I am often asked--that is, if by "often" you mean "seldom"--what's it like being you? The answer is that it really isn't as bad as all that. Matter of fact, most days glow like radioactive fallout, only healthier.
I rise, as do most of you, although not in any messianic sense, at least in my case, between six and seven in the morning. Contrary to popular observation, I work like a maniac all day, although much of this work comes in spurts. I assist the long-suffering and beautiful roommate Lisa Ann to prepare for her adventurous day, which I rather enjoy. She's up before me, often staring at the TV while thinking about the horrors that face a woman who has to drive virtually halfway across town just to make a moderately honest living. She usually is drinking the leftovers of the previous day's coffee, so I make a fresh pot and scatter my essence throughout the house, trying to move things out of her way without being too obvious about it. She is one of the hardest-working people I've ever known and that's a fact, Jack. Anyone who has her for an employee is doing well for themselves.
When she takes off for work I turn on the computer and begin knocking out the day's blog. Often that entails reading a few dozen websites to get some sense as to the day's events, typically of a political or artistic nature. I may watch a film on Netflix to get a sense as to what was happening during the 1970s.
I spend a bit of time every day thinking about some of the great people I know, wondering how they're doing. Which great people? Well, there's Ruth Ann, Tammy, Paula, Marybell, Regenia, Dee, DeeAnn, Joyce, Jennifer, Paul, Greg, Marcia, Cathy, Tim, Alan, Warren, the whole gang. Oh, and there's YOU as well. How could I forget?
I lift a few weights and I eat some fruit and eggs for breakfast. I can cook, no matter what you may have heard.
I review the statistics on the previous day's advertising successes and failures. I do not especially enjoy doing that. On the other hand, it does interest me a little. It is one of the ways I measure the success of this project you are reading.
Another measure, of course, comes from the correspondence. I answer every email, comment post, or other correspondence because I appreciate the fact that someone took the time and had the initiative. Often the remarks are quite helpful, particularly when someone is outraged at some stupid opinion of mine.
I've also found that I spend far too much time in mindless flirting, but that's another story. Although I should say thanks to Sinead.
I shower around noon, much to the delight of anyone who gets near me afterwards. By that time I have some idea as to the success or failure of the recently-posted blog. As you can tell, the blog issue is paramount, or at least united artists. Maybe Lion's Gate.
One of the other things that consumes my time is a matter that I genuinely dislike and that is one of politics. Politics is one of the well-known drags of our age. The problem I have with the subject is that we are led to believe that choices exist when they actually do not. When I was a kid I learned that one of the things that was objectionable about the Soviet Union was that they only had one political party. Now that I'm a grown man, I find that I live in a country that only has twice that number. I also find that even that is an illusion. No matter what people tell us, the difference between the two major parties in practice, rather than in word, is largely nonexistent. Clinton, a Democrat, wiped out welfare as we once knew it. Bush, a Republican, spent more government money than any of his predecessors. There's no way to tell the difference, except possibly the neckties.
So I listen to Romney, who is the head of the Western Religion of the United States, come out both in favor of and in opposition to abortion. He both loves and hates poor people. He knows and does not know what to do to fix things. He knows and does not know what needs fixing. He wears and does not wear an undershirt.
Obama gets accused by Romney of being a "nice guy," which is a pretty patronizing remark, but still somewhat civilized down below, where the wild things grow. The president is a socialist. He is a commie. He is a black man. He is an African-American. He is tall. He is svelte. He knows people of the Jewish faith. My God, the man has been accused of all things by all people and nobody--not even people I hate--could be quite that bad. And yet people on my side of the political spectrum--people like. . . me, for instance--argue that Obama hasn't done nearly enough to earn his progressive stripes. But how could he? I mean, what I want is a complete and total redistribution of this country's wealth. I want sick people to get healthy. I want hungry people to get fed. I want these things, not as the result of some grand political scheme, but as the result of people doing the right thing by one another. I just don't see how that makes me--or others--a bad guy.
So I will be sitting out the political process this year and probably forever more. I wrote a little about this a few weeks back and many of you sent me nice messages suggesting that I am not alone in my disenchantment.
One last thing: I must admit now that the blogging has connected me to some incredible people, many of whom have inspired me in ways they probably do not realize. I believe I have become a little more open-minded and I certainly believe that I am a nicer person with whom to spend time. Hoping this brief commentary finds you doing the same, I remain,
Your Faithful Servant,