Optimistic Pessimisim

I can’t wait until this election is over. Watching your friends and family discuss politics is like eating a hot dog, then seeing how it was made.

I love these people–at least as much as I love suspicious sausage–but my digestion would be better if I didn’t know how they’re put together.

Especially the old people.

The first lesson any attentive person in their thirties learns is this: You’re only two generations removed from something hideous. For instance, one of my grandmothers was married at the age of 14, and started having kids within a year. Totally acceptable in her day!

Let that sink in for a moment, then ask yourself what kind of freak show your own grandparents grew up in.

And then ask yourself how that might have affected how they raised your parents.

And then…oh god, does that mean you’re messed up, too!?!

Yes. Yes it does.

Thirty, maybe forty years from now, you’ll be hanging out with your own grand children, they’ll ask the wrong question, and next thing you know you’ll be all: “You know, back in my day, we didn’t let our robots just roam the neighborhood however they pleased!”

And then they’ll be trying to drag you out of the room, apologizing to the other guests, making excuses for your insensitivity to the robotic plight.

Not to belittle the plight of anyone right now, this is just how it works. Each generation reels in horror at what its ancestors did, while putting together plenty of its own horrible things for future generations to reel at.

And you know, I kinda take comfort in that. ‘Cause yeah, we mess things up, we get a lot of stuff wrong, but we also manage to get one or two things right before passing this sputtering torch of a world on to the next batch of fools.

So yeah, maybe things get uncomfortable when your Uncle Joe gets a couple of beers in him and starts talking about the “good old days,” or when your seemingly-otherwise-sane friend reads some socio-economic treatise from the 1950s and starts spouting his theories, whatever.

Just relax, do the best you can, and hope that in a few decades, when you start freaking people out, there’ll be someone there to drag you away from the party and tuck you into bed.

Have a great day, you weirdos.

Sciatica!

Dear god, you wanna talk about irony? As soon as I started this blog, I totally trashed my sciatic nerve doing laundry.

Laundry!

Bending down to pull the wet clothes from the washer, bending down again to toss them in dryer. Couldn’t pull it off. My mother, 70 years old, she does laundry at least three times a week, no problem. I do two loads in one day? It very nearly crippled me.

Two days I was walking around like I had scoliosis and a bad case of diaper rash. Just kinda waddling along, keeping my back as straight as I could, but something about the muscles down in my lower back–I don’t know. They just couldn’t support my upper body. I kept having to lean on things and lie down.

And if you’ve never had sciatica before–’cause you take care of yourself, unlike me–the pain, it just radiates down your leg and into your foot. Or your whole leg goes numb while your butt cheek tingles. Or it does what mine did and just cycles through all of it. Pain, numbness, tingling. It’s ridiculous.

Oh, and what did I do for the first week I had it? Did I maybe do some stretching? Did I do some light exercise and apply alternating heat and ice packs like everything says you should do? Did I maybe learn from all the other times over these last few years that I’ve had this crap flare up on me?

Nope!

No, I just laid and sat around the house, letting those muscles get good and tight! And I made sure to sit in only the worst chairs in my house, so all the pressure of my enormous girth could bear right down on the nerve.

It took me about a week to get smart–and angry–enough that I finally just said “Fine!” and actually started following the advice I should have been following right along:

Don’t sit in a chair for more than 20 minutes in any hour.

And after three weeks of avoiding chairs like they’re covered in leprosy; taking long, slow, easy walks; doing some light stretching; and generally babying this thing, I’ve actually managed to get mostly pain free.

But holy hell, does this thing suck. And I can tell, it’s not actually gone, it’s just dormant. It’s gone into hiding, like the Zodiac killer and big hair.

I need to get the weight off, man. That’s what’s gonna fix this. Lose the weight, take up yoga, and just never sit in a damned chair again for as long as I live.

Anyway, that’s why there’s been no updates. Typing on my phone stinks, and sitting in my office chair makes my sciatica scream like a eunuch stubbing his toe. Now that I’m finally mended up, or as near to it as I can get while I’ve still got this gut, I’ll try to get something new here every week.

And now? I’m gonna go do some old man stretching exercises and figure out what to do with the rest of my day.

Hope you have a great week!

I Don’t Have a Problem

You can never have too many domain names. Right?

Right?

That’s what I keep telling myself, and you know what? I’m sticking with it. So what if I have a half dozen web sites and blogs I barely use–or that I just redirected to somewhere else–I get by. More than that, I’m with it.

I’m one of the cool kids.

I’m hip.

I’ve got the socials and the dank memes and I have an almost-teen-aged daughter that still thinks I’m sorta cool.

And she only snickers a little when I ask her to confirm.

So I don’t have an addiction to starting blogs or registering new domain names. What I do have, though, is a brand new site–this one right here–which I will use.

Seriously.

I totally won’t post here five times and forget it.

Not gonna happen.

Probably.