You chose it silly. Everything else is coulda, shoulda, woulda.
Now what are you going to do next?
To person with a prescription pad every problem looks like a chemical one.
As you can tell I am very critical of our current InsuroPharmaMedico Industrial Complex healthscare system. But it’s certainly better than it was before the ACA.
Good thing the Do Nothing Congress continues to do what they do best.
Criticize each other.
Glaring mistakes are never as glaring as when I make them. But there they are. As a matter of fact those errors in due course often seem to have a glow all their own. Such as the gleam in the eyes of a googly eyed romantic such as myself. But as my past glares back at me I can only say it seemed like a good idea at the time.
So as I amble down the shimmering bike path of life I know the spicy carousel of my existence has been very good to me.
Yes, even the glaring omissions I see glowering at me from a distance. But they wouldn’t be omissions if I hadn’t omitted them.
New glasses help.
It was then as I wandered in the forest preserves of my youth unassailed by any kind of Fi that my head began to swim in the past. Sure I was no longer in the moment but the reverie carousel of my days sup supped up both hemispheres of my mushy brain. Probably fired all through the lower middle parts as well.
Oh the lovely visions that swirled around. Some with the quietude of days drowning worms for easily gotten but more perilous to release bullhead. Others of Catholic School girl conquests from after school rehearsals for “Carousel” were like a clarion call to long set aside libidinous memory lures of youth. Also afore mentioned biking on mud paths reserved for the young now frequented by colorfully garbed cycling and jogging enthusiasts.
With that I am pleased that such resources are presently utilized for such ecologically economical ergonomic pursuits. A carousel that has brought us to a much better place indeed on this earthy crust.
Back in the days of irrational exuberance and before all your Spondulix was online and downloadable; Intuit came along with a little ditty called Quicken. Since we were young and the internets were dumb much of the accounts, spending, and bills required data entry rather than syncing with obtuse and arcane file formats from various financial institutions. Cash transactions required a receipt.
But since the household was hemorrhaging money, as all good job creating consumer households should, it was necessary to spend Saturday mornings trying to balance and track what was going where and why. It became clear that the only thing quick about this process was how it quickened the ex out the door weekend mornings due to the inevitable discovery of numerous and unmentioned charges that would miraculously appear on the snail mailed paper statements.
Recriminations and many a ruined weekend followed.
At the time the only thing Quicken quickened was a trip to divorce court and understanding of the quick bunny trail to financial ruin.
Now that everyone across the globe can pick your pocket with nary a reach around or how do you do, Quicken has fulfilled the catchy name’s promise.
But the question still remains. “Do you have a receipt for that?”
Once upon a time there was Ward and June.
Lucy and Ricky.
The alternative living situation of Andy and Aunt Bea.
All was well in the world. A fare for all and no fair for anyone.
You knew it wasn’t real because at best it came to you on a twelve inch black and white screen. But you let it into your brain by looking at it. You were plugged in. You were in training for reality as brought to you by…
You already had been infected by the pink eye of reading and the earwig of radio. But now you were awash in other peoples alleged “realities” from across the country.
So where and when were these Mythicalvilles?
These realities were presented to sell you things safely quarantined on your twelve inch cathode ray tube. But you were young and much better at believing than seeing.
Gimme an F
Gimme an I
Gimme an S
Gimme an H
What’s that spell?
What’s that smell?