It’s that time again

It’s that time again. This is just way too much stuff up in my brain and if I don’t open the release valve and let some out, I’m going to end up with a massive headache.

Speaking of headaches, does anyone else remember the Excedrin Headache Number ___ commercials. I was hoping to find a list of them. I don’t know why, but I was, and I can’t. I did find some of the commercials though. Excedrin headache #20- the new secretary, #24- what’s for dinner, #39- shopping for shoes, and #44- driving home. If anyone knows of others, please let me know too. They were the kind of low-key comedy we can use today.

Not at all comedic, I wonder what’s the remedy for headache #AK47. Oh wait. I know. Thoughts and prayers. In case you missed it, after the 14 year old shot 4 people in school in Georgia that everyone was talking about, 2 days later in Maryland a 16 year old shot a 15 year old in a high school bathroom, then the day after that a fine defender of the Second Amendment brought a new definition to the term ‘road rage’ when he randomly shot at passing cars on a Kentucky highway.

Something else not comedic, merely desperate and a grave sign of insecurity, when did it become the new macho standard for men to wear black wedding bands? News flash– they look even more stupid than a shaved head combined with a full beard.

On a lighter note, remember when I was bemoaning the loss of color in modern automobiles. Just yesterday morning there was a pretty, light blue car that pulled up in front of my house. It was such a refreshing sight. And I thought a welcome sight too. Maybe I was getting company! But no, they were there to visit the folks next door. [Sigh]

Speaking of cars, I saw a video last week of a guy showing off the new to him 30 year old roadster. Being an owner of 25 year old roadster it was up my alley, or driveway. He happened to mention some of the more atypical factory options the car included and mentioned the original owner “ticked the box off on that on the options sheet.” That brought back an old memory – ordering a car. Did you ever order a car from the factory? Let me know. I’ve bought new cars, I’ve bought old cars. Once, I actually ordered a car. Went into the dealership and sat down with a sales person and an option sheet and actually ordered the very car I wanted. I remember what it was but not when. A black on black Buick Riviera T-Type. I think 1982 but it could have been 1984. I ordered it but never got it. The order went in 2 days before the auto workers staged a strike against GM and that was the end of that.

Football season is here. Also yesterday, shortly before noon the neighborhood was filled with the sounds of life. People out for walks, lawnmowers whirring, backyard chatter, the occasional passing car. At 1:00pm, Eastern Time, aka KICKOFF TIME! all activity ceased. There may have been cheers raised, calls debated, and chips crunched, but if those were happening, they were happening behind closed doors in front of newly purchased from last week’s Labor Day sales big big big(!) screen TVs.

Tomorrow night is the Presidential debate and that is when people should be hunkered down in front of the television and for most of the last 15 elections (if we want to consider 1960 as the opening of the debate generation) most people would be. They seem someone unnecessary now the for the last two election cycles, one of the debaters has decided to not encumber himself with the truth. And still some people are brain dead enough to actually consider it for president. [Shudder]

I feel better now and we now return you to your regularly scheduled headache.


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We have a choice every day. Do we make it fun or will it be dreadful? Death is tragic often enough. Don’t make life tragic also. Read our take on that at Each Day a Bonus, the latest Uplift blog at ROAMcare.



Why I hate Twitter and other things that annoyed me this week

Greetings fellow blog warriors. Worriers? Whichever. I had not planned a brain dump so close to the last one, but the pool is rising, and I must open the valves.

I am certain that I’ve mentioned this before, but I might have merely thought I had because it is a thought I think often and to be honest about it, as a thought it is pretty petty. And isn’t it something than pretty and petty by themselves conjure up such different emotions yet the only difference between the two is a lower case “r” and even that is one of the least interesting letters we have. English has so many words in it and they all come from different language sources, except for the ones that some social nitwits couldn’t find the right emotion to convey with 170,000 and some words we already have so they invent more like “talmbout” which according to dictionary.com is a shorthand version of “to talk about” and their example is “There’s a bear outside? What you talmbout?” (Personally, my favorite new word is “tifo” as “fevered impassioned support” of something, drawn from the Italian word for typhus. Yes, it started with soccer fans. How’d you guess?) Now where the aich ee double toothpicks was I? Oh right, uninteresting letters. With all those words from all those root languages, where are all the diacritical marks. [Sigh] Anyway, I was about to bring up something pretty petty.

I’m sure many of you know that I’ve had my lifetime of medical and physical challenges. One remaining idiot-synchronicity is a tendency to fall over at inopportune times, not that there are many opportune times to fall over. As a result, I always walk with a cane although I don’t always really need it. If I was able to tell when, then they wouldn’t be inopportune. Anyway, I also have a handicap placard that I sometimes take advantage of when I’ve been out for a particularly long time, or when I may be particularly tired and at a greater risk of imbalance and plopping. (Now there’s a good word I pulled out of the seldom used but perfectly acceptable section of the dictionary. You didn’t see me make up a new word for inopportune falling.)

The other day was one of those days and I had one more stop to make before I headed home. I pulled into the parking lot of approximately 24,000 spaces, about a couple of dozen or so signed pregnant women and new mothers (I never understood why not one for new fathers shopping with children, not that it matters to me because when I was a new father, there were no such spaces for either parent), two for veterans, and all of 6 handicap spots.  Technically I am entitled to a veteran space also, but I always feel I should leave those to the older veteran who now has to fend for himself or herself, and quite often forget that I am that older veteran fending for myself. But still, I stay out of them.

That day all 6 of the handicap spaces were taken, which is fine because we all need to accept what life hands out, right? But of those 6, two were occupied by vehicles (not cars, but my favorite rant-able vehicle (pronounced vee-hick-ul) that requires a step stool to climb into. That in itself irks me. If you can climb into a lifted Hummeresque veehickul, you aren’t handicapped. Least not physically. But these two were occupied by two youngish sorts, the types who don’t make up new words because they already know the basic top ten (I’ll have a beer. Where’s the freaking john? Yo babe!), idling their monster trucks, with handicap placards vibrating on the dashboards. Why were they there? They drove Grammy to the store and used her card to “park” in the designated spot while the dear old lady goes in and does all her own shopping. I know. I’ve asked. (Yes, I can exhibit a frightening lack of judgement when I get tired and cranky.)

Anyway, I find it irksome when people are parked in a handicap spot that aren’t parked. Drop Meemaw off at the door, and go park in front of the beer distributor. Or better still, park in her spot and go in with her and help her, you useless twit! (Another perfectly good word you just don’t hear any more)

Moving on to number two of this week’s annoyances is one that actually wasn’t annoying at all. In fact, it was funny as all get out. (No? Yes! Oh, get out of here! No, you get out of here!) Just yesterday my daughter and I were brunching together and complaining about our watches, specifically our Apple Watches, and specifically specifically the fitness app thereon. Our conversation centered around the seeming haphazard accounting of calories and active time. “I can go up and down two flights of steps carrying laundry both ways and got nothing. But sit on the floor with my head in the oven, cleaning of course, and it racks up the calories burned like I was running a marathon, which, by the way, when I did this year, I swear it counted only the first 4 miles.” Clearly that was my daughter’s contribution to the rant because I haven’t attempted any distance running for about 30 years. And to be fair, all fitness watches and bracelets and rings have their foibles (another underused word), but Apple turned it into a game with their darned fitness rings. Gotta close those rings every day. As my daughter put it, we’re the human equivalent of a Tamagotchi doll. And darned if she wasn’t right!

And what was the other. Oh yeah, Twitter. Elon sucks.

I’m sure now by next Monday I’ll be able to put together a proper post for you all. Have a good week!


When a child’s first toy is a kid-size tablet, we shouldn’t be surprised some basic life skills will be a struggle. But as we said in the most recent Uplift, if we keep our minds sharp, we can still allow computers to do the heavy mental lifting of the everyday without losing our grip on the basic. Read about it in “If you give a teen a penny.”


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A rose by another name

Last week I poked fun at “man fashion.” It’s only fair the women now get their turn. Specifically, inked up women. Full disclosure, I am not a tattoo person. Quite like golf, I know I am a minor minority in that regard, but I just don’t get the point. Specifically in women. Especially beautiful, well put together women. Which is like 99.7% of them. All women are beautiful, except the tattooed ladies. So the percentage of beautiful, well put together women is dropping but that’s life.

Before I get into the meat and potatoes of this post, a work of advice to the tatted up broads, career advice. If you are in a field where you handle food or drugs, please don’t tattoo the back of your hand. In the last week I had a server set a plate in front of me with a hand on which she had a spider inked onto the back. And the cashier at the pharmacy handed me my prescription with her hand adorned with skull and crossbones. Can I just say, “Blech!”

Also in the last week I was at the service center customer waiting lounge at the car dealer. Yes, I was just there a few weeks ago.  Different car. I took a seat by the coffee pot because my knee was bothering me, and I didn’t want to walk very far several times an hour. A young lady walked up to the machine and admittedly, I stared. She was a very good-looking lady. Mind you, I have never been one of the crowd that says, ladies, if you don’t want to be looked at, don’t make yourself so look-able. But she was definitely look-able. And she sported ink.

So many people getting tattooed pick designs that mean something to them. Recently there had been a trend, especially among women, to cut through all the representation art and just put out there what they want to say with words, so now catchy phrases and famous quotes are appearing on human canvases. This lady at the coffee machine had taken that route and had words tattoos on the side of her foot, which was wearing a sandal, those exposing nearly all of the letters that made up all of the words. I had to stare so I could figure out what it said! She was not only look-able, she also had a sense of witty humor for on her foot she had emblazoned, “Put your best foot forward.” I kind of liked that. I wasn’t liking that she huffed and puffed at me about being some sort of foot pervert and to stop staring at her.

I remembered that advice later that same day when I was in the checkout line in the nearby Walmart, a place not known for instilling conservative dress and appearance in its customers. A lady in front of me was as look-able as the coffee machine lady, but for completely different reason. She also appeared well endowed with natural beauty, had well cared for hair and manicure. She seemed every bit a lady except that she was wearing basically swimwear and had a tattoo. Not a single phrase on the side of her foot, but a 2 or 3 inch wide thorny stem wrapping around her leg until it disappeared in her short, short bottoms and then reappeared wrapped around her exposed midriff and then ducking out of sight again under the bottom of her rather brief top. It did not continue up from the top of the top, but rather did a rose appear within her cleavage. Just a single rose although the corporeal vase easily could have held a dozen. Long stems and all.

But I didn’t stare. I’m not sure if I had if it would have bothered her much. I noticed she paid cash for the television and sound bar she was purchasing. I started staring as she carefully counted out her payment in one dollar bills.


Last week we celebrated “Start Over Day,” a day set aside to try again to master that which disappointed you the first time around. Learn from that disappointing experience and start over to make it better. We write how it can be the beginning of a new adventure in the most recent Uplift, Try, Try Again.


A hair-raising tale

I’m worried about humanity. Every day I see something more and more stupid than the day before. I don’t think we have a chance. You know what? I misspoke. Or mistyped. Not humanity. Humanity might be getting more stupid every day too, but I really mean men. If men had to promulgate the species by themselves, we’d still be in the Dark Ages. And probably in the dark as well. Especially if those men are, as almost all men will be sometime, starting to thin a little up at the hairline.

Oh my Heavens, you would think the world is coming to an end. As soon as it seems there is just a little creep backwards in the hairline, all aich, ee, double hockey sticks breaks out. “Frick! My hair is falling out! I’m not a man anymore!!” So genius that he is, he shaves his head. “Now it will look like a fashion statement, not that I’m bald.” Yeah, right.

But then, genius that he is, he knows how to use a computer and discovers testosterone is necessary for hair growth. Naturally he makes the connection, no hair means he has no testosterone. No testosterone means he only has his oversized red pick-up truck to prove he’s a man and he can’t take that to bed with him. What will he do?

Now this idiot remembers elementary school math and knows that 2 plus 2 equals something, so he adds them up and comes up with a solution. If he has to have hair to pick up women, then by gosh, he’ll grow some hair. But his head is off limits because he just spent a bazillion dollars on a fancy 17 head rotary razor designed especially for thinning and balding men to recapture their outer beauty by mowing away whatever hair might be left growing out of the top of his head. Next best thing to head hair? That’s right — facial hair! So he grows a beard. And not a sophisticated, well-groomed, trim offering like the debonair George Clooney. Oh no. He does the full on, don’t come near me with a pair of manicure scissors, scraggly, end of the world, manly man’s beard like ZZ and his friend, Top.  

Oddly, he still can’t pick up women, so since he is a genius, his first thought is that his truck isn’t big enough. A reasonable assumption. Everyone knows the larger the truck the more manly the man. Ask any used car dealer. So he goes all out, gets an even bigger, even redder, this time diesel pickup with bigger and shinier wheels and tires too. And takes the mufflers off to make certain his is noticed and not overlooked for some weeny in a Tesla. And he still goes home alone after spending all night at the bar. Now what’s the problem?

When he gets home he looks at himself in the mirror and decides he’d sleep with him if he had a chance. But even genius lunatic that he is, he sees something just doesn’t look right with a ZZ Top beard below a cue ball head. How can we fix that? Right! Get a hat! So the hext day he heads out to the fashion capital of the world, Walmart, and gets a hat. He’d like one with a pick-up on the front so he can double up on his manly man ride, but all he can find is one with a tractor on the front and a bull saying “Who farted?” and buys 3 of them so he’ll never run out. Remember, we are dealing with genius.

So now he has his manly man hat covering up his manly man bald shaved head above his manly man beard and he hops into his manly man truck and scoots on down to the local dive bar looking for a woman who can’t wait to be in the arms of a true manly manly man.

Just one problem. If he should find a female looney enough to match on him, he will have found her thus attired which means he can never ever never remove his hat except to shave his head, so he now goes through life with a hat on his head (a hat that says, “who farted?”) everywhere he goes, including out to fancy dinners, church and school functions, shopping, doctor appointments, job interviews, even when he goes to have his manly man truck cleaned up and made shinier where he can sit in the waiting room and share his manly man wisdom.

So if you ever run across a guy who looks like ZZ Top with a hat on climbing down out of big red manly man pickup truck, don’t try to pick him up. He’s taken. Mostly with himself.   


It makes sense that governments can’t take time to regulate everything in life, thus the unwritten law. But which is more powerful – the unwritten rule, or the desire to pursue life, full steam ahead?



Things people didn’t say

I’ve spent much of the last week out, in public even! A variety of appointments and a need to replenish my gas tanks and cupboards has had me at more offices, stores, and service centers than usual (and even some fast food drive thru lanes and coffee shops). And all of them presented some great opportunities to make us aware of some things that desperately need said.

Before I start down the path from which they may be no return, here is something I never hear anybody say and you all really should be saying. “Let’s see what’s happening on the Blessitude Instagram page.” Blessitude is run by a most dear friend of mine who since January of 2019 has been posting images of hearts out in the world, proof that we are precious and loved. She describes Blessitude as the art of being gratefully blessed. Her photography is as special as the imagines she captures. There’s nothing for sale, nothing being asked for. It’s just a place to see His beauty that surrounds us, the precious and the loved. Here are a couple samples of her latest finds.

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Now, on with the rant, errr I mean discussion. Actually not so much a discussion, just the thoughts you know these people are thinking and would probably show up in a little balloon above their heads if they were in the comics section – where some certainly belong!

  • “Do you think it’s a good idea to wear a nose ring, especially one that looks like it was last used by a large bull, while I wait on tables?”
  • “Yes, the ad says buy three tires, get one free, and that’s why we have to charge you $75 for the valve stem for each wheel and naturally if we put that in the ad too, you’d realize you just paid $300 for that free $250 tire. Did we also mention balancing is extra?”
  • “Thank you for filling out this 8 page questionnaire. If you have a seat someone will take you to another room and ask you all the same questions.”

The above on the way in, the below on the way out.

“And here’s your reminder card for your next appointment. Don’t worry about getting here on time let alone the fifteen minutes early like that card says as the doctor is always running late. Next time ask for the first appointment of the day. That one he’s at least ha a shot of getting close to.”

  • “Of course there’s a lot more ice cream in the back, and probably even the flavor you want. Come back tomorrow when it’s not on sale. We’ll have it out then.”
  • “Please don’t try to confuse me giving me 8 dollar bills and two pennies to pay $7.27. If I knew math I’d have been an engineer like my mother wanted me to. Besides, it gives me a headache.”
  • “I really should stockpile some generic posts for when life gets busy because of a variety of appointments and a need to replenish my gas tanks and cupboards that had me at more offices, stores, and service centers than usual”

You know something else people say but don’t say often enough. “Hi. How are you. Nice day, Isn’t it?” We talk about how kindness counts, that it is a natural part of living, never out of place, and should be a habit, not just some random act, in the latest Uplift!  We write them to take only 3 or 4 minutes to read so there’s always time for an uplifting message. Nothing for sale there. Just some motivation to help you  through your day.


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I had a very busy month the last couple of weeks. Yes, you read that right. I had more things going on in April than there were days in April! Some of them resulted in more than a few hilarious moments and were more than blog-worthy. Somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to write about any of them.

Last week there was an unsettling piece in the local news.  Four and a half years almost to the day after the Tree of Life shootings added Pittsburgh the list of cities that had hosted mass shootings, jury selection finally began for the trial of the man seen on camera, walking into a local synagogue and shooting 13 people, 11 fatally, while they were attending Saturday morning services. Four and a half years those families had to watch other families of victims of violence find some solace and maybe even some closure from crimes that happens years after the massacre that took their loved ones. Are we so jaded by killing we can take our good old time seeking justice?

During those 4-1/2 years over 1,900 mass shootings have happened in the US (I’m using the definition of mass shooting is one where 4 people excluding the shooter are killed or injured in a single incident.), 53 in April. Perhaps the most heinous was one of the most recent occurring on April 29 when 5 people were killed after asking a neighbor to stop shooting his gun in the front yard in Cleveland, Texas.

After each of the 1,940 mass shootings in the last 4-1/2 years, calls for gun control have been made and successfully opposed in the name if the Second Amendment. You remember that one.

A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.

Some day, somebody from the NRA can tell me how killing 5 of your neighbors because they asked for some quiet, or killing 11 of them while they worshipped their God, is “necessary to the security of a free State.”

I’ll try to find some hilarious anecdotes for next week.


Too often we are defined by the work we do. Is that because we surround ourselves with work friends? We owe to ourselves and our closest contacts to see that our “loved ones” truly are our loved ones. In the most recent Uplift! we talk about why.


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Two Rights Make a Wrong

Quite some time ago, actually nearly 4 years ago I wrote of the madman who gunned down 13 worshippers in a Pittsburgh synagogue. I don’t recall how many rounds he fired from his assault weapon that he had the right to bear but it was enough that eleven of the thirteen were perforated sufficiently to die quite dead before help arrived. He who did the shooting has yet to come to trial. Those that know are saying a trial might begin in the spring of 2023. He has been exercising his rights to challenging this or that or asking for certain reviews and considerations. At the time there was much support for the victims and their families and much publicity of the public support for the victims. No different than at any of the mass shootings periodically experience. We say we hate hate and we hate haters, then a week later the local football team wins or loses and something takes over the headlines and we forgot what we were supposed to hate. Among the talk of hating haters, very little talk of love is mentioned. It was when I published that post was that I added this picture to my blog’s footer. (I don’t know how many scroll down that far to see it and if you read this in your email or your WordPress reader, you’d never even know it was there.)  

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But this post isn’t about the insanity of mass killings, the insanity of the right to bear arms, the insanity of the legal system. It’s not even about the sanity of what loving your neighbor might do to combat the insanity of hating everybody instead. No, this post is about the insanity of the average Joe (or Jo) of expecting our “rights” to be always right.

Following the death of Queen Elizabeth II, a particular Tweet was published expressing the Tweeter’s remorse at not knowing the Queen was ill or the Tweeter would have wished her a long, painful, and tortuous road to death. It seemed cruel that someone would say so, but right or not, it is her right to say as she wishes. It also seemed inflammatory so the monitors at Twitter removed it. Within a few hours, hundreds or Tweets were published, and petitions filed supporting the Tweet and the Tweeter and condemning Twitter for removing the message. But here again, right or not, it was Twitter’s right. (Before anybody jumps on the “what about free speech” bandwagon, know that all those rights in the Bill of same are guaranteed from meddling by the government. Private parties, whether individual or corporate all have the same rights.)

This week is Banned Books Week in the USA. Each year the American Library Association celebrates the right to free expression and and directs attention to that right by challenging the parents and politicians who challenge certain publications as having no moral value and as such should be removed from libraries, schools, or anywhere children might be exposed to questionable content. A “top ten” list of of the most challenged pieces is compiled each year and published on their website. What is interesting is that many of the books are non-fiction. I’m not certain how somebody challenges the propriety of something that just is, but that is their right to question and ask for something to be taken out of the schools, just as it is the right of those who develop syllabi to use their education and experience to prepare their lesson plans and those charged with maintaining libraries to select writings from all diverse sources.

In 7 weeks, Americans will march to the polls to cast their votes for 36 governors, 33 senators, and all of the members of the House of Representatives, along with a variety of state, county, and local offices. It’s hard to tell opponents from their ads. Regardless of party, the advertising party is for the “hardworking people” and the opposition is “too radical,” “too extreme,’ or both. How is it that both sides can be right. They can’t, but the both have the right to say what they will, and others have the right to challenge them.

Rights are funny things. Somewhere along the way, in the effort to satisfy everybody, what is right seems to have gotten lost in defending the Bill of Rights. Or maybe the capitalization should be the other way. Maybe what is Right is more important that what rights are guaranteed. Can’t decide which right is right? Take a look at the bottom of my posts. Maybe the answer is there.



Our differences make us great; appreciating the differences makes us awesome! Read how we relish in what brings us joy and find your happy place cuz at ROAMcare.org.


 

Fourth (million) and ten

I can’t help it. It’s been too long. I am going there. I have to do it. It’s time to fuel the fire. So let’s open the controversy right now. I don’t like football.

There, I said it. I don’t like football.

I don’t see the point. There’s no real skill involved, no sort of strategy, and it’s so boring! They budget 3-1/2 hours of TV time to play a 60 minute game, that has a total of maybe 8-10 minutes of action. Bowling has more action. Even golf has more action and I think that’s a waste masquerading as sport also.

But boy people go nuts for that “game.” Billions of dollars change hands every year because of it. According the BetMGM the average team salary of just the players is over $188 million. The minimum salary per player for 2022 is $705,000.  Let than sink in. Everybody out there who will make that much this year, please raise your hand. Anybody? No? Okay, how about this.  That $705,000 is $45,000 more than last year’s minimum salary. Who out there got a $45,000 raise this year for being the lowest paid employee? Hmm. How about, how many of you make $45,000 a year. Ah, finally, I see some hands.  NFL practice squad players earn a minimum of $11,500 per week, which comes to $207,000 for 18 weeks of work. These are the guys the teams use to play act as the opposing team during practices and possibly develop into “full time” team members. Think of them as football interns.

Of course, players aren’t the only ones on the field during a game. Also roaming around between the goal posts are the 8 referees officiating each game (technically 1 referee, 1 umpire, 5 judges and 1 replay official). They make an average of $205,000 per year. And we won’t even talk about the coaches. (But the lowest paid NFL head coach will make $3 million, but I don’t want to talk about it.)   

Enough about what people make playing the game. What about what people make playing on the game. ESPN estimates over 45.5 million people will bet more than $12 billion this year. The teams will split about $270 million of that.

And then there are some people who actually go to the games. They will spend about $10 million for tickets which represent only 1.25% of a team’s revenue. Three billion dollars will be spent on NFL merchandise, 2/3 of that on jerseys. It seems you aren’t allowed into a stadium without wearing a replica jersey. In case the team needs an emergency fill in? 

You might think I am bitter about how much money is generated by a group of people who were not finalists in their high schools “most likely to succeed” voting nor had to worry about which way to flip their mortarboard tassels. (If you understood that reference you probably aren’t an NFL football player.) No, I just can’t figure out how football became the American National Religion. Twenty-two men squat across from each other over a not round ball, officially a “prolate spheroid” (seriously – look it up), and after a series of grunts, they hurl themselves into each other with much banging and clanging of protective equipment. After everyone falls down, they pick themselves up, congratulate themselves on a fine display of testosterone, mill about for a while, then line up and do it again.

Twenty-one million TV viewers tuned into the NFL opener between Buffalo and Los Angeles last Thursday. That’s down from the 25 million who watched last year’s opening game. Hmm. I wonder. Maybe those 4 million people who have seen the light.

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What we do today is because of the encouragement of those who came before us. The generations following us are built on what we share with them – facts and visions. Where will your visions of today fit into the world of tomorrow? Read a tale of encouraging visions at http://www.ROAMcare.org. It will be worth the few minutes.  


 

A well regulated argument

I had a hard time debating with myself if I wanted to post this or not. It’s a topic that gets beaten to death so often you’d think it would be reasonable enough and just die but then, it’s not a reasonable topic. I also thought about putting out a “special” post last Friday because it was Gun Violence Awareness Day. But then I thought, the last thing you needed was me throwing in a nickel’s worth of my two cents on that day.

There is no doubt there is gun violence all over the place. Every week brings new mass shootings to the national news and local newscasts are filled with stories of shootings every day. In my greater metro area, between Friday and Sunday of this past weekend, four people lost their lives to gun violence and several others injured. There have been less than a handful of days a shooting hadn’t been reported here since a local mass shooting at an AirBnB party the night before Easter, including one when the victim was a one year old sitting in the back of a car targeted in a drive by shooting. If you’re not aware of the gun violence in the United States, then you’re really too stupid to be reading this.

So let’s summarize, all the people who think the Second Amendment gives you the right to own a gun, you’re wrong.

“A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.”

That was, is, and forever will be until its repeal, all the Second Amendment says. Nobody can deny you the possession of a weapon used to defend the STATE (i.e. the USA) if done so needed as a part of a REGULATED military effort). Considering we have a perfectly acceptable armed forces system now that was not in place in 1789, there is no longer a reason to guarantee anybody to right to maintain a weapon. But even if there was, the right is only protected when used to defend the country. Not to hunt, not to target shoot, not to defend oneself, not to forget you have it in your carryon bag at the airport, not to settle suburban hedge trimming disputes, and not to commit mass, or even single murder.

I am nothing if I cannot look at both sides, so let’s look. Gun control advocates point to the numbers, the most often quoted is that in the U. S. of A. in 2020, there were 45,222 gun related deaths (I don’t know why but that’s the last year the total is available). Gun advocates will say, “Woah, woah, woah. Over half of those were suicides.” And they are right. Fifty-four percent of the 45,000+ deaths, or about 24,000 were suicides. They don’t mention, but I will, that 2% (a little over 900). That leaves 43% or 19,455 people intentionally killed by another American presumably exercising his or her right to own a gun as part of a regulated militia to protect the country. That is over 19,000 people who were victims of gun violence.

The gun advocate will say that of those 45,222, almost 25,000 people were going to die anyway. (Maybe, maybe not, but let’s stick with saving the 19,000 for now.)  How does that compare. Forget deaths due to cancer, heart disease, train derailments, bad lettuce, or anything else not gun related. Let’s compare that to those who are participating in protecting the country in the modern well-regulated armed forces system. And let’s not just look at 2020. Let’s look at the entire twenty-first century to date. So far, in all armed conflicts since 2001, there have been 7,075 fatalities, about an average of 36 per year. That’s 18,964 LESS deaths due to defending the state in a well regulated military than deaths due to gun violence. Per year.

I could stop there but somebody is going to say, “But I just use my gun for hunting or target shooter or protecting my family. Not to randomly shoot somebody.” First, let’s ignore the protect your family argument because if you have a gun for protection and you are not planning on shooting somebody if you need protecting, then why do you have it? Then for the hunters and sportsmen (sportspeople?), you don’t need an assault rifle to shoot a deer, nor a 60 or 100 shot magazine to fire 20 times at a paper target. And really, you don’t need any ammunition at all until you’re ready to hunt or competitively shoot. I recall reading an argument to not regulate guns but, given that the Second Amendment is quiet on what you load into those arms, to ban ammunition. Maybe not such a horrible idea.

Consider this. For years, I shot skeet recreationally. (I’m not sure why because you just can’t make a good meal out of them, but even so … anyway) Every Sunday afternoon I could be found at the rod and gun club blasting clay pigeons into oblivion. I travelled to and from the club with my unloaded shot gun and at the club bought only the amount of ammunition I would use for the afternoon’s festivities and then go home with an unloaded shotgun. They say never to store you gun and ammunition in the same place. Mine were separated by about 15 miles. I’d call that safe and responsible.

It always amazes me when people toss around the word “Right” in their argument for … well, for anything. Gun rights, women’s rights, students’ rights, union rights … like they have a right to do whatever they please and find somewhere in the Constitution to defend it. And there are a lot of guaranteed rights in the US Constitution. But in each case there are also qualifiers and limitations. Rights are guaranteed. Unregulated license is not.  We are a nation obsessed with the Rights without bearing the Responsibilities.

Now I’m not going to say we should or should not repeat the Second Amendment, although I will say before anybody tries to use the Second Amendment as a justification for killing 19,000 people this year, they really need to see a good psychiatrist.

Sorry, no cute picture for this post. I couldn’t seem to put one together to celebrate so much death.

The pursuit of clean, filtered air

I saw an interesting Tweet yesterday. “Going to the US in just a couple days. Planning to wear a mask whenever I’m in public. Looking for fun and creative (preferably not too political) reasons to give in case anyone asks why I’m wearing one.“

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The Tweeter(?) obviouslly lives outside the United States and wants to protect herself against a virus that is still raging, even though less actively than a few weeks ago, while visiting a country with a COVID death rate twice the rest of the world’s – and 82 times higher than her country! (WorldOMeter, “COVID Live – Coronavirus Statistics,” March 9, 2022)  According to a New York Times analysis of mortality, since the first Omicron case was reported in the United States in December 2021, Americans have been killed by the coronavirus at a rate at least 63 percent higher than other large, wealthy nations and was averaging about 2,500 deaths per day. (New York Times, “U.S. Has Far Higher Covid Death Rate Than Other Wealthy Countries.” Feb 1, 2022) The report went on to state that the only European countries with higher death rates are Russia, Ukraine, Poland, Greece, and the Czech Republic.

Oddly enough, even though the CDC changed their masking recommendations this month, the federal vaccine mandate was never enforced and now seems to be headed for reversal by the courts, and most limitations on businesses have been removed, people still want to protest them.  Brian Brase, the organizer of the so-called People’s Convoy that just burned countless gallons of gasoline and diesel circling Washington, DC, has called mandates an “infringement on their freedoms” as recently as this week. (Washington Post, “‘People’s Convoy’ organizers meet with GOP lawmakers amid pandemic-related demonstrations,” Mar 8, 2022).

You know that I recently was hospitalized with COVID pneumonia in spite of vaccines and mitigation (TRYing to stay 6 feet away from unmasked miscreants sneezing their offensive germs into public spaces like grocery stores and churches). I empathize with our aforementioned Tweeter because I will be going out in public still masked and standing a safe distance from those who aren’t. What should I say to them? Clearly somebody with more pickup truck parts than brains will come up to me and say, quite politely I’m sure, “What’s the f**k wrong with you, you retard? Act like an American and take that f**king mask off, a$$ho*e!” How do I know? Because it’s already happened, and it happened before the CDC issued new guidance. Months before the recent new guidance was released (which really requires people to have an understanding of the surge of cases in their particularly are and the relative burden placed on the local health care systems (read, too difficult for your average simian to even say, yet understand so let’s just concentrate on the no masks part)), the CDC guidelines recommended that those who were fully vaccinated, may attend small indoor gatherings with other fully vaccinated individuals without masking. This was interpreted as “you don’t need to wear no more masks any more yippee yahoo but let’s keep protesting masks anyway” by the under 65 (as in IQ score) crowd. And yes, I had been approached by inquiring sorts of that ilk, while in public with my mouth and nose stylishly clad in the latest surgical garb as to why I was wearing a mask. “Don’t you believe in science?”

Considering how adamant so many non-maskers were in demanding understanding on their positions and their rights to their freedom to breath the air as it was intended, I hope they will also understand why those of us who are medically challenged, immunocompromised, or just plain leery that a long term accord has been reached between the United States of America and SARS-COV-2, elect to exercise our rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of breathing clean, filtered air.

And while we at it, it seems to me that those still calling masks, vaccines, and other life-saving measures “infringements on their freedoms,” need to spend some time in the Ukraine right now.