No Sleep for the Wickedly Cool

That’s me, don’cha know. I’m so cool, I sweat ice cubes.

OK…no. We all know that I’m a complete doofus BUT I like to put out a good front. I blow at self promo but I sure as fuck can trash-talk with the best of ‘em. Mister Muhammad Ali would be goddamn proud of me…oh yes he would.

It's hard to be humble when you're as great as I am.

The Amazing Bob just loved Ali. TAB wasn’t a boxing fan – it was Ali’s patter, his poetry and cool, witty bravado. Yup. Totally.

I'm so mean, I make medicine sick.

Some days, I absolutely believe that of myself. Kindness is my preferred mode BUT I’m nobody’s doormat (OK there’s Coco and Umlaut. Fer fuck’s sake, OF COURSE I’m their doormat – they’re cats!). Kindness and diplomacy are challenging for me now, in this time of quarantine, upcoming mega surgeries and, hopefully, the last months of the Treasonweasel Regime.

OK, truth, it’s always been a challenge but it’s more of one now.

Last night I saw a couple inane Trumpasaurus responses to a friend’s factual Shoutyface post. You know, they featured screeching all caps claims of “LIES,” “FAKE NEWS!” and more. The comments looked to have been cribbed directly from the Orange Asshole’s junior-high-bully tweets.

This particular rube’s name looked familiar so I took a gander at her profile page. Turns out, she’s one of the very few people from my hellscape high school who had been friendly, sane and nice to me. I just couldn’t feature that Linda had become a desperately dimbulbed, horror show Cult45 member. How could it be? She always seemed intelligent, sweet and mentally undamaged.

Eager to NOT accept that Linda could have become such a drooling pool of fatuous feeble-mindedness, I imagined her comments must’ve been an elaborate Andy Kaufman styled riff. They HAD to be performance art type slams of how your basic nut job 45 supporter would respond to Dan’s posts.

Which was it – performance art or imbecility? Who is Linda now? I emailed a friend of mine from Linda’s graduating class – maybe he would know. Yes, he did.

Sadly, Linda IS in fact a cretinous, christianist tool. I took a detour down the only available bright path. I blocked her. I don’t need or want that reality blind, howler monkey horseshit in my life – not now, not ever.

 Some of us, over this long life, devolve into hideous shadows of our former fresh, hopeful selves.

If they can make penicillin out of moldy bread, they can sure make something out of you.

Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they’ve been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It’s an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It’s a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing.

All of today’s quotes are from the brill, gone to soon, brain of Muhammad Ali.