Difficult to write about, this emotional state that has me in its dreary cloak.  An extremely hard to describe feeling that settles so deceptively over an unsuspecting psyche, causing things to look as from the wrong end of a bottle.  What is this strange feeling that kidnaps a sunny perception, and then disappears without reproach? What does one call it?  I refuse to call it depression; significant clinical signs are absent.  Anyway, if you should ever find the answer, please send it to me, would you? I’d appreciate it.  Meanwhile I’m left to fend for myself, and wait for it to go away, always knowing it’ll be back, once again, just as un-welcomed as now.  If possible I’d beat it to a pulp, stomp it into the ground, pour gasoline on it, and light it with a blowtorch.  Ah yes, if possible. In the old days of my youth, it, the feeling - had little chance to screw with me – because I was always on the move, or on the sauce/whatever (name your poison), yes?  No matter, for whatever the reason(s), I managed to evade it, that is – until – things started to change as I grew older, and more inclined/forced to go through life without a crutch, i.e. the sauce, the smoke, etc., etc., yes? Obviously, you might say to me – ‘this way of feeling’ could be the singular result of growing older, and all this discussion could be ‘elementary my dear Watson,’ but, I tend to doubt that it is merely the result of getting older, and please… don’t call me Watson.

 

Walking at a clip of approximately 3 mph, or said another way, a lap around the - quarter mile-walking track - every 4 minutes, he was keeping pace with an internal clock that was in a rhythm of it’s own, a tick-docking somewhere deep inside.  All the while - his other consciousness annoyed at the constant tick docking - was watching, always watching, even as the red truck pulled into the parking lot and parked.  Continuing to watch, the walking man saw a door open, and a man step out of the truck, onto the pavement. The truck had a ‘U.S. Marine’ license plate on the front bumper, and the idle thought was, “was he really a Marine - or did he just run the tag?” not that it mattered in the least.  The Marine, be him a real man or not, had a small girl with him, blond hair done up and riding on top of her head, not more than 8 or 9 years old, was the suspicion.  Stuck in the foolish man’s ear - an earpiece that without doubt was attached to some modern, musical miracle.  How deliciously stupid was that? Thought the watching man, and then wondering aloud said; “how stupid might this Marine be?”

 

We, the pupster and me, watched a Ron Howard documentary over the weekend.  “The Shadow of the Moon” is about the 24 men who went to the Moon.  Interesting show, but more interesting is that it brought up the controversy about whether or not we (U.S.) ever, really did go (to the Moon).  Now, I’m not crazy about conspiracies, but, when I really think about this country, ‘anything’ is possible, including a gigantic feint by our gov’t to fool us into thinking we really did go to the Moon, when in actuality – we didn’t.  I pulled the topic up on the WWW, and read about some possible reasons that the gov’t might do something like this.  Interesting reasons – but I was wondering if any of you all had any ideas?

 

While I was doing much of nothing today my mind wandered into a subject that I’ve thought about for quite some time now.  Seems to me that I have this uncanny knack for picking Presidential winners, at least since 1960 which was the first time Presidential politics caught my attention.  I was all of 12 years old but knew without a doubt that JFK was going to win the election. Why?  Cause I was for Nixon.  Why was I for Nixon?  I don’t really know, but it doesn’t matter in this accounting.  The important point is that I knew JFK was going to win – simply because I was for Nixon.  In 1964 I knew LBJ would win the election against Goldwater, but, so did the rest of the country.  LBJ won 49 states I believe.  Anyway, it was a landslide for the man who succeeded JFK.  In ‘68’ I knew Nixon would beat Humphrey.  How did I know?  I don’t really know how, just that Nixon would win.  I never doubted it, and in fact as we all know – Nixon did win.  In ‘72’ I knew Nixon would win re-election over McGovern, but again, so did most everyone in the country, for this was another landslide, this time for the Republican.  Too bad, he, Nixon, thought he needed extra help to win the election, which was the reason for Watergate.  The sad part to this story is that Nixon would of easily won the election without Watergate. 

 

In 1976 the country was sick of Nixon, Watergate, and the Republicans in general, hence I knew that Jimmy Carter would be our next Prez, and he was, much to our collective distress.  In 1980 I knew that the ‘California Kid’ (aka Ronald Reagan) from California (of course) would be our next Prez, and that the White House better stock up on jellybeans.  In ‘84’ I also knew that Reagan would easily win re-election, as did most of the country.   In 1988 – who didn’t know that Bush the Elder would beat that Gov from Mass., what was his name?  Hmm… I’ve forgotten, but anyway, it wasn’t even close.  In 1992, I knew without a doubt that William Jefferson Clinton, (aka Bill the Ladies Man) would win the election, after all Bush the Elder didn’t have a clue about the economy, and had pissed off the Conservative wing of his party by ‘backing up’ on his “read my lips” - No New Taxes pledge. 

 

1996 –Clinton vs. Dole, what a joke this election was.  Robert Dole never had a chance against ‘Slick Willie’ and his political machine.  Chalk up another one for Ice.

 

2000 was a little harder for me for I knew that Bush the junior would win because I wanted Gore to win. 

 

2004 - this is a 'late additioin,' because I forgot it in the original posting, but thanks to Mr. Whit I was reminded of the fact that I did not include 2004.  I also predicted this election correctly too.  I felt as if Bush would defeat Kerry and in fact as we all know, he did.  This was a particulary hard election for me - because John Kerry was a Vietnam Veteran and I "wanted" to like him.  I "wanted" to vote for him, and I "wanted" to want him to win the election.  I just couldn't do it because I felt like he'd been "planning" a John F. Kennedy style Presidential run since he first went to Vietnam with his "camera crew."  It was just too "planned" and "laid out" for me. 

 

So – there we have it.  I’m a frigging expert at predicting who will win the Presidential Election this year.

 

My prediction at this moment – Obama

 

Note:  this can and probably will change from time to time until right before November 4, 2008.  STAY TUNED

 

 

Thought for the day: The third leading cause of death, after cancer and heart disease is medical treatment. Not that hard to believe is it?

 

>Virgin Flies biofueled Jet from London

A report out of London has confirmed the speculation that, indeed, a ‘virgin’ was at the controls of a Jet out of London that landed at JFK International Airport earlier this morning.  Speculation – by 3 off-duty air controllers, 7 to be named later officials from the Performa Illinois City Council, and 12 unconfirmed administration figures - that the pilot was a virgin, was fueled by the fact that the plane overshot the runway and landed on 33^rd and 3^rd street, coming to a stop in front of “Rachel’s Reversible Dress Shop.”

 

Is this you?

seems to me I’ve spent a long time

scheming with great insight,

trying hard to figure out

how to get

where I’ve been all along

 

 

>Man clings to girlfriend’s truck during fight; then dog steals it

Police said Charlene McFiddlitity parked her pickup in front of a mini-mart Wednesday, leaving her 80-pound Boxer named Max in the passenger seat.  When she came out, both the truck and Max were gone.  McFiddlitity called Police, assuming the truck had been stolen.  During the time between calling the Police and their actual arrival, McFiddlitity’s boyfriend, Leroy, arrived and demanded the whereabouts of the pickup, which in actuality was his.  By the time the police arrived, there was no sign of truck, dog, woman, or man.  However, Security Video shown Thursday on KFUK-TV showcases the truck, with Jonathan Winters at the wheel, rolling west on Route-66.  On top of the truck a lone figure can barely be made out, clinging to the top of the speeding vehicle, while inside, Mr. Winters can be seen conversing with Charlene, who is in the passenger seat.  She is reading a book that appears to be - ‘A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose,’ which is the latest ‘hot’ book being pushed by Oprah. You can dial into this ‘craze,’ yourself - by going to Pup’s new blog – “A New Earth: Discussion Group.” 

 

Disclaimer:

By no means am I making ‘light’ of ‘Pup’s Discussion Group; on the contrary – I’ve been reading the book mentioned above, and it has snagged my interest, and caused me to look fwd to the coming … discussion.

 

Tomorrow:

In the morning we are headed for the ‘big city’ for another  ‘whirl-wind’ 500-mile overnight journey.  Upon our return to the Ponderosa, we are taking a few days off to travel to the ‘boats;’ blessed oasis in the middle of a desert of ‘all work and no play.’    

 

The Window on the Wall

While thinking all this over, from inside my mind, it occurs to me that time is ‘free-falling’ past the window on the wall.  It’s a normal looking wall, I can see where it was once painted red, and although it is now a light shade of pink, I’m wondering if it’s that way on purpose, or is it just the red – fading?  Kind of like – life you know; is life the way it’s supposed to be, or is it just – fading from view as we admire it from afar?  Even from this distance I can see through the window, and what I see on the other side is distinct, and clear, because even though there is much going on – on the other side – it’s not all that complicated – you know.

 

ice

 

p.s. if anyone sees a boxer that answers to the name of "Max" please call Mrs. Robinson as soon as possible.

Observations while walking through the Mall: It does no good.

I’m walking inside today because the outside temp is hovering around 35 degrees, and the wind is up around 15 mph, making an uncomfortable situation outside. The ‘younger generation’ catches my eye today as usual.  It’s difficult not to pay attention to these folks, mainly because they make up the majority of mall people, and, they attract the most attention.  Yeah I know what you’re thinking; Ice is just an old fogey with ‘out of step’ ideals and opinions, but, these ‘young whippersnappers’ are undoubtedly the worst ever when it comes to representing our future.  Never mind the ‘draft-card - bra burning’ crowd of my generation; we were just misunderstood, yes?

 

Anyhow, as I stroll through the mall I cannot help but notice these younger versions of myself, those of the male gender, with their hats on back-erds, pants dragging the ground, and ‘super-sized’ tennis shoes with shoestrings the size of small ropes.  What are they thinking – I think to myself.  What must be going on inside these minds, for them to dress and act the way they do?  What - is - going on in that ‘pea-brain,’ I wonder, as I check out a particular young man strolling in front of me?

 

I have to know, so, to find out, I ‘transcribe’ myself to a vapororless mist and eek into the pores of his being, sliding indiscreetly inside his consciousness. 

 

EEK! Crapola!  It’s so weird in here looking out - that I have to stop and watch (in awe) at the frigging WORLD passing me by. From my new vantage point – inside the essence of this young whippersnapper - it is indeed - a ‘scaaary’ world outside.

 

Look at that old dude with the funny hat walking by.  I bet he’s one of those ‘mall-walking’ old geezers trying to reverse 50 years of bad habits – thinking he’s going to live to be a hundred while I’ll have to bust my ass till I’m 85 - to make sure he gets his Social-Security checks.

 

Hey! That was me that just walked by.  I called myself an old geezer!  Yes I did, but I didn’t really mean it, for I have the utmost respect for these older guys.  After all, they went to Vietnam and lost their war, while we (my generation) are winning ours.  Did I really say and think that?  

 

As I watch the youngster (with my other self secretly inside his egocentric id ) stand there watching the retreating backside of the cantankerous old gent (which is really me in ‘old man’ disguise) and realize that he’s thinking those dastardly thoughts – I become fully cognizant – that - although I now know what’s going on in that pea-brain, it does me no good.   

 

ice

 

 

 

 

 

 

as real as anything,

as the ice on the windshield outside,

intertwined with coldness

like a feeling; almost a sensation,

evolving on its own while

transforming smooth, gray leather

of the steering wheel,

into hard, black plastic of the past,

pocked with cracks and fissures

neath the feel of my palms;

and out on the road,

a sign said, almost in passing,

welcome, we buy pecans,

the sky outside,

reflecting dullness - void of color,

while the day becomes as one

with all the days that came before

 

Man On The Street Interview: Sunday, 4:22 a.m.

 

Interviewer:  What do you get from that poem?

 

Playboy: that’s about some dude driving down the road with his windshield covered in ice, looking to buy some pecans.

 

Interviewer:  ‘Socrates’ was your uncle, right?

 

Playboy:  I’ll sock your ass if you insinuate anything about my uncle.

 

Interviewer:  Does it bother you to see a good-looking woman with a black man?

 

Playboy:  Yeah it does…. But, you know, it bothers me to see a good-looking woman with ‘any man,’ other than me.

 

Interviewer:  Are you voting for Obama?

 

Playboy:  Who’s Obama?

 

Interviewer:  never mind

 

 

 

CHANGE

 

This election seems to be about ‘change.’  Seems that all the candidates are promising it, as if it was in a bottle, and to effect it, one need only to remove the cap.  Obama seems to be the flavor of the month, but, the election is six-months away, so I for one, am sitting on my vote waiting to see what will happen as we go forward.  However, this is not to withdraw my previous assertion that I believe Obama will be the next Prez.

 

Putting on my shoes this morning it occurred to me:

 

I know, I know, this has been around before, and again, but, when putting on my socks and shoes this morning, it occurred to me that I was the kind of guy who puts on a sock first, then a shoe, then, I lace it up, and then – I do the other sock and the other shoe.  Strangely enough, I always do the ‘left’ foot first and then the ‘right’ one.  To me, this is the only way to do this simple chore, but then again, it’s a big world; how do you do it?

 

Observation: Concerning the poem (above) == it’s the last two lines that caught my attention for longer than usual.

while the day becomes as one

with all the days that came before

 

You know, those lines actually make sense to me, but of course, I wrote them, so, they should, yes?  Anyway, is it not true that each day becomes “as all the days that have come before?”  Do you not feel this sensation, even as a feeling, as it’s happening?  I do.  Each morning I get up and go through my morning ritual I think about how for the most part, all days are the same; it always reminds me of that movie with Bill Murray, “Groundhog Day,” a truly marvelously entertaining movie btw, if you’ve never seen it. 

 

Back to the poem: the part about the steering wheel changing beneath the feel of his hands.  This is interesting to me also; in my mind, it is me - as I drive down the road; the sun melting into the lower horizon is framed in my windshield, and I cannot help but to remember other sunsets, other days, and another life many years ago.

 

I’m in Vietnam and driving…

back to my home base; the Army truck I’m driving…

‘rickets’ along the rutted road,

with the hard black, rubber-hardened plastic steering wheel neath my hands, and memories to be remembered later,

beginning to pile up in my head

 

ice

There was a desert prairie filled with wind and sun and sagebrush and a silence that grew sweetly up in wildflowers.  There was a rail track laid across this silence and now the rail track shuddered.

 

   Soon a dark train charged out of the east with fire and steam and thundered through the station.  On its way it slowed at a platform littered with confetti, the tatters of ancient tickets punched by transient conductors.

 

  The locomotive slowed just enough for one piece of luggage to catapult out, and a young man in a summer dishrag suit to leap after and land running as the train, with a roar, charged on as if the station did not exist, nor the luggage, nor its owner who now stopped his jolting run to stare around as the dust settled around him and, in the distance, the dim outlines of small houses were revealed.

 

  “Damn,” he whispered.  “There is something here, after all.”

 

More dust blew away, revealing more roofs, spires, and trees.

 

“Why?” he whispered.  “Why did I come here?”

 

He answered himself even more quietly, “Because.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Thus reads the first chapter of the ‘Ray Bradbury’ book I started reading this morning.  The name of the book – “Somewhere a Band is Playing.”  Sounds interesting…. Only time will tell.  I’ll let you know.

 

Over 40 years ago a childhood friend of mine died.  It (his death) has in unexplainable ways shaped my life ever since; not I would say in extreme ways, but in slight, subtle ways - and as noted above, always they are … ‘unexplainable.’  - Even/especially to myself.

 

After my friend died, he left his parents, and younger brother to cope with it all.  A few years later his younger brother, upon his return from a tour in Korea while in the U.S. Air Force, went swimming at a local lake.  He disappeared from the group he was with and was found the next day in 80 feet of water, drowned.  His drowning has remained a mystery ever since.  Once again, his parents were forced to bury a child.  This one was the last one they had - they were out of children.

 

His parents, friends of my own parents, were strong religious people.  These deaths of their children ‘reinforced’ their faith instead of destroying it.  They moved to the big city.  A few years later the father went to the hospital for a routine gall-bladder operation.  He never woke up after the successful (oh really?) surgery.

 

His wife, her faith in the lord, reinforced even more, eventually moved to Florida and there she remained in the sunshine till a few years ago when she died peacefully in her sleep. 

 

Life over.

 

End of story.

 

Postscript:  I have no words for this story, other than it’s a true one.  I don’t know why I posted it.  Maybe I just felt like someone should….

 

ice