Tag Archives: humor

A Place For Mom? (What about Dad?!)

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Every once in a while a commercial makes me want to yell and break things. Growl. Emit mighty harrumphs into the air.

I do throw a fit when I see A Place for Mom commercials with Joan Lunden (a fine person by any measure).

(What about Dad?! Who finds a place for Dad?!)

With its U.S. Headquarters in Seattle, Washington, A Place for Mom is essentially “400 Senior Living Advisors across the U.S. and Canada” who help you “transition [someone] into senior living,” according to the company’s website.

It may be the best darn company of its kind on planet earth, for all I know.

(I cannot comment on whether the company has expanded to extraterrestrial locations.)

The thing is, I don’t like the company name. Not at all.

Choosing to transition into senior living doesn’t transform an individual into a puddle of helpless flesh and bones. The last thing anyone needs to encounter at a time like that in life is condescension, intentional or not.

And, there’s something else. Best as I can tell, there’s no actual senior living community operated by A Place for Mom. And that’s not fair to Mom. (Or Dad!)

One writer’s internal dialogue

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  • It’s time to do some writing.
  • Fuck me.
  • I’m serious.
  • I can tell.
  • You just –
  • One word down, then another –
  • And another, exactly.
  • You know what gets me?
  • What?
  • It sounds so easy. Just sit down, or stand, whatever works, and then just start writing anything. Just set words down and pay attention and the words will just come of their own accord.
  • That’s not so easy.
  • What – ?
  • “Words will just come of their own accord.” That’s an act of faith on your part. Faith that if you begin the words will follow. The weight’s on you to begin, then it’s pretty much stay the hell out of the way. It can’t be the same experience each time you write, is it?
  • Now that you mention it, no.

Marty’s knees (a romantice divertimento)

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Marty knew it made no sense and couldn’t possibly be true. That it felt true was besides the point, (almost). Because oh man, were he to believe it, live it, and be wrong? That shit would knock him down. Like most, Marty was tired of getting up one way or another in life. I’ve donated enough to that cause. This is precisely what Marty thought when he realized some bizarre shit was going. Had to be. He’d fallen in love with Sheila and that couldn’t possibly be right. He’d known her for more than a decade for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t like her beauty — admittedly the kind known to buckle knees when first observed by even the most casual observer — was anything new to him. His rational side, what was left of it, understood this. But, there was a problem. You don’t know somebody for more than a decade for shit’s sake and suddenly, badabing-badaboom, you’re in love. It doesn’t work like that, or so he’d always thought, until now that is. Somehow and in some way she’d become an anomaly. What the fuck’s up with that? Had he missed something all these years? Did some part of his mind simply leave the area when he wasn’t looking, knocking his understanding of reality out of alignment? They need body shops for the mind, he thought, not for the first time.

And if all this wasn’t enough to make his head spin, a new Sheila reality was on the scene. She made his knees weak.

Charles Darwin’s one big mistake

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I am waiting for someone to write a piece about the researchers and scientists and scholars out of Oxford University and Harvard, I believe, who published a study in Princeton, New Jersey’s J. Yailbyrd Press, on January 13, Friday the 13th, 2017, confirming that while Darwin’s theory of evolution was right in the main, we are in fact descendants of an animal species, Darwin got the species wrong. We do not share a common ancestor with the great apes as previously thought, not even close. The study, with its reams of supporting empirical data,  revealed share a  common ancestor with the lemmings. Lemmings are stocky little rodents common to the Arctic tundra with a reputation for following those they were dopey enough to think leaders off of cliffs.

The authors of the study, Charles Darwin’s One Wrong Turn, say the mistake should not be seen as a mark against the great man. After all, they rightly point out, he did pave the way for everyone else.

The study involved 1,478 respondents: 739 male, 739 female, ages 18 to 21. Researchers said only males standing five-foot eight and females standing five-foot six were included in the study. Scientists said any ratio that might possibly apply to the very notion of a height difference, combined with a tripling of ambidextrous molecules in the red blood cells believed to exist in the bloodstreams of every respondent, made the implementation of height restrictions critically important to the studies success, to the tenth power. The equation’s final outcome, as it were.

Experts acknowledge these are perilous findings from a sociological perspective. But, on the other hand, the nation’s mental health system is rejoicing.   Mental health professionals from around the country say the study has answered a lot of questions and solved a lot of mysteries. As a result, their work is both a lot easier, and, clinically, a lot more necessary.

Waitin’ For the Bully

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The doctor says we need to rule out cancer. I cock one eyebrow and say, No shit. He looks up, smiles and says, I think we’ll be okay here but I’m a little worried so best we’re careful. I say, I’m all for careful, bro.

I am surprised I am not surprised and not scared – just pissed. The day is beautiful and I am still in a good mood and the music that pumps pulsing from my car speakers on the ride home fills the air and as always my body moves to the rhythm. Need to rule out cancer, I think, and in a way I am glad because finally I can punch something straight in the mouth. I know the chance of cancer is not huge but knowing the possibility is on me for some curious reason makes me itch for a fight. Almost like I’ve learned a bully may be coming over and I’m thinking good because it’s been a long time since I’ve kicked somebody’s ass and this bully will do me just fine.

I am not worried about the possibility of this fight and realize this truth is a gift of sobriety. I know too there are people walking around these days who can thank my sobriety for the fact their legs have never been broken. The world of politics and advocacy can make you angry sometimes and sometimes, like I told Michael today, I miss the days when you can just challenge someone and throw hands.

Yes yes, I am glad those techniques of problem solving are many years behind me. But still… there are times when I see Dick Cheney – the man gives mens’ genitalia a bad name! – and realize I’d have no problem kicking his wimpy war criminal ass. And then there are others not so famous. One is this silk suited sugary sweet specious simp and, of course, others.

But you know what? I’m gonna go work on my garden today, plant some seeds indoors, listen to music, smile, and wait for the bully if he chooses to come to my door and, if he does – I’ll kick his ass.
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