Carry On

The more things change, the more they stay the same…

The Golden State Warriors won another NBA title, Manchester City bought the world’s best striker in Erling Harlen, and my Manchester United are doing absolutely nothing, except watch players fleeing due to mismanaged contracts. I think losing Jesse Lingard will return to bite them in the ass someday.

Russia is still fighting their illegal war against Ukraine.

I am still playing music I learned fifty-four years ago.

And still getting paid.

Speaking of which, I enjoyed the little bar I played in on Friday.

Joanne and Gary are awesome folks and someday I might return.

During the summer, live music is literally everywhere. Every festival features hours of performances from a plethora of artists playing the Miami valley. I remember the very first song I ever learned how to play on the guitar.

It was Eddie Floyd’s Knock on Wood.

1966.

When I was a wee lad prowling the near-pubescent girls on an air force base, I learned one of the most valuable lessons of this existence that lasted until my wedding day.

I learned that the prettiest, sexiest, best-looking girls at the Teen Club dance were waiting for the attention they craved, and desperately wanted someone to ask them to dance.

Even IF they turned you down.

The key is to program yourself to know that yes, you will be given the “squashed- bug-on-the-windshield look” by a few witless babes, but eventually you would end up dancing with one of the school’s hottest girls. You would strategically pick a slow song, of course. Like the Temptations’ My Girl, the very second song I ever learned on the guitar.

Enough with showing stories of the crazy mothers that kill their kids. The same with mass shootings, teens murdering their families, and stories of the sort where a coyote ambled down all the way down from the San Gabriel mountains way outside range and ended up on the beach.

The beach.

Unfortunately there have been several children that met their all-too early demise in the grasp of a scared and hungry wild animal that sought food.

They have to go somewhere.

So, of course, after chasing them out of their natural habitat and covering it with concrete, what is our solution?

Kill them.

The American Way.

What is it with all the adrenaline-crazy videos on my phone?

Now, I do not mind at all cruising at high altitude, because, for some strange inexplicable reason, I feel very safe on a plane. As I sit there through rough turbulence and The Thought enters your mind, the idea of crashing and dying to death in a fiery hell creeps in. I guess I just figure with all the many passengers and crew on board, God, or one of his helpers, would be watching over them, which I thought, by association, gave me better odds.

So, if you are still looking at our country’s flag with pride, if you are still teaching your children to honor truth and fact, and if you are still living an honest life, two words for you.

Carry on.

Stay well.