The Why Me Movement

     
      I was in line at my local taco stand when a lady wearing a lime green sweat suit and two of her male counterparts walked up. They ignored the line altogether and instead stepped to the side and were talking. I kept my eye on them, curious as to what they were doing. I saw one man slide a bindle of contraband to the other man, and their meeting began to make more sense to me.    
      The lady in the lime green sweat suit was pacing back and forth and I gathered she was on an upper of some kind based on the limited information that I had. At one point the lady moved behind me and was standing way too close to me. I could feel my hackles stand up. She wasn't all that attractive or likable from what could tell. 
      Then she moved to a stool and sat down next to me. She was facing me with her legs extended. She kept opening and closing her legs in a suggestive manner while she sat there staring at me. 
      I thought to myself "why me?"
      And that's when I became the founder and CEO of the Why Me Movement? 

Teddy Bear

   
      Back in the day, when I was delivering flowers, I used to see a young woman walking the streets holding a teddy bear. She was in her twenties, with short blond hair, and wore dresses that reminded me of the girls I knew in the first grade. She was an attractive woman, but it was obvious that she was missing a few screws.  
      The teddy bear she carried was worn out from being held too much. It was a white teddy bear, but it had become ragged and soiled. 
      I'd see the girl walking in random places. Sometimes I'd see her in the neighborhoods near the mountains, and other times I'd see her closer to Colorado Boulevard. She had a blank expression on her face as she walked.
      The pervert in me thought of trying to talk to her, but I never did for fear of something. 
      I hadn't seen the girl in a while. I wondered what happened to her. Then, one day as I was driving near Washington boulevard I saw her walking toward Colorado boulevard. She had the teddy bear under her arm as usual, but this time I noticed something different. There was a bulge coming from her skirt. I had to look twice to make sure, but sure enough she was pregnant. 
      Huh? Someone took advantage of my little girl. 

Crazy Bird

   
      When I was a kid there was a man we called Crazy Bird. Crazy Bird had turned his backyard into a vegetable garden, and in my mind, because of the way he dressed and how he carried himself, he was a farmer.
      He was a an older man who wore white button-down shirts and beige khaki pants. His shirts were finely pressed and tucked into his pants. He always wore a hat. Sometimes it was a straw hat and other times it was a more formal hat like a Philadelphia.
      The thing about Crazy Bird was he didn't like us kids walking on his lawn. There was a stretch of grass that was sandwiched by sidewalk. That stretch of grass was Crazy Bird's. We kids would walk on the sidewalk and then hit Crazy Bird's grass to get to the sidewalk on the other side.
      If Crazy Bird happened to catch you walking on his grass he'd grab the water hose and chase you down. "Get off my grass!!" he'd yell.
      He was a tall lanky man. He looked a lot like William Burrows. Try to imagine a man that looked like William Burrows chasing you with a water hose. That was Crazy Bird. 

War Robots

      My last three blogs have been on the negative side. I was going through a funk where outside forces were getting the better of me. I suppose there are people who aren't tuned in to world events, but I am. The news cycle has been bizarre to say the least, and it's been enough to bring me down at times. I wouldn't say all hope is lost, but I do wonder if others understand how they're been manipulated. 
      I'm not a war robot, so I notice the scale of manipulation. It's constant. It's so constant it has reached the point of being unrecognizable.
      I don't want to be the guy whose constantly complaining, but part of being alive is making observations. Observations in some instances are a matter of life and death. The mere process of asking questions and wondering can cause internal frustrations. I have many questions and I'm constantly wondering, which contributes to my daily agitation. Sometimes I wonder why others don't wonder, that in itself can cause me agitation, especially, when their lack of curiosity contributes to what I deem as poor choices. 
      Poor choices are a killer. Poor choices destroy the environment, people, and the process of tranquil living. So do us all a favor, read, read, read, and make informed choices so we don't have to suffer from poor choices. 
      This has been a public service announcement from the ninety-nine point nine percent. 

Beer

Even beer farts.   

The Flip Phone

      "Don't they know I have a flip phone?" That's what I say to myself when someone sends me an unsolicited text message. My phone isn't sophisticated enough to show the image they're sending, if there is an image. I can only imagine what it looks like. Maybe a naked lady, I'm not sure. I'll look at the phone to see who it is and when I figure out it's nobody important I'll delete the message. 
      I'm fascinated with the strategy of sending text messages on a phone in hopes of drumming up business. Sometimes the messages will come in five, six at a time. It's annoying. The sound of my phone vibrating is enough to set me off. 
      It's some kind of weird old fashioned strategy. I imagine some people answer the messages though, or they wouldn't keep sending them out. 
      India pops into my head. "They're coming from India." Sorry India, I don't mean to discriminate. They can just as easily be coming from the Philippines or Ohio. 
       When someone sends me an emoji, the image always comes up as a series of squares. It's none too exciting to receive an emoji that looks like a square. I try to figure out the intention of the sender. I'll look at the screen and depending on how many squares there are, I figure that's the number of emojis. I had to tell one of my friends to stop sending me emojis cause I can't see them. He laughed, and then sent me the old :))))

Bored

      I'm bored with capitalism. I'm bored with its commercials, its morning programs, its news cycles, its wars, its so-called heroes, its famous people. I'm bored with people trying to become famous. That strikes me as the saddest of them all. That's like praying for money. Asking God for things that don't matter. 
      Maybe I'm bored cause I'm boring. I do feel a tinge boring. I tend to follow the same patterns and my patterns are not always all that interesting, sipping coffee, playing the guitar, writing, recording songs. 
      When I was sick with the flu I had nothing better to do but to cruise the Internet. And the association of being sick and reading the same old things over and over soured me to certain websites. I'm bored with them. Sick of the commentary, the headlines. I'm tired of everybody having an opinion, and thinking they can read into to future and determine the results of something that hasn't happened. It's mind numbing. It's redundant. It's dang monotonous.