Saturday, January 18, 2014


I got these 'doldrums' and can't write so late at night anymore. Probably a winter thing...dark skies.. desiccated (due to heat) interiors... too many chocolate chip cookies in the house. But we had over 110 hits in the last few hours and for me (sigh) that's 'good,' so I figure all the paranormal people can go frolic amongst themselves for a while.

But I still wanna speechify and pontificate (maybe just pre ZZZzzz delirium. That means I got no breaks, so here goes). 

Ever put some really good stuff out there?... You know what I mean. Two hours later after a whole big crab cake dinner it's STILL funny. And nobody notices or remarks at all. But then you see some real plugged-in, connected bastid, who's sold to the masses like Campbell's Soup tweet bout the zit on his back and the world goes crazy... They laugh... They pee... They roll around on the grass... kick their feet in the air like Stepford fans and hit that retweet like it's Morse code..... Not the (what the hell good does THIS do me?) 'favorite' key. I mean the RETWEET key. They ain't hiding nothing. They want all the whole universe to see this sucker.

And you think --- Well, OK, all I have to do is interact (and I mean sincerely) with some well known people and they'll communicate back and that'll do it.. Waa-Laa... semi-fame.... But the sad truth is well known people, for the most part, only see the humanity in other well known people.  Rest of us just big dumb schmucks wit' money in our fists who MIGHT buy a ticket... maybe even like a t-shirt too. 

Oh, there are exceptions and they shine like beacons on a storm-tossed sea. Lights along the way... warm hearths in the night. And I love them like I love all-you-can-eat Chinese style buffets. Can't tell you their names (here) 'cause you'd all jump on 'em and then they'd turn mean like all the others and dump me and I'd get even more neurotic. But if you hang around my  TWITTER thing, you'll find them.

OK, that's it. That's what I want to say...... Oh, but 'fore I collapse, let me spit this little piece out too. What also gets me are all the daytime TV people who never met an impoverished photogenic weepy-eyed soul they didn't want to give a washer-dryer too ( or maybe a van..or maybe a big check <to poor people> or maybe a little Disney... not Mustique, where they go, but Disney good enough for them... they won't know no difference) BUT let one a them cryin' bastids go - Oh, wait, My huzzbin got a scrip' I want you to see... Man, they get gently pushed aside and that smile beam on next one so fast, it'll give you cramps...... They let you have crumbs off the tin, but nobody wanna share the pie... Least most is like that.

OK, I ventilated my spleen a little. Now I can have some iced tea, take my Zantac and go to sleep.

Much thanks to you all. Please comment 'bout your 'pet peas,' or whatever they  call 'em.

'Night... That's it.



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