A SPAM Call and Why I Donated $100 Bucks

I just hung up the phone after talking to Michael of the ACLU. He is a fund raiser. I was having my first day of semi good health after a major respiratory/cold. I spent the last 5 or 6 days wanting to die and hoping someone would rip out my throat. This, combined with 2 weeks of dealing with one the worst Sciata pain cycles I have had since I was a mover in my twenties, stripped away any positive happy go lucky attitude I might have previously exhibited.

So, I was feeling better but not in the best mood when a phone number that had been stalking me for a good week showed up again on my screen. I had been ignoring it as the little gnomes in the phone red flagged those calls as potential spam. Like I said, I was not in a top of the world is my oyster kind of mood.

When it rang for the 3rd time this morning, I was looking forward to passing my bad day along to whoever would be at the other end of that call. Imagine my disappointment when I discovered it was a one of my favorite causes, the ACLU.

"Hello", in an even voice, or as close to an even voice as I had in me.The hesitation on the line indicated I may not have projected a positive happy place frame of mind.

"Uh", ... a moment of silence. "Would Micheal Macrum be there?"

"What is this in reference to?" Again, I thought I was being not just civil but downright jolly. I was wrong apparently, as indcated by the moments of silence that followed. I repeated myself, only this time purposefully, not friendly.

"What is this call about? Speak up or I will virtually slam this phone down on the virtual cradle I have in my mind's eye." 

I did not cuss or yell as I just recently had decided to fight off the cranky old fart tendencies that have been growing inside me these last 5 or 6 years. It was actually my first test of my new effort at entertaining a more upbeat world view.

Then Michael made his 2nd mistake. After he gave me his bonfides; he was with the ACLU and working as a fundraiser for them. When he mentioned  the current Trump Adminstration's attack on our land of the Free and Home of the Brave cluster fuck of a nation, I cut him off.

"Let me stop you right there Bud. Trump is an asshole and I don't want to hear his name in what you may say next."

I quickly climbed up on my high horse and in 30 seconds, rattled off a vent in one breath that ended: 

"So, don't waste my time or yours trying to convince me you ACLU folks need money. You will always need money as long as evil jerkwads like Trump exist in our power structure. Don't waste your time filling me in on the daily Ethical and Moral trangressions and attacks on our Freedoms by Trump. I don't need a recap. Every day is a recap of how much of an evil asshole he is. Just give me the pitch."

I imagined later my rant may have made this guy's eyes open wider, but when I was done, hopefully made him smile. 

I have been an off and on check writer to the ACLU. I have been a fan since the days they lived up to their claim they did not play partisan politics. They were set up to defend the Constitutional rights of everyone, even the evil assholes who spoil our landscape on a daily basis.

This morning I gave them $100 dollars. Not much, but because it was one of those double the donation things, my paltry $100 turned into $200 dollars. I was certain my money would be used in a way I would most likely approve of.

In April, 1977, the ACLU was asked to defend a NAZI group in Skokie, a small burg outside of Chicago, Illinois. They rightfully claimed they were being denied their Constitutional rights of Free Speech after Skokie denied the group's request to hold a march/demonstration in downtown Skokie. That the local Nazi crew picked Skokie was on purpose. Roughly 50 %  of the residents were Jewish. The Nazis wanted to stir things up. Little did Skokie or the Nazis realize what would come of it.

It was a big thing back in the day. The court case lasted over a year with court filings all over Illinois, when it finally wound up in front of SCOTUS. A landmark verdict came down that supposedly cemented the notion of Free Speech being for everyone, including assholes.

National Socialist Party of America v. Village of Skokie -

"The Supreme Court's decision, per curiam, affirmed that the group's planned march was protected free speech under the First Amendment, and it ordered an immediate appellate review of the case."

The ACLU took a major hit from the Libtards who had historically been their loyal base. It was estimated they lost over 50,000 members as a result. They were tarred and feathered in liberal op/eds coast to coast. Their power structure took it on the chin after the board chose to follow the suit to it's conclusion. It was not about the right or wrong of the groups beliefs, it was about their Free Speech rights as written down in our Constitution. Just this one case made me a fan and a more dedicated Libtard than I was ever before.

The People's Right of Free Speech has never been in more trouble than it is today. The ACLU is still working hard to fight the onsaughts on the 2nd amendment and the Constitution in general because of the shitstorm spun up by Trump and his drooling minions of big mouths with small minds.

It appears Michael's call this morning was just what I needed. I haven't coughed once or felt the pain that runs down my leg at all since I started this post. Just this respite by itself, is worth the $100 bucks I donated.

And Oh, By the Way -  The lead ACLU Lawyer in this case, David Goldberger is Jewish.

Helen Keller and Clarence Darrow were part of the group who founded the organization.

Ya'll have a good day and come back for another visit, ya hear? 

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Since this post started with a phone call, I knew immediately what song I wanted to share. Yeah, I knew the song in my head. I just could not remember the title. I strained a tad trying to remember. I gave up with shoulders slumped and let Google do the recollecting for me.

Here is a song from the 1980s that was silly and not very complex. It represents some of the best of the quality challenged 1980s music scene for me. Too bad the band seemed to fade away without much follow up.

Here is "867-5309" by Tommy Tutone. It will invade your brain. Play it loud. Then dance and have some room around you when you start.

Gout

Of all the Old Fart ailments I have to deal with, Gout is the worst of the bunch. Before I came down with it, came up with it, or found it, I knew next to nothing about it. All I knew, it was very popular in the olden days, the Dickens days, the Shakepeare days, back when Knights were bold and fair damsels were nervous.

Gout is a type of arthritus. It is caused by an accumulation of uric acid in the joints, usually the feet, but it can crop up in any joint apparently. Staying hydrated, losing weight, and avoiding purine rich foods like seafood and red meat are some the ways to mitigate it's flare ups. I have lost weight; 60 plus pounds over the last 2 years.. I drink a lot of water. Avoiding seafood and red meat though has been an issue. Regardless, the problem is nowhere near as bad as it was a couple of years ago. 

My first experience was twenty years ago. I had a very uncomfortable and painful week and then poof, it went away. Since it came and went so quickly, i stopped thinking about it. Apparently the earlier Gout experience was just a trial my body decided to run by me and see how I fared. It sucked, but it only sucked for a week or so. My feet were like new once it went away.

Flash forward to the here and now. Gout roared back into my life a four or five years ago. Since then I have had it in both feet, one foot or the other, my wrists, and recently, it attacked my right knee. I know it is gout because of the way it comes on and the way it punishes and then disappears so quickly. The joints affected may differ but the overall experience is the same every time. 

The Gout meds I have now do a decent job of keeping the worst of it at bay, but damn, when it hits now, it can still incapacitate me.

This brings me to how much fun being old is. Experiencing a body breaking down brick by brick and a mind begining to rust through has been and is a real hoot. Everyday I wake up to pain of some kind. And now I have learned to appreciate pain. It reminds me I am alive and at this point in my life that is a good thing. I am still enjoying existence on this side the grass.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ........................................

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To hopefully offset the bummer post I just wrote, here is a repeat from more than a few years ago. Please enjoy Iz and his medley version of "Over the Rainbow" & "What a Wonderful World". And yeah, it still makes me puddle up.

Coach Runk

I was quite a jock when I was a kid, right up into college. I moved around so much as a youngster, injecting myself into the various sports available in the new locations was a great way to become accepted. And I was good at sports. Not great maybe, but I had some moments in the Sun.

At the time of my participation in various team activities, I really did not have an opinion one or another about the coaches I worked with. How they paid attention to me on a daily basis dictated how I felt about them on that daily basis. I guess it is a kind of compliment to have a coach yelling at you every day. If they cared enough to scream at me, I figured I was doing alright, just not maybe at that moment in time. Besides, Fuck em if they couldn't take a joke. That attitude right there was probably why I only had flashes of being really good.

There were two coaches I had that I will always remember. They could both be assholes, but like someone said recently about Mike Vrabel, coach of the New England Patriots; "He's an asshole, but he's an aasshole you want on your team." Both of them managed to get out of me all I had and onto the playing field.

They were both Lacrosse coaches. Captain Mickey Dimaggio coached me in high school. Coach Carl Runk was my coach at Towson State College. Both of them were not bashful about getting in my face. And now, many years later, I understand why I needed the sharp words and sometimes the literal kick in my ass. I had not yet lost the chip I placed on my shoulder as a child. That took place sometime shy of my 28th birthday. A real or verbal slap upside my head often brought my focus back into the moment. I was a better player because of them.

Mickey was not only a player when he was a young cadet at the same school I went to, he later played in college and became an All American and was inducted into the College Lacrosse Hall of Fame in 1993. He was an awesome middie who could score on our team 9 times out of 10 from the attack restraining line. And he was ruthless on defense. Just an awesome player.

I wrote a honorific post about Mickey. Check it out.

Coach Runk's background I don't know much about. But he coached in a more cerebral way, or maybe it was we were college students and not children anymore, so it just seemed he coached our minds as well as kicking our butts at practice.

The day I told Coach Runk to go fuck himself was the day I experienced his potential for anger. He grabbed me by the neck with one massive hand, lifted me up and slammed me against the wall of the gym. I will never forget the look in his eye. I knew in that moment he could and might crush my larynx, drop me in a heap and walk away like he just swatted a fly. But then a few practices later when I took out his number one middie on a faceoff in a full pad scrimmage, he complimented me on my hustle and how easily I took out his varsity star. That day I was put in the 2nd middie unit on the freshman squad. Back then, Freshman could not play Varsity.

All in all, I chuckle at the whiners who complain about coaches. Sometimes it takes an asshole to herd a group of other assholes in the right direction. In the testerone filled arena of male sports, it takes someone who can turn on their asshole mode when needed.

Coach Runk I did not like. But he was a good coach. He did make me a better player. Mickey Dimaggio I liked. I liked him a lot. But then I had other interactions with him while at Charlotte Hall. He was also a teacher. I interacted with him on a daily basis throughout the school year.

Coaches are Teachers. Teachers are coaches. They come in all colors, sizes, areas of interest. No matter what else they may be, they all have vested interest in bringing out the best in you. Some do a better job than others. Some connect better with you and some don't. I found that if I listened, most of the time I saw some improvement, whether it was sports, math, or learning a new trade. Half of the enjoyment of learning is learning how to be taught.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ...................................

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I decided to just find a song that has been an old friend since it was released in 1973. I liked Steely Dan before this tune came out. This song however, put them in my top tier of favorite music. Best studio band of all time in my opinion. Anyway, please enjoy "Bodhisattva", off their "Countdown to Ecstasy" album. 

Pleasure Makes Us Human?

It was all about Greed being good during Ronald 'the Traitor" Reagan's tenure as President during the 1980s. The Capitalists of the time took that as a license to do what they wanted with our economy. Things got way out of hand and the economic upheaval of 2008 was a direct result. Now, less than 20 years later, unbridled greed not only stuck around, it is now worse than it ever was. The national coffers are being picked clean by an elected government who is now out in the open doing the bidding of the Robber Barons from around the World.

Agree with me or not, there is no denying the fact that sleazy acts and despicable policy have once again put their stamp of approval on immoral and unethical actions from both the private sector and the government sector. There is no longer any pretense. The folks we put in charge through our votes and our pocketbooks are out in the open and in many cases laughing at us as they begin to pick our bones clean.

Greed and Hedonism have been normalized, mainstreamed, accepted.

I am no prude. I have and still incorporate what I consider a moderate amount of hedonistic activities into my daily consumptions. Of course now days, my hedonistic pleasures are vicarious mostly. And to be truthful, most of what I once thought were good times, now only bore me or often disgust me. So yeah, I guess I am becoming a prude of sorts. Assuming others my age are in similar circumstances, I would call my change, a normal evolution that comes with being an old fart. But I still look back upon the careless pleasures I partook in my young and numb years with fondness for the most part.

I found the kernels of this post in a commercial I saw on Morning Joe this morning. It was an ad about coffee, but when I saw the commercial, it meant more to me than that. In my mind, it represented the major shift in the morality/ethical index of our culture. The moral codes I used to laugh openly at and privately may have felt some guilt over; well, they are gone now like they never existed. Now the code of behaviors we used to often actually follow are nothing but lies that come out of two faced lips trying to convince us there is morality in greed; there is morality in exploitation, there is morality in hating anyone who is different. Not only is it okay, we are now allowed to derive pleasure from these previously immoral and unethical actions.

Just how the Fuck did we end up here?

I don't have an answer, but I do have an opinion on how we ended up here: Selfishness.

And as to the idea that Pleasure makes us Human, well, that is just advertising Bullshit. If you buy into it, you are one of the 8 billion reasons we are where we are.

Later ...........................................

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In a first for my blog, today I present "The Greedy Python", an animated audio kid's story I think. The connection to my post should make itself clear a moment or two into it. The whole time I was watching this, I kept thinking, this is a kid's story? Really? Wow! It presents an idea in terms all ages might enjoy. So enjoy.

For those millions of fans who stop by the BoZone for the music, here is also, "Greed", by A Killer's Confession, a metal band I have never listened to before; which just proves, there is so much untapped music out there, I will never hear it all.

Embarrassing Myself in Front of Myself

Not sure if I dare write a post this morning. My recent efforts at moderating duties some minutes ago were a real clown show. I thought I was approving a post for a group page I help moderate. Apparently I brain farted and sent it to Internet limbo instead of to the group page. Took me awhile to find it elsewhere again and repost it. I dutifully apologized in the comments and moved on.

I still felt my face flush, though no one saw the mistake or worst of all could not see my face. I hate embarrassing myself in front of myself. It is the worst kind of embarrasment I can imagine, ............ Uh well that is not exactly true. No, it is not even close to true. Over the many years I have been alive, I have managed to embarrass myself in front of others many times. It has been a chronic issue, always waiting just around a corner, only a misspoken word or misstep away. Some of those moments were definitely more embarrassing than the moment I suffered a little while ago.

As I grew up, I became used to my self inflicted uncomfortable moments. I considered them an integral part of my Life cycle. Some of us have to be the fools for the Hipper Cool Kids to maintain their aura of superiority.There has to be someone we they can laugh at. I stepped up and sacrificed my self respect like a good soldier many times. 

What I hate though is when I cause myself to flush red and no one is looking. It seems like such a waste if no one notices; especially since years ago I embraced my tendency to create laughter in others at my expense. Doing it solo does nothing for me. It just pisses me off.

So, today I decided to admit that I spent more than a few minutes floundering around and totally screwing up the job I had been tasked to perform. 

You can laugh now. It's okay. Matter of fact, I hope to see some laugh emoji's. I deserve them.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ................................

___________________________

So what song would drive home the point of my post? Don't know, but maybe my choice will add to the embarrassment I crave and deserve.

When I found this tune, I switched gears. I was going to offer up "Loser" by Beck. But then "Pepper", by Butthole Surfers crossed my feed. I have been looking for this song for many years. I just did not remember who sang it. 

Well on second thought. I am including "Loser", by Beck as a bonus.

Regardless, here is the day's offering.

Unreasonable Anxiety

The world beyond my small patch here in southern Maine is involved in the most upheaval, hate, anxiety, and discontent I can remember since the 1960s. Just like today, bad news seemed to land on our doorstep every day. The Bomb, Segregation, Assasinations, the War in Vietnam; there was always some major ugliness to deal with; some horrible circumstances that affected our lives directly. Many Americans felt totally powerless as they watched their country go to war with itself.

I feel the same kind of helplessness now, 60 years later. Just like then, I have moved from incredibility to SSDD. The Hate and Discontent still lingers though; never far from the surface I guess. 

Okay.  I tell myself:

"Move along asshole, you have chores to do. You have this to consider, that to accomplish."

 So I move along, all the while in the back of my mind, I still worry about things I have no control over.

Eventually, I will reach a limit and shut down. My shutdowns don't usually last very long; a couple of days, maybe a week, and occasionally longer. When I was a working man, I kept the essential parts of my life going. Now that I am retired, well, shutdowns for me can mean total withdrawals from almost all interactions with the world beyond my dooryard. My concern is, the times of normality are becoming fewer and further between the moments of unreasonable anxiety.

I make no apologies. I am not looking for sympathy. Just relating how it is for me now as I struggle to understand my place in a world that has once again, gone insane.

When I consider my situation and begin to wallow in the worst parts of it, I realize that I am nothing but a sniveling whiner who has had up to now, lived a life many people would have loved to have. I had to deal with trauma, and loss as kid. But not much trauma and loss. I have never been hungry; at least not in the swollen belly, haven't eaten in weeks type hungry. I have always had a roof to sleep under if I wanted it. And I have enjoyed a small circle of good friends and family who had my back when I needed it. The basics of my life have always been covered. Many folks on this planet don't even have that. 

For the most part, Life has been a breeze for me. I am one lucky sumbitch. For so many others, Life has definitely not been a breeze. Maybe I should feel guilty, but well, I often fall back on the tried but true Life lesson, "Life is not Fair". As soon as I do, the guilt comes back.

Now that I am on the downstroke, over the hill, looking towards the end, I no longer fear for myself and what might happen to me. My fears have now shifted to the future my daughter and everyone else will face twenty years from now. Where are we headed? What the Fuck are we doing about facing what might be in the future? From all the indications I am witnessing at the moment, the vision of the future I scare up is more often than not, a very dark future.

( Picture me shaking my head as I realize that what I just wrote is not what I intended to write)

I will leave this bummer of post right here and get on with my day. I do feel better though.

Later Gators ....................................

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I made finding a tune that fit the Blues I felt this morning much harder than it should have been. The post above came out of nowhere. There was no good reason to feel so down in the mouth. I had a great dream last night. I frolicked with friends next to a body of water, some times it was a stream, somethines it was a lake or pond. I rode down impossible trails and caught a humongous fish I could not identify. 

Why then, when I woke up did I feel so off. I had good news from by the doc after having my colon checked out. And just the other night I cooked a chicken and gravy meal and absolutely nailed the gravy. It was awesome. I really do not have a right to piss and moan.

I finally gave up the search and returned with my go to my favorite song about feeling down. I have used it before and will use it today. Most likely I will use it again. Here is David Bromberg with "Someone Else's Blues".

Glimmer of Hope

Well, it appears America has given itself a small moment of relief by dominating what elections there were yesterday. Nationwide, it was a bad day for the Right. And that is as it should be. The Wingers have been flaming assholes for far too long. America needed a glimmer of Hope. Yesterday, we got that glimmer; faint though it may be. Good job America, good job.

Mainers sure did their part. We bested those pesky Wingers on both of the statewide referendum questions. Even my Right Wing leaning town voted with the saner citizens of Maine.

Question One was but another out of state Winger boilerplate referendum written by Republicans from away. The GOP is trying to own elections, by creating voting choke points. The list of new rules in Question 1 look reasonable at first maybe. Take more than a glance, and it is a another effort by the Right to restrict the vote; the referendum was really about restricting access to Absentee Voting. More citizens are relying on Absentee Voting than ever before. A major reason might be the constant attacks from the Right on In Person Voting; closing polls; removing absentee boxes, the list of attacks is endless. 

Mainers won't be falling in line with the fiction of voter fraud. With few exceptions, our elections have been free of problems all the years I have been a voter. I love that for the most part, Mainers are sensible folk who hate being manipulated. Well done Maine, well done.

Question Two came about as a direct result of Maine's 2023 mass shooting in Lewiston-Auburn, or LA as we locals call it. 18 people lost thier lives because of a crazy person with a gun. This crazy person had been broadcasting his insanity for a long time; years in fact. Yet, no one, not even the Federal Government who knew he was wacked, instituted any preemptive measures to stop his slide into insanity and dangerous behavior. His family had been asking law enforcement and mental health people for help for a long time.

I struggled with this one. Preemptive removal of the rights of anyone for any reason is cause for concern. But in the long run, having this tool to use in future situations might help save lives; but only if the state uses it as intended. Stopping crazy people from doing hurtful and damaging things before they act makes sensse.

All in all, I see this mini wave of Democrat victories as a moment of relief from the nine month onslaught on our Country by Tump and his gang of morally bereft asshole compadres. 

Yesterday was a good day; enjoy and savor it. But don't waste too much time dwelling on this small victory. The real shit is yet to come.

Later .........................

____________________

I found this song. It blew me away. Enough said. Here is "Call Me Antifa", by The Resistance ( I think). 

"No Scapegoats, no shadows, no "others" to blame,

We're one fragile family under many names"

The Light Weight

Not sure how this post will end up, finish, shit the bed, meet its demise. 

I spent this last weekend prepping for another colonoscopy procedure that went down yesterday at 12:20 PM at Southern Maine Med in Biddeford, Maine. Like most folks I guess, I hate the prep worse than the procedure. 

With my third colonoscopy under my belt now, I can say I have more than a passing aquaintence with the tubular TV camera they shove up.... Well, running that image through my mind conjures up all sorts of horror scenarios and unfounded concerns; but they knocked me out and when I woke up, I did not care about anything. My only question was, how did I end up back in the recovery room with a wonderful buzz I wish had been more awake for?

The rest of my post-op day was spent prone on the couch, falling in and out of the sleep I wish I had gotten 24 hours earlier. I was exhausted and very hungry. As a good ole boy somewhere, sometime must have once said:

"I was hungry enough to eat the ass out of a dead skunk." 

So, between my moments of slumber, I cleaned out the refrigerator. 

Today was the first normal day I have had since this butt peek gig started last week. I was busy today. I was uncharacteristically productive even if I did it in Low Low gear. 5 loads of laundry; then some puttering, laundry folding, and some more puttering. About 5:30-6:00, while I cooked dinner, I starting hitting the bottle of Skrewball that has been sitting on a shelf in the kitchen the last 3 or 4 months quietly waiting for some attention. I don't usually tolerate falvored whiskey of any kind. My one exception is Skrewball. It is unique and quite tasty, especially on ice.

Over the years, I have become a casual, moderate, almost teetotaling loser. I can still hold my liquor if I stop at 3 or 4 drinks. My championship drunks are many many years behind me now. By the third tumbler of Skrewball on ice, I was borderlined shitfaced. 

To my credit, the spaghetti and meatball dinner turned out fine. The mess I left, well, not so fine. I guess I should be thankful I did not have to clean the floor.

With a full belly and more than several Skrewballs on ice mingling with the pasta, meatballs and sauce, I came in here to my office, my man cave, the small room I waste time in; and I sparked up some doob. I had no goal in mind, just riding the buzz for all it was worth I guess. As it turns out, the doob might have been one or two tokes over the line. I ended up on the couch with the Whirlies. ........ I'm better now and trying to make some sense of this day that got away from me and the previous week that still haunts me.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ......................................

_______________________

It'd be so easy to pick one of my go to tunes that glorify the Demon Rum. Before I use a fall back choice though, I will spend some time looking for music I have never used before.

My search did not last long. I remembered a tune from my favorite Bluegrass and Blues artist in the 1970s. Here is David Bromberg with "Sloppy Drunk". Definitely a great whiskey sippin song.