Smerkle In The House With Two Points To Make

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For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Smerkle Grumpy. Known Peter all his life. I wrote words here before. Been too long since my man Peter gave over the pen to me. I told him just that, to be sure. We hugged. We’re cool.

Now, I am no journalist. I am a being that says what he wants, straight out. I try to stay in the borders of decency and such, but not always. The thing is, there’s a bunch of wickedness out there now. Peter’s a good man, but his words are too polite. He knows I am not as polite as he is, but he said my voice might be needed these days and so he said I could pick two points I want to make, and go for it. So here goes the first point.

If you support the orange American Grand Dragon in the White House, you know damned well you’re supporting a racist and a sexual predator. Does that really mean you’d be just fine about it if he grabbed your wife or daughter, sister, or your mother, by her privates? If you are just fine with that, a sick puppy and you might want to think counseling. Some shit. But get well, for fuck’s sake.

One thing; you can’t support this beast, and act like you’re not supporting, racism, bigotry for all but white and wealthy men, sexual predators, and Trump’s homeboy, Vladimir Putin.

Okay, that’s the first point.  So here comes the second.

I think my imagination knows pretty much verbatim a conversation me and Televangelist Pastor Paula White would have.

Pastor White, born Paula Michelle Furr in Tupelo, Mississippi, is a spiritual advisor to President Donald J. Trump. She has also had a bucket-load of cosmetic surgery on her face. It’s heartbreaking to see. It looks like the poor woman’s beginning to melt, if you ask me.

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Now, this White lady – well don’t that beat all – has a ministry. She knows how to preach, in front of audience and camera. She thumps the bible with the best of them. Can’t you just hear our conversation? Listen. I mean, if I said, “Pastor White, would you agree God created us? That we are created in God’s image?”

She would say something like “Yes, I do,” or maybe, “That is what the bible tells us.”

I would continue. “And we’d agree, would we not, that what God creates, for each of us, is, at its core, is perfection in all ways. That it is up to us to shed ourselves of sin, and recognize the gifts God has given us?”

“Oh, yes. That is absolutely true.”

“We’d agree that God’s creations need no improvement?”

“We’d agree.”

“Then here’s my question. How’d on earth did he fuck up your face? How is it,  that everything God has created from the beginning of whatever-the-fuck time it is, has been perfect, then all of a sudden – badabing! badaboom! – he gets to your face, and something goes wrong? What are the odds of that?”

“I can’t believe you have the audacity – “

“I’m just gettin’ warmed up, lady. I got another one for you. Who are you to decide that God messed up your face in this first place? That’s pretty arrogant ya know – overruling the Big Guy like that.”

I don’t know what she’d say to that. I have no problem at all with anyone who chooses plastic surgery. I have a problem with hypocrisy. You can’t go around saying God’s perfect, but you’re even better.

Anyway, I made my two points. Thanks, Pete.

Love ya all,

Smerkle Grumpy

Say I Love You

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I am 66 now. I’ve had four parents. (I was adopted when I was a baby.) None of my parents made it out of their sixties. Two of the four committed suicide. My concern that I don’t have a lot of time left may stand on shaky ground, but it still stands. Strangely enough, I seem to be okay with that.

If willpower plays a role in all this, then I feel good about my chances of reaching 70 and beyond. But right now we have this Novel Covid 19 virus in our midst, and, it seems, I’m in the at-risk group.

(Point of order, if you please. If, like me, you’ve been walking around with a bullet lodged in the prefrontal cortex of your brain for 35 years, you must own-up to having a bit of practice on the feeling at-risk front.)

So, in brief, what to do? Or, were I wearing a tie at the moment, what is one to do?

First, you accept the reality of the experience you’re in, whatever it is, and, for the love of God, do not judge yourself.

And then, for me, my response is to honor my instinct, and my instinct is to pour as much love and kindness and compassion and, in so many ways, most of all, honesty and loyalty, into how I live my life. Anything less would be a betrayal all that I am as a man, and, of equal importance, it would be a betrayal of everyone I’ve loved in my life, and,a betrayal of those who have been good enough to love me.

Tell those you love that you love them. Say it out loud. I know this is not always easy for some. The reality is, saying it out loud is an act of strength.

No doubt some will already know you love them, and for others, what a beautiful thing to learn. Never ever underestimate how much those words can mean to people.

And then, there is this. Those who love you deserve to hear your voice say it.

(Last but not least, I hope those who love you, tell you. You deserve to hear those words too. Promise. They never get old.)

***

For CJL

Tadmuffin Millhouse #1

“A lot of people are rubbish on the loyalty front. I don’t get it.” Our speaker was my good friend of many years, name of Tadmuffin Millhouse. Tadmuffin. How on earth do you not like someone named Tadmuffin Millhouse, I ask you? The man sounds like a cottage!” log-cabin-1886620_1920

We were sitting side by side on an old rock wall flanked by woods on one side and a meadow on the other. We faced the meadow. The movement of a meadow when the breeze has its way is magic to behold – beauty in perpetual motion. Tadmuffin’s chest had puffed up with happy pride when out of the blue I asked him for his views on the importance of loyalty. 

“Too often the script is essentially the same. I’ll hear a woman or man say, “I’m loyal to my family and friends. To all my loved ones,” and then, more times than I’d like to think about, they jump ship the moment any, say, actual real-life loyalty be required.” 

And then, Tadmuffin being Tadmuffin, told me his loyalty. 

“Loyalty comes from our better angels. Spiritual nausea and pain is what disloyalty feels like, experiencing it, or inflicting it. Disloyalty is injustice. Moral injustice. Hell, I’d be loyal to that pleasant looking man walking across the street over there. I can see his wife. They’re laughing. I’d be loyal to her as well. I love being loyal to others. I can’t do anything about lip-service loyalty. Loyalty is an honor to have in one’s marrow. It’s not always easy, and it’s not always fear free, but it is honorable life.” 

Shady in the house

– How long you called Shady?

– All memory long, or thereabouts.

– Nice sound.

– Been trustworthy from jump street, so there’s some humor in it.

– Like jazz notes, the sound. Shay-dee. Shaaaaay-deeee. 

– Saxophone.

– Clarinet, could be.

– Absolutely, yes.

– It’s a good name.

– Thank you, man.

– You’re thinking these days?

– It’s like Benjamin Franklin said when some folks asked him what kind of government the new constitution created. “A republic, if you can keep it.” We’re going to find out if we can keep it.

– This president.

– Does not want the republic.

– Shady’s a good name.

– Thank you.

– Jazz.

– Clarinet.

– Shaaay-deeee.

Congress & Shut The Fuck Up

I’d like to be able to just go ahead and say, Shut the fuck up and not cause any trouble in the process. I mean no disrespect. That said, I write and say my own sentences, thank you very much, and it is not my fault that shut the fuck up is a phrase that can be very helpful on the emotion management front. One of my favorite lines in movies is in Midnight Run, when Robert De Niro’s character says to Charles Grodin’s character, I got two words for you. Shut the fuck up. A classic line, if ever there was one.

Shut the fuck up is a playful phrase with all kinds of fun potential. Just close your eyes (or not) and imagine yourself saying, Shut the fuck up to those you think might just benefit from the experience.

I’d pay good money to walk up to Trump and say, “Yo, orange boy, or whatever the fuck happened to you, shut the fuck up.”

I thank some members of Congress for helping me realize I’d best not to say, Shut the fuck up,  because it is, if these folks are any measure, an apparently deadly form of nuclear-weapon English. After all, members of Congress cower in fear when faced with schoolyard tweet or taunt from Trump. Lyin’ Ted scare the shit out of you, does it? Little Marco, freeze you in place?

To these brave congressional few I say, I’ve got two words for you, shut the fuck up.