A Rose in December
In my mind there is an empty place where a memory should be. I know that it happened because all of my family tells me that it did. In fact, in many ways it was the defining moment of my destiny; a moment to which I attribute my deepest passion. But of the actual moment, I have no actual memory.
Years later there would come a moment that I recall with the greatest clarity. Yet no one – not one – of the people that I know were there – can recall the incident.
Is out memory less a factual record of things than a general tome of the past? Is it true that “memory is a complicated thing, a relative of the truth, but not it’s twin?”
In a decade, two, a generation and more, what will be the memory of the last two years? People tell me that they will never forget what has been done.
History tells me differently…
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Whoopi's Vacation
The news this morning informed me – multiple times – that Whoopi Goldberg will be on vacation for the next two weeks. Two hours into the local morning news program there has not been a single mention of the Russian rejection of the US diplomatic note sent yesterday in replay to Russia’s security demands.
The problem with Whoopi Goldberg’s comments that led to her going on vacation is that there virtually zero discussion of WHY she was even talking about the holocaust in the first place.
And THAT reason should piss you far more than what Whoopi had to say about it…
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Smoking a Toad
TRIGGER WARNING: Dave is borderline unhinged this morning. If you are one of “those people” who pretend to be “offended” by adult language and tautology you’ll probably want to skip this episode. - Producer Henri
Some days I wonder – seriously wonder – why I bother to even get up and look at the news.
Look, I get it… I’m closing in on sixty years old and I regularly have to look up shit on the Urban Dictionary because I have zero clue what something means. I don’t watch Tik Tok because 95% of them make no sense to me. At. All. I regularly wear my favorite Rolling Stones T-shirt, and basically every joint in my body makes a loud creaking and popping noise every time that I move.
I get that for 99.99999999999999999999999% of the world population I am completely irrelevant. Most people don’t give a flying fornication what I think about anything. and I’m fine with that.
But for the life of me, I do not get the whole “attention whore” ideology that infects our society today. It’s as if Andy Warhol was off by a factor of several hours. I can’t imagine what he would have said if Social Media had been around.
Anyway, in the middle of the ramp up to World War III, the Corona virus “pandemic,” the Norks throwing missiles around, West Taiwan threatening Taiwan, the impending end of the NFL season, and the stupid frog in our front yard that won’t shut up at night, I learned today that “celebrities” are now “openly talking about” how they are relieving the stress of being fabulously wealthy, popular and socially relevant.
I swear to the Deity, I was absolutely certain that at least one of them was already dead…
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It's Not Enough To Say It
A rather remarkable thing happened last week at a local book store. That remarkable thing led Dave down a path that leads to Joe Rogan, Mark Lye, and to O’Brien’s simple question: “How many fingers do you see?
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