Digressions of a Dilettante

Digressions of a Dilettante
Vignettes of Inanity by Bud Hearn

Thursday, April 24, 2008

"Not Me" Lives Here....

Friends: "Not Me" Lives Here...

Your home, and mine, has been invaded by a rude and unwanted guest...a ghost named "Not Me." It invades and occupies in stealth, and is invisible, seen only by the constant crap it leaves around as it moves from room to room...

It was here this morning...the kitchen phone was not in its place, but in the bedroom. "Who put this phone in the wrong place," I hollered. "Not me," someone answered. Not Me lives here!

Just yesterday I searched for my reading glasses, kept in their "proper" place...they were gone. "OK," I screamed, "Who moved my glasses?" "Not me," another indignantly replied. Not me lives here!

I found the glasses in the laundry room, and the lenses were smudged...! Not Me even has fingerprints.

Two towels hang on the hooks next to the shower. Mine was dry, until I got out of the shower. Somehow it was wet, and the other one dry. They had obviously been switched. "Who switched the towels," I screamed..."Not Me" a faint, but suspect, voice answered. Not Me lives here.

Not Me lives in a lot of places, like The White House, the sexually sterile halls of Georgia DOT, our offices, and of late, as we have discovered, in the Yearning for Zion cult compound. DNA tests are underway there to determine who the "ghosts" are who fathered (and mothered) the confiscated children, while the poor little Unfortunates are shuttled among the foster care houses of Texas along with drug addicts, robbers, and malcontent children of all sorts. Not Me lives in a lot of places.

Locally, Not Me is who is blamed for the lack of a performance bond on an $18 million Technical School Glynn county is building. Not Me has even confused the inquisition of "why" the new jail should be located in downtown Brunswick. The multiple voices of Not Me fessed up, "Not Me."

Do what you will, but I'm not one to idly sit by and take it anymore...I've taken clues from Bill Murray in "Caddy Shack" and am laying traps for this Not-Me ghost. I have "baited" it with snares and hidden cameras and will soon come to the answer...and as it is said, "When the answer is found, it will be a simple one."

I don't know about you, but I suspect I already know who some of the human hosts are that this ghost of Not Me has invaded.

And you can bet it's Not Me.

Bud
April 24, 2008

Thursday, April 17, 2008

From Poppies to Peyote.....

Friends: From Poppies to Peyote...

"Tonight the bottle let me down..." Elvis Costello and Merle Haggard

April 15 is nasty enough on its own...but this week we have been bludgeoned by weird news. Escape is impossible.

The Bermuda Triangle of West Texas, formed by Waco, Eldorado and Crawford, is home to cults of crazed humanity...from Koresh to the LSD polygamist Jeffs to "W," the Clown of Crawford. Stuff occurs there so strange one can't even make it up. Janet Reno, The Miami Beach Brute, ended the Branch Davidian 51-day siege by gassing the holed-up holy rollers and burning em' out...extreme, but effective.

Black-hooded Texas Rangers, with arms locked in a phalanx of righteousness and in assault vehicles with automatic weapons, ruthlessly raided Jeff's compound. Women, praying and wailing, and young children were rounded up like longhorn cows, prodded into vans and taken away for interrogation and perhaps electrical shock. All this was provoked by a call from a hysterical 16-year-old girl who claimed the compound was filled with sex-crazed 50-year-old men, where floggings and degenerate spiritual rituals were the events du jour... and where "the laying on of hands" took on new meaning.

Nearby on the ranch in Crawford, Emperor George The Absent and Pope Ben XVI crouched, chanting for hours Hail Mary séances over a crystal ball, discussing the dismantling of the Catholic Church by prowling pedophiliac priests. As they peered into the black soul of Vladimir Putin, W was rethinking his original assessment of the Russian’s trustworthiness. Somehow the concept of trust and Putin's soul seem to be incongruous.

Meanwhile, Obama The Hopeful Harvard Elitist, was hanging out in San Francisco with Berkeley nutcases, peering into the psyche of Pennsylvanians---you know, those angry and bitter voters who cling to guns or religion in explanation of their frustrations in life. Dr. Wright and the NRA, while separated by style, are now joined in agenda !

Not to be outdone, Washington and Wall Street combined to further fleece the citizenry by a bailout of greedy speculators while bemoaning the "moral hazard" of it. Somehow, the word "Moral" just doesn't seem to fit in these 2 places, although "Hazard" has a seat at the table.

Over at the Treasury teams of bleary-eyed accountants with small necks and sharp pencils attempt to explain the mysterious evaporation of $12 billion dollars, 363 tons, 720,000 pounds--cold American cash--sent to Iraq for bribes and other indiscretions. That's right...the same money you just paid in on Tuesday!

Closer to home, hordes of hapless homeowners huddled en masse, weeping and clinging to each other on the courthouse steps of Main Street, while foreclosures--some 20,000 per month--continue unabated. Tibetan Supporters even chained themselves to bridges in protest...my, my, the natives have certainly been restless this week!

Friends, we live in treacherous and uncertain times. Who'd blame us for seeking solace in bottles or other sorts of anesthetizations. And if there were ever a time, it's now...where are you, Dr. Leary?

As for me, I prefer wine or a good single malt, either, or perhaps both combined for shock effect. Short of death, it is a suitable but temporary relief. But, hey, that's just me...you probably have your own secret escape routes.

For others, however, Elvis and Merle have pegged it pretty well:

"Tonight the bottle let me down
It let your memory come around
The one true friend I thought I'd found
Tonight the bottle let me down."


From Poppies to Peyote …may our collective hangover be short and mild!
"Here's looking at you, Kid..."


Bud
April 17, 2008

Monday, April 7, 2008

The Green Lizard....Death Averted

Friends: The Green Lizard
….Death Averted


Today I rescued a green lizard from a violent death.

The Scene: My back porch, early morning.

A battle of epic proportions was shaping up--a classic stand-off, an eyeball to eyeball stare-down: An encounter between Sophie, my 22 pound Westie and a 1 oz. green lizard...the weak against the strong, nature revealing its true self, brutally bloody, tooth and nail...a fight to the finish (likely the lizard's finish, since it was out-matched by size, teeth and tenacity)...but it didn't flinch. I admired its courage.

The image of the stand-off is etched in my mind: the green lizard, about 6" long, surely sensed its imminent demise in the hot breath of the canine inches away. Yet it stood its ground, its fearsome mouth gaping, ready to render an insect-decimating crushing bite to its formidable foe.

The bell rang, and instantly the battle ensued. For about a minute the green lizard held its own, lashing out in its dragon stance and fancy footwork, and losing only a portion of its tail in the violent struggle. It was a valiant effort, far more than I would have offered up in such a situation...but then the specter of death summons up a different kind of courage!

Yet as any fool could see, the fight was patently unfair, the odds too predictable, so I intervened....I know, I know, nature should be left to itself--survival of the fittest and all that Darwinian crap, but nature today had a kinder side. I became the referee and arbiter of the conflict. Undaunted, the lizard stood its ground and accepted the rescue graciously. Sophie, one mean female--but then I repeat myself--seemed pleased that she'd at least won by a TKO, and smugly wandered off in pursuit of another opportunity...opportunities for fights abound!

Back on the tree branch the green lizard regained its composure and moved slowly in search of another battle with better odds. The marquee might read: "Tailless" Green Lizard vs. "Monster" Mosquito---odds, 1 billion to 1, about the same as green lizard had with Sophie.

What provoked the conflict I’ll never know, but as Green Lizard crawled up the branch, I think I saw it smile and wink at me...a good way to end a pleasant morning on the back porch.


Bud
April 7, 2008

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

The Fortune Cookie...When All Direction Fails

Friends:

The Fortune Cookie…..When All Direction Fails


Lord, I was born a ramblin’man tryin’ to make a livin’ and doing the best I can…..” Dickey Betts, Allman Brothers Band, 1973

Wednesday night turned nasty at the Oriental Delight, my favorite Chinese restaurant in Atlanta. Yes, it might have been my fault…But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Maybe it was the smog of yellow pine pollen, or the encroaching anonymity of irrelevance ~ maybe it was the parade of real estate hustlers shuffling through my office peddling over-used and under-water deals that set me off. But something did, and I lost all sense of direction, or something like that.

Now, direction for a “ramblin’ man” is important, but sometimes the way gets obscure. Like the Yogi Berri-ism says, “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.” I was looking for a direction and finding none, that’s why I was at the Oriental Delight …..the answer was again: The Fortune Cookie!

How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone
?” Bob Dylan

I’ve always found solace and direction in fortune cookies ~ don’t lie, so have you! Some fortunes have been derogatory, others prescient, even some humorous ~ but I’ve always found that they “hinted” at direction.

For example, here are some memorable ones (I won’t say what happened when I acted on all of them!):

• “Worst things are yet to come” ~ I had another scotch.
• “The cure will involve an implant” ~ a secret!
• “The only thing you will feel will be the cold catheter” ~ you can probably guess!
• “Your children will inherit early” ~ I changed my will.
• “From your cell you will be able to see the exercise yard” ~ I repented and gave more money to the Church.
• “Your lawyer will get everything you own” ~ I fired him!

Back to the Oriental Delight ~ my fortune cookie had no fortune in it….EMPTY, and something snapped in me. Madly I rushed from table to table, snatching patron’s cookies, furiously cracking them open. Empty, Empty, Empty ~~~ ALL were EMPTY!

When screams from the table of senior citizens erupted, I was forced to leave the restaurant under threat of physical violence or arrest. But not before, in a last gasp grab, I had seized one last cookie from an unsuspecting child while I sprinted out the door.

In the darkness of the parking lot, my composure regained, I sat quietly in my car and slowly unwrapped the last fortune cookie. Cautiously I broke it in half, praying for a fortune, praying, praying…and there it was, there it was ~ my fortune, my direction, my future. It read simply, “See Rock City.”

With the engine roaring and tires screeching, I pulled onto US 41 and headed North…lookout life, here I come ~ again!


Bud
April 1, 2008