love, but when I read this, my response was, "??" And then, to myself, I said, "Bullshit" But my search for pain management has led me to extreme corners of rationality to control it. I just may wind up eating fish-smelling spicy bugs just to relieve my distress! All avenues are open! Honest! I can believe in spicy foods if I have to!

4. Reservatrol.

Found in red wine, grapes and berries, this just may be my treatment of choice. Though effective in trace elements, I find it particularly useful in massive doses of comatose-inducing dosages of multiple bottles at a time. There are residual side effects, however, like, waking up on the Ohio Turnpike with a strange woman at your side, handcuffed to the steering wheel, praying that she has the key to the cuffs and the key to the car. With its counter-intuitive side-effects, it's probably a chemical to be ingested less than that turmeric thing. . .Though, I'll admit to liking wine more than spicy foods. . .medicine is Hard, sometimes!!

5. Heat Therapy.

Now this is interesting! They say using heat and cold therapy are time honored ways to reduce inflammation. And, especially, just after an injury, ice is the preferred treatment to reduce inflammation. To which, I add my personal commentary: "Bullshit!" I HATE cold! Any Time! But they say if you have lingering back spasms, "suggesting a warm shower," perhaps with a warm body, (but that's just my additive. . .) but NEVER an Ice Pack! Boo!!

6. Meditation.

And this is my nemesis. It is an unmistakable fact that meditation works, according to the literature. But I have NEVER meditated that I know of, - Hell, I'm not sure I've ever had a thought! - and certainly not in public, and, if you ask me, I don't even know how! And that's the kicker! They say you don't have to know anything. Just meditate, thinking about anything, and the results are undeniable. . .You hurt less!! ??? What, I'll wake up and find I've soiled myself?? Lovely.

The last time they picked me up on the street uttering, "Ohmmm. . .Ohmmm,. . ." It cost me $4,000 and 12 months of probation to get it removed from my record! (See No. 4 above.) The cat STILL doesn't trust me completely. (My dog would, but he died. The Good Ones do.)

This (Meditation) is the area I have to explore! I can't drink more wine, I can't stand to eat more fish, I don't have time to go to the gym more than I do, and if I eat more spicy food, I'll have to invest in a steel toilet with my stomach, and I damn near fry my back every chance I get when I turn my car seats on "HEAT!". That means, I gotta meditate more!

"Mind over matter" is a secret that my cousin Joe (psychologist) told me about 30 years ago. And, damn!, he was right?!?! Where's his number? . . .

Owners Manual

I lost my Owner's Manual. You know, the one the hospital gives to your parents when you're born that spells out the rules for the operation of "Little Person." I, of course, have never seen it, but I know it exists because my parents quoted it to me all the time I was growing up. I never saw it but I KNOW my parents had one.

I asked my daughter, Bree, if I could see hers, and, of course, she denied ever having seen it, though I hear her quote from that booklet every time I'm with her and my granddaughter. It's real! I KNOW it!

Though, today, it must be in a different form. Sixty-six years ago, it was probably mimeographed, stapled in the top left corner, four inches thick, but, of course, it had to be really thick to cover all the phrases parents need to use to get through childhood.

Nowadays, I'm sure it's in micro print, and it's gotta be at least bilingual in Spanish and English, and, if anything like my computer handbooks, another 10 languages, including Portuguese, Urdu, Swahili, Japanese, what have you. And if you turn it upside down and read from the back, you have another 10 languages waiting for your enjoyment!

And probably it's written by the same Japanese guy that admitted taking 2 years of English in High School so he's assigned to writing the instructions for the darned thing so you get these impossible phrases like, "Once the baby has dropped from the blob above, you must invert and swat with force to accelerate the intake of air."

And when this poor Japanese guy submits his prose to his boss, his boss says, ,"OK, We'll insert some stupid stick figure drawing to illustrate something and make them think they're too stupid to understand simple English." And so they put in a random stick-figure series of pictures of some guy building a dog house. "There! That should quiet the sonsabitches!"

But today, it's gotta be in color, and accessible on-line We've all seen it, right?

My parents are gone now so I have no idea where they put that Manual. I'm sure it's in my "Stuff" somewhere. I've gathered my mother's things after she died, after she gathered my father's things after he died. And I've thrown very little away. (Much to my wife's frustration! Actually, I think that may be one of her "Anger Buttons.") But, still, I've not found that damned Manual!

But, when and if I do find it, I'm gonna page through it to the Index, first thing, and look up:

     Women     
          Troubleshooting . . .
                  Anger Buttons. . .

Not because I want to press them, but, rather, for the opposite reason. After all these years, I sorta know what I have to do to get those buttons pressed.

In the day-to-day living with a woman, you learn what you have to do to get things done, so I have "an Idea" of what I am doing to move things along.

But!, what I really want to know is where those damned "Anger Buttons" are so I don't press them by mistake. I honest to God have no idea what's going to set her off and I would really like to know where those damned buttons are so I can just stay away from them when I need to! Wouldn't that be convenient and, like, smart?!?!

I have this sneaky, and sinking, feeling that if I ever find my parents' Manual they got when I was born, that mimeographed Index page will be well-worn, dog-eared and that, supposedly random, stick-figure drawing of building a dog house was actually intentional. My dad died young And I think to myself. . .

All roads lead to dog houses. . .

Sigh. . .

Gnats! Everywhere, pesky GNATS!!

The creativity process is not an easy birthing. And, I guess, for you and me, I have absolutely NO time frame I'm under to produce something I would want you to read.

I have no editor, other than myself, and no advertisers clamoring for a "product." But, I do have "you." All of you. . .individually, meekly asking, "When are you going to write something?" "What's next?" "Think of anything, yet, you "DesertHead?" "I keep clicking on LongSeason and I get nothing. Did you pay your cable bill?"

And I find that charming, actually, and complimentary.

Except, one "push" I received was from a dear friend, who asked, "I hope you're not dying of anything sooner than you were expecting and that's why you're not writing. . ."

Um, and to that, I can honestly respond, "Nope! I'm dying right on time! Yup! Absolutely, I'm On Schedule!"

Shithead.

I was unhappy with LongSeason. Not for what it was, but for what it wasn't. It wasn't the literary gem I'd envisioned. I thought I could put out "Dave Barry" blurbs like rabbits produce turds. And I can't.

To be honest, it's HARD! To think of something that doesn't bore the hell outta me, and spend the time to "Hunt and Peck" my way through the thought to put it on the computer, and then, going beyond, what might not bore the hell outta you?! Well, It's hard. That's what I'll call it now. "Hard." At times it took on the "Impossible" moniker, but we'll let that alone.


Though, I think I've gotten better at it, but that's just because I've gotten more used to sitting by myself in my dark computer room with an LED lamp, by myself, with my pissed wife, in bed, waiting for me to, "Jesus, Get Creative, would you, and come to bed, you Idiot!!" It rolls off you after scores of nights of that noise. . .

My LongSeason will return, and perhaps will be indistinguishable from the prior one for you. But I can guarantee you, MY focus will be different.

My snag is deciding what "voice" I will want to use. And, in truth, I can't imagine one different from my own. But what to say?

Get into politics? Haha!! Not in my job! Nope! I can't Do That!

Get into psychological pain that family suffers from? Nope! I'm too ignorant to address THAT issue! (Though I'm studying the problem, trust me!)

"My" LongSeason will incubate a while longer. (For some, you may consider it "festering." ) Chris and Paul are still here. They can step up whenever they'd like, and NOW would be a good time for them to do so! (HINT, HINT!!)

"My" LongSeason will return, but I'm just not ready yet. . .

Shhhh!

Deliberately quiet for a reason. And none of your damned business why! . . .

Resurrection

And, Poof!. . .

Just like that, Long Season is dead. Love live LongSeason!

Remember, this exercise began as a gift from my son-in-law to me and his long-time childhood friend, Paul. Paul Salvatore, who has written, and PUBLISHED a wonderful fantasy, "Fountain's Edge." (Amazon, $2.99, kindle format as well as paper back! DEAL!)

The blog has moved on. Paul, actually, physically, is leaving the area to pursue new challenges and life with unknown mountains to climb. Beautiful wife, masterful medical skills, stone-cold rugged Italian good looks, and the mind of a arbitrage rep, he'll do well!!

While my son-in-law, Chris, remains here, with me, in Western Podunk, PA., facing his own wonderful professional high-tech challenges I'll never comprehend, with two of the bestest, most adorable children any human being could ask for and a beautiful wife I love possibly more than he does (?) Nah, I don't think so. . . (In comparison? Paul loses. Sorry Paul.)

Me? I stick around until somebody shakes my shoulder to tell me I'm drooling on my bib I put on two days ago because I was cold in a breeze somewhere I was, but I don't remember. . .But at least I remember I married the other most beautiful woman in the world, Chris' mother-in-law! Incest at its absolute Best!!

I didn't delete all my entries from LongSeason for the last three years, I just took them off "Published." You can't see them, but I can. They still exist. And may still form the basis for a book if/when I ever decide to spend time writing the way I should.

The entries from the last blog were not all garbage. They were raw and poignant and uncut. And true expositions of emotion and insight. Many (well, at least some) were masterpieces, in my mind, if I do say so. But LongSeason had become a kite with a tail 300 yards long. It didn't fly any more. The time had come to rework, refocus and maybe, think about what I wanted to do with the blog.

. . .Um, . . .I don't want to disappoint you, but I'm not getting any new inspiration here.

So, until I come up with a new direction for LongSeason, I just may try to upgrade my prose and perhaps make an effort to ascend to "literature" from "diary."

Hahaha!! I crack myself up, sometimes!! That was Great!! 

And Bullshit.

Welcome to LongSeason without the tail! I hope the journey is fun for you, too, as it will be for me!

And again, Thank You, Chris!

Life Is Coming At You! Now!

This post is different than what you're used to from me. This one is a missive of loss. My loss. Your loss. The loss of the ones we love. And our avoidable hurt in the process of dealing with the ebbing of life as our loved ones grow older.

One of my best friends lost her sister last week. And her sister, Jan, was one of the most dynamic, energetic, forceful individuals you could ever meet! Like my brother, Michael, once you met her, you NEVER forgot her!

And Jan died a horrible death from pancreatic cancer. A struggle for over a year, which, with THAT cancer was a Great Fight, well fought! And, still, a Horrible Loss. A horrible Death! And this post isn't even about the tragic loss of my friend's sister.

My attention turns to a 94-year old man who all his life has had the spunk of a young adult. He's had the love of a wife he's known since early youth and the pure joy of living a life well lived.

No, he hasn't died. At the age of 94, he has survived multiple heart bypasses, breast cancer!, (they removed half of his chest wall muscles for that!), and, oh, yes, he survived being a Marine Air Corps gunner/mechanic for us in World War II in the Pacific.

If you read my "Post-celebration" post, you know who I'm talking about. My wife's father-in-law, Jim's dad, my Walt, fell down last week and broke his hip at the age of 94.

He had been taking care of his loving bride of 70+ years who now suffers from dementia, she not quite knowing what's happening now, but she's now loving every minute she gets to spend with her great-grandchildren.

And now, with him undergoing a partial hip replacement last Thursday, the future looks a whole lot different from what was just a mere 5 days ago!

We never think of old age, it seems, until it smacks us across the face with our parents. And once we deal with them, we glide on blithely until we wreck on the rocky shores of Impending Death ourselves.

We never seem to grasp the fact that people who grow old don't just "Grow Old." We just don't seem to "get" that aging is not merely a pleasant waning of existence until we graciously fade from this world just before we avoid embarrassing our children.

Death is a wresting of Life from us as we know it! We all FIGHT for the flag we've held all these years and we just don't give it up! God comes and makes us FALL with maybe a broken hip, confining us to wheelchairs, nursing homes, "Rehab" centers! And then, when we run out of money, we STILL fight for every friggin' breath we can take! (Old people are Rude, like that!) And we humans insist on embarrassing ourselves, our families and our friends, because we Will Not Give Up, and certainly we don't give in just because it would be convenient to everybody else if we did! We Fight For Life, as if it's the only thing we need! . . .Because it is.

You cannot fight instinct. And we, like every other life form on the planet, live to survive! That's INSTINCT! Can't help it! Won't change it! So, DAMMIT, Family, DAMMIT Society, Deal With It!

What are we going to do with our old people who refuse to just die quietly, on time, hopefully in their isolated apartments when the time supposedly comes, and then, they just Don't?

Hospice is a step in the right direction, of course. But how do we cope with the money challenges? Who pays for quality care? Gutters don't cost a lot, but that's embarrassing to those of us who have to watch our family die in those gutters as we step over them on our way to the theatre in our best-dressed clothes. But not embarrassing enough to pay our entire life's income to get them out of the gutters! We'll cling to the "American Credo" of "Buck yourselves Up, You Old Farts!" And why, in the richest country on earth, do we have the most inefficient system of administering quality health care on every level, from newborns to geriatrics?

Are we so avariciously greedy throughout our lives to not pay attention to the quality of life we want to live?

Well, of course, we are. And I don't have to give us all a "tsk-tsk." for that. Our end of life experiences will do that for me. I'm just asking you to look at that Freight Train coming at us. It may be a long way off, but you can see it now and it's moving pretty damned fast. And it will be here before you're ready for it.

Trust me on this.

It's way past time for the United States to get our medical affairs in order. We, the "richest" country on earth, have to figure out (or just look at) how every other civilized nation has come to grips with health care and do it as cheaply as everybody else does, and just Do The Right Thing! Our old people are dying in their apartments from starvation, neglect, cold, and just loneliness!!

SHAME ON US!!

It shouldn't be political! It should be Ethical! Humane!

What the Hell is wrong with us?!?! It's so simple, we should just do it. It's been done, already, but, no, we have to fight the repeals. . . .AARRGGHH!!

Shame on us.