Let The Bellyaching Begin

I predicted this would happen twelve years ago. For many of us, that was the first time we heard Obama speak or learned his name. I am just as much of an American as anyone, but felt all along that I had no dog in this hunt. I watched with a certain detached curiosity throughout the entire political season. I tried to remain impartial and to make fun of both candidates and the system equally. Of course, taking no discernible side makes you the enemy of both sides. Have you considered that some stay on the fence because there are vicious dogs in both yards and those dogs might be too stupid to know who to and who not to bite?

I got up this morning and prepared my coffee as usual, I then went out for a walk as it brewed. The clouds were the same colors, the wind smelled the same, and there was no mass hysteria in my neighborhood. In short, the world had not ended, and my job was still waiting for me.

All one need do, is turn on the television and voila, walla for the rest of us, you know it all. I am so glad this is over. As so many of my supposed friends have recently pointed out, I as a democrat, who has yet to vote for a democratic president, can now go back to spending all my time smoking medical marijuana, walking to the mail box to get my welfare check, once a month, and waiting for my next opportunity to vote, once every two years, so I can turn our country into some sick, twisted mix of socialism, communism and the sixties. Being a democrat is such a hard life.

As I predicted this outcome, I now predict what will happen in the next four years. Next year the deficit will be bigger and regardless of how many are out of work, those who are will still be just as hungry. Many will be employed, but will continue to work at jobs for leading corporations that do not provide adequate salaries, hours or benefits and certainly do not hold respect or concern for them. The homeless problem will continue to grow and be swept under the rug, so it doesn’t scare the rest of us. There will be over six million children abused and at least ten of those children will be beaten to death each day. Taxes, tension and what is demanded of us will continue to increase. Our rights, the American dream and peace of mind will continue to decrease.

We will continue to build prisons and continue to choke down the overworked judicial system with cases against those whose crimes are committed against themselves and, don’t forget, other frivolous lawsuits. Tell me again why we continue to elect lawyers to run our country; they seem to have done a marvelous job with everything else they got involved in. The wars on Iraq and Afghanistan may subside, but we will continue the wars on terrorism and drugs. Both are similar to fighting with mythical and illusive creatures that disappear when pursued too vigorously. Neither one weakens but strengthens with each battle.

Sorry, but all of this is a consequence of our current political shortcomings. This outcome was predestined regardless of the winner of the election. All the above mentioned problems have been marching in the same direction for as long as I can remember. In what world do we dream this will change?

So now the bellyaching begins. We have four more years to hear how awful this president is; just as we had to listen to how incompetent Bush was for the eight years before that. It’s funny, I remember listening to just as much bellyaching about Carter, Reagan, another guy named Bush and Clinton, seems to be a trend. As long as we continue to bellyache, we are not asking questions, it’s what they want and exactly what they get.

The people have spoken, and this election was far from the closely contested elections of the recent past. I urge all Americans to get over it and get busy with the reforms we so badly need. Remember that one person, the president, does not make or break this magnificent nation, but one person, you, can make a difference. Politics demands that politicians now slip into some sick form of stalemate and try everything in their power, to not accomplish, anything. Our country can no longer afford to sit by and allow this to happen, get involved in something real, instead of the smoke and mirrors of party politics. If you think the administration is weak, then use this opportunity to take back the country.

Thank God this reality television show is over, now we can go back to watching things with substance and credibility, like wrestling.     

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Never Enough Stuff

Why do we need so much stuff?  In fact, much of the stuff we think we need only serves to make us miserable. I’m perfectly happy with my two pairs of shoes and much to my wife’s dismay; I continue to wear only one of them. The other pair must sit idly by in the closet and wonder what they did.

We’ve had this discussion; my wife has about two hundred pairs of shoes. Try as she may, she cannot find a way to wear, two pair at one time. All those shoes sit in the closet and call to her, in the night, her stuff haunts her. She is the only person I know whose stuff has stuff. We moved recently, and much of our stuff was placed in storage.

So being a guy, I only imagined I had stuff to worry about. You know, things like. Is Georgia going to beat South Carolina? Or worse, Georgia lost that game, now the question has to be asked for another whole year. Was that pig’s foot, on the ground, too long to pick it up and eat it? If no one sees me pick it up, did it actually fall, at all? Sorry there are just some foods that are too good to let a little thing like touching the ground or falling on the table stop you from eating them. Peanut M&M’s, for example, macaroni and cheese or BBQ ribs. Is my beer cold enough? Is my steak hot enough and does my wife know about the two hundred bucks stashed in the garage? Does she know about the girl next door who keeps asking to go mud bogging in my truck? Will those tires get me through that mud hole or do I need to buy bigger ones?  What are the two guys names who are running for president and are either, for or against gun control? These are the true questions of life, but for a small, uncommonly cute Peruvian woman, the questions are much more complex.

When we moved, at least 196 pairs of shoes, eighteen hair brushes and dozens of coats were placed, with tons of other stuff, in storage. Poor girl has not had a decent night’s sleep ever since. When we eat dinner out, she gets a little misty, and we then have to pay a visit to the storage unit, which is out of the way, and a little too far to go at ten p.m. She must sit in the unit and console her stuff for a few minutes, trying desperately to make her stuff and herself feel better about the plight they collectively find themselves in. She pets and whispers sweet nothings to the abandoned stuff and upon returning home falls asleep with tears drying on her face. Whimpering in the night is more likely related to visions of abandoned brushes, not horrific scenes caused by too many onions at dinner or too many late night horror movies.

Recently she made a trip to D.C. To prepare for the trip a visit to the storage unit was required. Of course, the mental fall out of that trip will take weeks for her and her poor mistreated stuff to get over. She dug and picked through everything in the unit, to select one coat for the trip. As with each visit, much more than is needed returned to our already packed, little apartment. It’s kind of like going shopping, your wife picks out ten pairs of shoes, you tell her that three will do, she agrees to buy eight, but somehow checks out with twelve. You smile and pretend not to notice, simply so you may live to fight another day.

I was married to a Georgia girl before, picking a coat to make the D.C. trip would have been an easy thing after all a fur lined jean jacket goes with everything. For my wife, it was a life altering decision. She wanted to take five, for a three day trip, but ultimately settled on four. One pair of pajama’s turned into four, and several brushes, a lamp and whatever could be placed in the car, when I wasn’t looking, made the trip home, as well. Here’s the crazy part, she already has six brushes, I have one, every time she leaves the house, mine is the one that goes with her.

Stuff and the worrying over stuff causes too much stress. My poor wife tosses and turns over the mental health of her stuff and as long as some of it is relegated to live in the dungeon at the public storage building, she will continue to have nightmares. We will continue to make visits at odd hours to comfort its contents. I’m not sure her stuff feels any better after our visit, but she does and after all isn’t that what counts?