Morbid Infatuation

 I never considered my intense interest in current affairs as anything odd. My family always stayed connected to all the news feeds of the day. No matter where we lived, when we moved and we moved often, there was always a massive pile of newspapers, magazines, current books and even handouts to either toss or find another box to take the keepers with us. I came by my infatuation with what the rest of the World was up to honestly.

So here I am retired with serious amounts of time uncluttered by the need to make a living. Because of some medical issues, I am also not as active as I should be; or is it could be? It is indeed a tough job fighting pain of one kind or another day in, day out. So I sit more than I don’t now. Not whining, just trying to paint a picture of sorts.

With the increased traffic of news, mostly bad, being forced into my cranium, I feel a constant need to vent, rave and rant, rant and rave and blow off steam. It seems the only news I want is bad news.

Have I become a bad news addict? Have I found some kind of perverted pleasure watching the world I used to love go to Hell in a hand basket?


I have tried very hard to disengage from watching the obvious rapid disassembly of the planet. I have looked for and momentarily located perspectives I used to have, but I cannot seem to find any reason for them now.

I have been on this planet alive and kicking for 71 years. My life has been more or less problem free. Yeah, I did stupid shit as a youngster I should have probably paid more dearly for. Overall though, I have been a lucky man. In the 71 years of my life, the planet’s populations have struggled and still struggle more than they should. We are our own worst enemy, but it appears we like it this way.

I just re-read what I wrote today. I see no pearls of wisdom, wit, or any other pearl worth mentioning. But that is okay. I took a moment’s vacation from my morbid infatuation with bad news.

Ya’ll keep it ‘tween the ditches now, ya hear?

( @ 385 )

_______________________________________

During my punk years in the mid 1960s, my status at home was off and on undefined periods of house arrest. My oldest brother and I were driving somewhere on some errand for Mom. "Bad News" by Johnny Cash came on the radio. It is a tune about a bad influence, a troublemaker, a bad example no one should hang out with. As undeserved as I felt that was at the time, I will now own it. 

My brother tried his best to tag me hard with this nickname. But he soon moved away and his efforts to rename me went with him. Stumbling upon it deep in the gulliwots of the Youtube discocraphy though, did make me smile.