I Used to Care…But Things Have Changed

“Gonna change my way of thinking, make myself a different set of rules…gonna put my good foot forward and stop being influenced by fools.” Bob Dylan

Bob Dylan sang these words. I borrowed them. I seem to have no original thoughts anymore. I stay confused.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been sick lately. It doesn’t pay to be sick these days. You get no sympathy. “Hi ya doing?” they ask. “I’m dying,” I say. They shrug, roll their eyes, blow me off. Nobody cares. Only politicians do. So they say. Just the other day I lost my voice. What did my friends do? Applaud and jeer.

My symptoms surfaced while watching the recent political conventions. Both parties dished out the same rot, though some sounded more exotic than others. Whatever the menu, it was prepared by the same Wall Street and White House kitchens. I should not have swallowed it. Mexican burritos from dumpsters are safer.

The conventions were entertaining, if you like circuses and carnival sideshows. It’s hard to figure which one did the most damage to their cause. Ancient Republican extras from a 1950’s Western showed up. They sat stoic, wearing plastic cowboy hats. Huh? Fire the choreographer! It resembled a Texas wake…big hats, no cows, no breath. Were they manikins? Things have changed.

The Democrats were more entertaining. Comedians did most of the talking. They filled the stadium. How? Free fried chicken, Bubba, delivered in boxcars from KFC. It drew a big crowd, literally and figuratively, mostly from Alabama. Sweat poured from them in tidal surges. It gave a new dimension to Roll Tide. The Rainbow Coalition and Gay Pride activists had to suck up their pride and munch on Chick-fil-A handouts.

Do you know about the new war in America? News to me. A ‘war on women?’ Republicans started it. Democrats discovered it. Who’s the enemy? I asked my confused mind. I find out it’s The System, stupid. It’s rigged against women. Men stacked the deck. What’s new? Women have taken to the streets, demanding equal work for equal pay. Or, is it the other way around? I’m still confused. I always thought women were at war with men. Things have changed.

Of course, women are always demanding. Nothing new here. But since Sandra Fluke and Elizabeth Warren are off the leash, no man’s safe. Not now. The truth’s out…people can marry anybody, or anything, they love. Eric Holder will soon define love. Free contraceptives will make babies extinct. Women have been justified. It was bound to happen. No more Prada…jackboots are in.

The seminal, most poignant moment in the Democratic convention occurred when President 44 burst onstage and clutched President 42 in a tender, loving embrace. The crowd erupted in ecstasy. I broke up. My tears flowed freely watching two grown men passionately cuddle and nuzzle one another. The only thing missing was a French kiss. It was almost as touching as seeing Lyndon Johnson expose his abdominal surgical scar that resembled the DMZ in Viet Nam.

I’m confused about “QE3...Quantitative Easing 3.” It appeared alongside an article about McDonalds putting calorie and fiber counts on Big Macs. In that context it sort of made sense. A Big Mac has no fiber. It’s a chemical concoction of sodium and sugar. So naturally, I thought ExLax had introduced a new suppository for the low-fiber fast-food industry. Wrong again. It’s about flushing the system with money, a laxative of sorts, a kind of Quantitative Greasing of taxpayers, if you will.

As for speaking out of context, the real Mitt has emerged from the muck. We discover that Joe Biden’s genes are in his biological woodpile. Presidential candidates should never speak the truth. Only lies and distortions work. Ask Huey P. Long. So what if half of all American families get a government check and don’t pay taxes? Are you confused about this? Not me. Even a fool knows money from the government is tax-free. We’re entitled. Where have you been?

Today I took a look at my life’s Bell Curve, a mythical graph that traces life’s transition from diapers unto diapers. I’m at that point where it’s time to just throw up my hands and shout, “What the hell!” and forget about girth, gray hair, wrinkles and poverty, and go back to smoking Cubans and sipping aged scotch whiskey.

Yes, things have changed. You’d best get yourself a new way of thinking, because if you don’t like today, tomorrow will be your worst nightmare!

Bud Hearn
September 20, 2012