Here’s the Thing

I never FEEL like exercising. Nope. It’s always, ALWAYS, a battle with myself to get up and do even the most simple of my daily rehab routines. So, guess what—I don’t do them every single day.

Am I lazy? Yes but that’s not really the main determinant here. Honest!

Other factors?
It’s December. It’s cold and windy outside and rain is in the forecast for every single damn day this week. We definitely need the hydration but walking in wet, blustery, near freezing temps is no easy feat for yours truly.

Because of my badly banjaxed balance system (an unavoidable consequence of those zillion and three brain surgeries), I need to focus, really concentrate when I walk—even on clear, calm, balmy days.

Balance information provided by the peripheral sensory organs—eyes, muscles and joints, and the two sides of the vestibular system—is sent to the brain stem. There, it is sorted out and integrated with learned information contributed by the cerebellum (the coordination center of the brain) and the cerebral cortex (the thinking and memory center). (source)

Staying upright AND walking (which I MUST do in order to rebuild strength, endurance, and balance) when the sky’s leaking and blowing into my wonk-ass eyes, is a significant challenge and ridiculous annoyance. The more I walk, the more my muscles and joints remember how to keep me upright. Right now, maintaining vertical orientation, even when standing indoors on an even surface, is an accomplishment.  

Fear gets in my way. What am I afraid of? Falling. Falling totally sucks.

I also fear failure. What if I can’t walk as far as I want? What if my knees hurt too much to elliptical even for a measly five minutes? What if I’m unable to do 10 reps (or even one rep) of my very basic homework exercises?

What to do? If I can’t hit my goals at noon, I can try again at 2PM. If my bod’s still in no-can-do mode, I’ll try again later OR give it another go tomorrow. Sometimes, what I need is a day off for both my body and mind.

I’ve managed, over the past couple months, to work up to five or six exercise days per week (up from four). I’m also averaging greater distances and more time on the elliptical. Yea me!

Tomorrow I have physical therapy at the Y. After my session, I’ll sit and rest for 5-10 minutes and then attempt  a couple laps of the indoor track. My new PT and I discussed goals last week. Long term? Walking without assistance—no rollator or walker. Short term? Being able to stand, walk, and elliptical for longer and longer periods. Every brain surgery (and I’ve had three—plus three spine surgeries—in the past five years) sets me back but I get back up again.

Hi, my name is Sisyphus—how you doin’?

Harry Bliss

Dante’s Inferno Updated

Dante Alighieri wrote his famous poem WAY the fuck back in the 14th-century. The Inferno describes Dante’s imagined tour of Hell, guided by the Roman poet Virgil. We’re now in the 21st—maybe it’s time for a wee update.

Like Dante, I’ve passed through the gate of Hell, which still bears the inscription “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” Directly underneath though, someone has spray painted (for visitors, not incoming residents) “but bring an extra tote to hold all of your schadenfreude.” My guide was the Beat poet Gregory Corso.

By the by, the abandon hope part? My friends who went to MIT claimed this was the intended inscription for the school’s entrance. Somehow the banner reads “Established for advancement and development of science, its application to industry, the arts, agriculture, and commerce” instead.

We first enter the Vestibule of Hell. Similar to Dante’s mine will contain the uncommitted— those who didn’t take a side in life.

My Inferno’s vestibule inhabitants will be all those who didn’t vote in November’s election. Their reasons might include:

• Laziness—those who couldn’t be arsed to put down the Game Boy and get off the couch to save democracy.

• The willfully blind and uninformed who refused to see how trump and his grossly incompetent lackies’ bungling incompetence would be any different than a Harris/Walz administration.

Instead of relentlessly being chased by swarms of wasps and hornets (as in Dante’s version), my head-up-their-ass types will receive constant phone calls from life insurance telemarketers. They’ll always have to answer the phone, must actually listen to the salesweasel’s full song and dance, and are unable to hang up.

We now proceed on our tour of the nine, updated, circles of Hell.

Circle One:
Dante’s contained the unbaptized and the virtuous pagans. Not in mine. Shit, being baptized doesn’t endow anyone with anything besides a wet forehead. ALSO, virtuous pagans are admirable role models. 

 My first circle is reserved for the theoretically well meaning yet stunningly clueless. These will include:

• Protest voters who believed that voting for Jill Stein or writing in Bernie would send a message to the Dems, save the Palestinians, and end all war.

• Healthcare providers who talk to Jen or Ten, instead of me—the goddamned patient—during an appointment (I have a tablet with LiveTranscribe running for a reason, you twat!).

• Anyone who talks down to me as though I’m mentally frail. I’m deaf, not stupid, you ignorant, wet sock!

Their punishment? No computers or cellphones, no internet, and all they get for dinner until the heat death of the universe is raw kale and cold, unseasoned mashed potatoes.

Circle Two:

In Dante’s world? Lust, as in, those consumed by their appetites, the grossly self-indulgent. I’ll go with that. Specifically, in my Level Two world, you’ll find:

• RFK jr. gnawing on dead bear cubs whilst sexting with or sexually assaulting random young women.

• TFG downing Big Macs and Cokes while raping women who look like his daughter.

• Pete Hegseth, the perpetually drunk rapist and serial sexual harasser. 

They will be visited nonstop by Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses. They must answer the door, sit through the preaching and read the pamphlets while a herd of cats puke on their shoes. 

Circle Three:

Dante? Gluttony as in greed or excessive indulgence (not just food). Works for me. On this level we have:

• The Orange Twatwaffle for obvious reasons.

• Space Karen—richest man on the planet but, apparently, there’s never enough.

• Jeff Bezos—the second richest man on the planet steals tips from Amazon delivery drivers (whose average pay is around $20 bucks an hour).

• Health Insurance CEOs

Occupants of this ring will be bussed to an underpass in Buffalo, New York where it's always winter. They must dumpster dive for their dinner and tap dance for pennies thrown by drag queens wearing Coco Chanel and Carolina Herrera.

Circle Four:
Greed. See Circle Three.

Circle Five:
Wrath. Merriam Webster defines wrath as strong vengeful anger. This level of Hell will contain:

• Trump, all his sycophants and minions

• J. Edgar Hoover

• Franklin Graham

just to name but a few world class tiny dicked rage-a-holic haters. They will suffer the long, withering glares of Ellen Ripley as she menaces them with her flamethrower. When Ellen needs a break, Cookie Monster will come in and devour them whole.

Circle Six:
Dante chose heresy for the sixth circle. I’m going with liars. You know, the shitheels who spread rumors, lies, and utter bullshit.

The flaming, tangerine twat (of fucking course) who told well over 30,000 lies during his first administration and hasn’t stopped there, will be the main rotted turnip brain here. If his mouth is open he’s lying. Frankly, all other liars now and in history pale in comparison to incoming Prez Pinocchio.

He'll be tormented and tortured forever by a fleet of naked Vanky clones, who all stand just outside his reach. The clones will ridicule him mercilessly—telling him exactly what world leaders say about him, how stupid and inadequate he is on every level, and then they'll all point at his malformed mushroom and loudly, uproariously laugh.

Circle Seven:
Violence. Dante divided this circle in three levels.

The first round was for murderers, war-makers, plunderers, and tyrants. They were immersed in Phlegethon, a river of boiling blood and fire. Fair.

The second level of this seventh circle is the Wood of the Suicides. I call NO FAIRS! WHY are suicides in Hell at all? How much of an asshole are you to send someone who’s terminally depressed and without hope into an eternity of being encased in a tree that’s preyed on by harpies. Robin Williams, Virginia Woolf, Nick Drake, and others do NOT deserve Hell.

The third ring is for assholes who commit violence against god, art, and nature. I don’t see how anyone could go volcanic against god, a mythical creation but //shrugs// that’s probably just a failure of my imagination.

In my Inferno, there’s only two rooms in this seventh level.
One is for those who prey on and kill (whether by their own hand or not) those innocents without adequate defenses. Yes, this includes Trump, healthcare CEOs, and Netanyahu.

The second room is for violators of the planet, oil industry execs, trophy hunters (hello, Trump spawn), plastics manufacturers, and chemical pesticide spewers.

Punishment? They all will be transported to February 13, 1945, Dresden, Germany. They must survive the bombing or face being locked in a Battle of Khe Sanh time loop.

Circle Eight:
Dante named the eighth circle of Hell ‘Malebolge.’ Roughly translated this means ‘evil-sacks of shit.’ Fraudsters—this planet is infested with them.

He also included thieves, hypocrites (the entire Republican Party), people who give fraudulent advice (*cough* anti-vaxxers like RFK jr.), and sowers of discord (think Rush Limbaugh, Tucker Carlson, Sean Hannity, Box Wine Jeanine Pirro, and that type of slime).

I’m with Dante on this one.

Punishment? They must all be scolded and lectured 24/7, for eternity, by Gilbert Gottfried and Fran Drescher. Simultaneously, I'll release a tornado of my stinkiest brussel sprout farts on them.

Circle Nine:
This one’s for betrayal and treachery. Obviously Trump is here too as are Nixon, Bush jr., Tom Homan, Ric Grenell, Kash Patel and on and on.

Punishment will include being forced to sift and clean litter boxes, thrice daily, for 200 cats who are awfully fond of black beans. The miscreants must do this while fending off attacks from combat ready Canadian geese.

These are just my quick thoughts on a new 21st century inferno. I expect I'll come up with fresh punishments as time passes.

Getting In The Spirit

You know what Wednesday’s events puts in my mind? Yes, you guessed it, the movie Scrooged. The best part of the flick, of fucking course, is Carol Kane as the Ghost of Christmas Present

Ghost of Christmas Present : Close your eyes...! And think of snowflakes and moonbeams and whiskers on kittens...
[She notices Frank peeking and goes to jab his eyes with two fingers] 
Ghost of Christmas Present : Nooooo peeking!
[Frank blocks the jab and closes his eyes] 

Ghost of Christmas Present : Of rainbows, forget-me-nots... of misty meadows and sun-dappled pools. Oh, look! There’s Mr Hedgehog. I wonder where he’s going? Perhaps to HARLEM!
[She punches Frank] 
Frank Cross : My jaw!
Ghost of Christmas Present : Sometimes the truth is painful, Frank.
[She slaps his face] 

~~~
Ghost of Christmas Present : Oh, what is this, Frank? Oh, oh look, Frank! It’s a toaster!
[hits him in the forehead with the toaster] 
~~~
Ghost of Christmas Present : Don’t vex me Frank, or I’ll fix your mouth so it won’t hold soup.

She really had the best bits.

David Johansen as the Ghost of Christmas Past was pretty awesome too.

Frank Cross : I get it. You’re taking me back in time to show me my mother and father, and I’m supposed to get all goosey and blubbery. Well, forget it, pal, you got the wrong guy!
Ghost of Christmas Past : That’s exactly what Attila the Hun said. But when he saw his mother... Niagara Falls!
~~~
Ghost of Christmas Past : Let’s face it, Frank. Garden slugs got more out of life than you.
Frank Cross : Yeah? Name one!  

The Ghost of Christmas Future isn’t particularly memorable but I expect they had a few good lines too.

Some fun movie trivia:

Bill Murray ad-libbed most of his lines. In a 1988 interview with Philadelphia Daily News, Richard Donner discussed Murray’s penchant for improvisation and described the experience of directing Murray as follows: “It’s like standing on 42nd Street and Broadway, and the lights are out, and you’re the traffic cop.”
~~~
When Frank throws water on the waiter he sees burning, he says, “I’m sorry. You know I thought you were Richard Pryor.” This is a reference to an event in Pryor’s life when, while freebasing cocaine, accidentally set himself on fire and ran down a busy street in Los Angeles.
~~~
Carol Kane would get upset at having to “rough up” Bill Murray in their scenes together.
~~~
When the Ghost of C Present first appears in the movie, she says to Frank Cross, “I’m a little muddled.” This is a direct quote from Glinda the Good Witch in The Wizard of Oz (1939) when she first meets Dorothy in Munchkinland.

Wouldn’t it be great if Carol Kane’s scolding, pugilistic Ghost of Christmas Present visited Elon, TFG, and every goddamned CEO on this bleak, cursed, lunatic planet? I’m not religious in any way but, I could see myself getting into the Christmas spirit if it involves rich fucks getting schooled by her.

The Hit

It’s not a long, hard reach to understand why me and so many others aren’t shocked or broken up about the assasination of an insurance company’s CEO. Especially not the CEO of United Healthcare, the so-called “insurance provider” that denies a third of all claims.

Since Covid began, UnitedHealthcare has been declining record numbers of claims and has been making record profits. It’s hard to cry (or give so much as a fuzzy goddamn) for someone who lives off blood money.

In yet another story about the damaging effects of faulty artificial intelligence, the largest health insurance company in the US, UnitedHealthcare, is being sued over claims it is using a flawed AI model. The system is said to have wrongfully denied health coverage to critical elderly patients and disagreed with doctors’ determinations.
~~~
The lawsuit alleges that the AI system has a 90% error rate and overruled the post-acute care opinions of physicians.
~~~
Another damning section of the suit claims that while only a few patients appealed coverage denials that were based on nH Predict estimates, over 90% of them were reversed through internal appeals processes or federal Administrative Law Judge proceedings.
~~~
Former NaviHealth employees told Stat that once UnitedHealth took over, the focus moved from helping patients to making money and keeping post-acute care times as short as possible. (source)

Go read the whole article at TechSpot—it’s fascinating and more than a little horrifying in a robots-take-over-the-world kind of a way.

While United Healthcare was busy adding insane financial distress to those of us not in possession of fab health, Brian Thompson (the dead suit) raked in an annual compensation package of $10.2 million. Gee, seems fair since, under Thompson’s watch, the company’s profit rose to over $16 billion smackers (up from $12 billion in 2021).  Of course, this was done at the expense of the sick and/or elderly people who paid steep monthly bills for the thrill of having their claims denied.

Wealth disparity and no access to healthcare is, understandably, enraging people. This is only gonna get worse.

I’m not going to mourn for a health insurance CEO who makes big-ass bucks while thousands die from lack of insurance or are thrown into poverty by healthcare expenses. Before the Affordable Care Act as many as 45,000 people died EVERY YEAR due to lack of coverage. The Tangerine Twat wants to murder the ACA and return us to that hellscape.

The words “deny,” “defend” and “depose” were discovered by detectives on the shell casings found at the scene where Thompson was killed, police sources told ABC News late Wednesday evening.
~~~
Detectives believe the gunman is not a professional killer, sources said. (source)

So, was the shooter (a white guy, BTW) an outraged citizen who’s been paying his premiums only to have his claims denied due to a soulless corporation with a seriously flawed algorithm?

OR was this in some way about the DOJ insider trading investigation? Was the shooter a supremely pissed off stockholder?

UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson was one of several senior executives at the company under investigation by the Department of Justice when he was gunned down outside a Manhattan hotel on Wednesday.

Thompson — who was killed in what police called a targeted shooting outside the Hilton hotel in Midtown — exercised stock options and sold shares worth $15.1 million on Feb. 16, less than two weeks before news of the federal antitrust probe went public, according to a Crain’s New York Business report from April.

The stock price dropped sharply after the revelation that the DOJ was investigating whether the company had made acquisitions that consolidated its market position in violation of antitrust laws, a source familiar with the probe told the outlet. (source)

Thompson was CEO during one of the most horrifically greedy periods in the history of the company. Since Covid began they’ve been declining record numbers of claims and have been making record profits. It’s hard to cry for someone living off blood money

Oh, on top of all that, UnitedHealth claims one of their subsidiaries fell victim to a cyberattack by a Russia-based ransomware gang. They stole more than six terabytes of data, including "sensitive" medical records. Were Social Security numbers taken? I’ll bet they were. If UnitedHealth is your carrier, it’d be wise to ditch them if you can.

UnitedHealth did now (sic) reveal how much…it paid the hackers to have their systems restored. However, multiple media sources at the time, including Wired Magazine, reported that a ransom payment for the amount of $22 million was made to BlackCat in the form of bitcoin. (source)

Meanwhile, Blue Cross Blue Shield in Connecticut, New York and Missouri has announced it will no longer pay for anesthesia for the full length of some surgeries. If the procedure goes over a certain time, anesthesia will not be fully covered.

I’m guessing the BCBS CEO, Kim Keck, doesn’t follow the news.

Space the Final Frontier

When asked for a writing tip, Stephen King said make readers care about the people in your story.

Yes! Related, we watched the first episode of The Expanse the other day. There will not be a viewing of the any further eps. NONE of the characters were in any way relatable or knowable—more like cardboard cutouts. Stick figures. Best I could tell, it wasn’t the skills (or lack thereof) of the actors. It was how they and the scenes were written. It was entirely unclear as to who was good and who was an evil, conniving monster.

Who WERE these people? How about a wee bit of context, hmmmmm? Also, WHY was there only one woman on the crew and why was she the only Black person? Does space lack people of color? Did they kill two quotas with one stone by making the sole woman Black?

WHAT’S my motivation for giving a damn about any of them? Can I have some damned exposition?

A hardened detective begins an off-the-book investigation of a missing heiress in the series premiere of this futuristic thriller; at the same time, the captain of the ice-freighter Canterbury inquires into a distress call from a mysterious derelict ship. (source)

There was a hardened detective? A missing heiress? Maybe their scenes were performed in an alternate dimension’s version of the show? Could I have fallen asleep mid ep? All I saw was a half dozen bland folk in a small, ratty, banjaxed spaceship who were running out of air. They’re finally rescued (sort of) but the rescuers are, possibly, bad guys. Tune in next week to find out!

Eh, no thanks.

The show is based on a book series by James S. A. Corey (pen name of authors Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck). I guess, in order to understand the story line, I should have read the books first? I wonder if the written form has better character and story development.

Jessica Rabbit comes to mind. I’m not bad, I’m just drawn this way.

Related, I read that we’re on the cusp of an alien invasion. Are these the same aliens that Braintrust Boebert was quizzing about during a House Oversight Committee meeting?

Are these the same as the ones she says live in the ocean? Are they heading home? Will they take me with them? Is this the long awaited and hoped for (by me and a fuckton of other sane Americans) rescue mission?

JPL-Caltech

I’ve read that there will be battles in the sky between UFOs and the military and that the aliens will even attack their fellow aliens. Why would they do this last bit? Are there two different alien races fighting over who gets to take us home? If Vulcans are involved, I hope they win. It’d be a real treat to live in a society based in logic and facts. I’m figuring there are no MAGAts on Vulcan.

Oh wait, the invasion was supposed to happen yesterday and, dammit, I missed it! Did the air battles only happen in, say, D.C. or maybe Berlin? I didn’t see anything unusual here in Boston. Was anyone taken onboard/beamed up? Did they take TFG (That Fucking Guy) and his minions? I suspect not. It’d be hard to get the stench out of the upholstery.

Things to Call Annoying People (and miscreants)

The Brits have a wide variety of amusing slams that don’t employ the vulgarisms of which I’m so fond. Fer instance:

Muppet
     An airhead or incompetent person
You absolute muppet, you voted for the man who makes sewer clowns look sane and smart.

Turnip
     A stupid or slow person
Stop being such a mashed turnip—of course the price of mobiles will double and triple as soon as the orange muppet starts with his tariff nonsense.

Numpty
     An incompetent or unwise person
Only a stone numpty would trust the tangerine turnip about anything.

Div/Divvy
     Short for "divot," meaning a stupid person
Stop being a melted div and pay attention to what these numpties do, not say.

Plank
     Someone who's notably stupid
MAGAts—they’re all thick as planks with ten coats of paint.

Tosser
     Someone who behaves like an idiot or engages in questionable behavior
The second he’s sworn in that fluorescent, weaselly tosser is going to run to Putin, his puppet master, with all the state secrets.

Wet Sock
     Someone who's being spineless and useless
Even Susan Collins, the wet sock, has “concerns” about tosser Trump’s cabinet nominees.

Wet Noodle
     Limp or flaccid, such as a pasta that has been soaked in water
The Fascist Party’s Speaker of the House, Mike Johnson, is nothing but a wet noodle—and that’s on his best days.

Butters
     Ugly or unattractive
How is it that so many of the tangerine tosser’s devoted sycophants have had nearly identical, truly nasty plastic surgery? They look absolutely butters.

I think we can expand on these no-naughty-words slams.
How about:

Expired Coupon
     Someone truly useless but keep hanging on, hoping to  be valued again
Ted Cruz is an expired coupon. A limping toad would make better use of the oxygen he’s currently sucking down.

Gannet
     A greedy person
Leon MusKKK is nothing but a drug addicted, racist, misogynistic, clueless gannet.

Gas Station Sushi
     Sushi that is purchased at a gas station. It’s badly prepared, not safe to eat, and usually stale too. Only RFK jr would eat gas station sushi. In short, a really bad and dangerous idea.
Kash Patel for FBI director? RFK jr. as Health and Human Services lead? Tulsi Gabbard in charge of national intelligence? These people make gas station sushi look smart and appetizing.

Wonky Grocery Cart
     A shopping cart with one annoying malfunctioning wheel.
I’d name Lindsey Graham as the wonky grocery cart of congress except for the fact that NONE of his wheels work to factory specs.

Pick-me
     Someone who is attention-seeking or trying too hard. They act against the interests of their own group in the hope of obtaining majority favor.
Nancy Mace, Marge Greene, and Lauren Boebert are all ludicrously inane pick-mes.  

Blatherskite
     A person who talks at great length without making much sense.
The ballistic sewer clown who’s been elected to the highest office in the land is nothing but a gibbering blatherskite.

See, I’m counting on remaining amongst the living, snarking, and slamming for awhile longer. Given this, I need to enhance and augment my arsenal of insults. After all, even I can become weary of the usual profane descriptors.

What To Do, What To Do?

I won't react to every cheap-ass, grifting carnival stunt he and his obscenely corrupt clown car of a party perform. This is self care.

I'll help those in need when, where, and however much I’m able.

I will recognize and ignore ragebait (i.e., any posts, "news," or general content whose only purpose is to provoke anger). Getting upset over every obscenely wretched and vile thing he, his minions, and fans say/do is not sustainable. Prolonged rage and stress hurts our minds, bodies, and relationships. Ignoring the damage that TFG (that fucking guy) and his criminally sycophantic renfields do isn’t going to move the ball of sanity and righteousness downfield either. Both routes are impractical for those of us who neglected being born into a healthy body with wealthy families. Gotta find a way to stay engaged and informed but calm.

I will avoid corporate media/propaganda which support and donate to Trump. Where to find reliable, fact based news sources? Right now, I’m still avoiding much of the news, especially the mainstream media. When I’m ready, I’ll return to The Guardian, the BBC, NPR, and Local Futures.

Click on this link for a four page PDF of assholes to ditch (if you haven’t done it already). The only surprise for me was Marvel Entertainment—so long superhero movies and Silver Surfer comics. Also, at Gloria Steinem’s site there’s a list of Trump-free shops and products as well as more companies worthy of boycott. DO check out the Grab Your Wallet site. Wherever possible, I’m only spending money in stores/companies which haven't surrendered to fascism.

Change begins on a local level and grows. This is PART of why Jill Stein has never won and never will. If you want to run a 26.2 mile marathon, you must first be able to walk a single block. Google your town's elections and VOTE. I want to find local resistance organizations too. Given that I’ve evolved into a misanthropic, deaf introvert, this one’s gonna be difficult.

Food security. After the mass deportations begin, after the tariffs fuck up all the domestic farms and the imported food stuffs, what will we have to eat? Remember growing weed with grow lights in your basement? Maybe it’s time to set up those lights again—plant tomatoes, green beans, carrots, spinach, etc. Instead of Victory gardens, call it Resistance Gardens.

Problem—our basement space isn’t big and we have a postage stamp of a yard. There’s not enough room to plant all the food we need.

Ten suggested that we could get a couple pallets of Meals Ready to Eat. I’ll have to look around and see if there are any vegetarian MREs available OR I can investigate how to make my own.

I have a very small platform here but I intend to amplify every bullshit dick-slammed-in-the-door move he makes. No, Tell Me A Story isn’t going to become a complete ragified political blog. This old joint’s always been eclectic and personal—i.e., how are my friends and I affected by and dealing with these purely theoretical public servants. Also, what books, teevee shows, adventures, and health issues am I engaged with now. I aim to continue on this path.

I want to live to see America recover. Given NF2 and my age, that may not be possible. All the same, I will keep up with my rehab regimens—exercising, building physical, emotional, and intellectual strength.

I only mention it but eight out of the top ten trading partners of the U.S. don’t allow convicted felons to enter either upfront or by denying them if their criminal record is discovered.

In total, 38 countries are decidedly uncool with convicted felons. This includes the U.S. If the Mango Menace was, fer instance, wanting to visit Mar-a-Lago from Lithuania, convicted felon that he is, he would be denied entry.

I'm good with this.

Being An Old Adult

Jamie Hewlett

Yes, there’s a fuckton of shit that’s awful and stupid about being on the backside of adulthood BUT there ARE some finer, more fun bits too.

Such as?, you may be pessimistically asking. Well, lemme just lay it out for you.

*   If I’m of a mind to lay in bed reading back issues of comics like Tank Girl and Silver Surfer all day, I can do that. Who’s gonna stop me? Ten, Jen, Kevin and Oni? Cake, Skitter, and Walter? Oh pleazzze. They’re more apt to grab snacks and bevs and join me.

*   If some troll-ass miscreant is annoying me on social media I can make them disappear. Blockety, Block, Block. This isn’t high school with teachers, fellow students, and coaches ignoring the bullies abusing me (or being the bullies themselves). My mother’s not around to fluff me off with bullshit advice (ignore them and they’ll go away; they pick on you because they like you; they’ll get bored and stop—they did but not until the ringleader got knocked up in our senior year). AND Mother’s not gonna tell me to be nicer to the brother who threw me across rooms, broke my bones, and brought home his friends who’d threatened to kill me.It's nearly 50 years on and I'm still thrilled down to the atomic level that home is a safe place.

*   While not quite as accomplished as Cake, Sktter or Walter, I've learned how to relax withOUT having had a martini or two first.

*   Being retired means that I don’t need to be painfully diplomatic to rude, idiotic coworkers. I only mention it but diplomacy is mega important and I’m sincerely glad I got the hang of it (eventually but better late than not at all). Still, for me anyway, being diplomatic’s some wicked heavy fucking work.

*   Being a not-young-at-all woman means that I’m more or less invisible to most men on the planet. I don’t miss the unsolicited dick pics and other unwanted cringe-tastic attention AT ALL.

*   I don’t feel guilty for having boundaries. Mother raised me to be a servant, a nursemaid, a caregiver to everyone who isn’t me. Daddy, on the other hand, told me to be myself and NEVER be a doormat. Yeah, it was confusing as hell. I always felt like I was the center of a tug of war. Luckily, I’m more like my father.  

*   I’ve got a hell of a lot more self-confidence now than I did at 25, 35 or 45. I like myself. Yeah, I still have regrets and continue to do boneheaded things (like endlessly, needlessly putting off finishing my tax prep) BUT, on the whole, I’m more accepting and forgiving of myself than I used to be.

*   I can see some, if not all, of my finer qualities. Such as?  

• Without being a doormat, I can be kind and caring. If I’ve got the dosh, time, and/or energy to spare to help someone out, I will.

• I don’t see the world through a monochrome filter (which is NOT the same as bothsidesism. NO, there is NOTHING worthwhile about Trump’s nazis/MAGAts. They’re a waste of air). 

• Like the Chumbawamba song proclaims:

     I get knocked down
     But I get up again
     You're never gonna keep me down

• I’m an angry old bee BUT I’ve learned to evaluate, measure, and direct my rage and act accordingly. That is, I haven’t killed anyone for their entitled, penis-brained, coldhearted inanity.

Yet.