A Tuesday Sort of Day

blue-fishing-boat

 

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Whataburger is changing its name to Whataburger-Battleship because its service is so hit-or-miss.

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If acupuncture exists (using precisely-located needles to alleviate pain), surely there is such a thing as inacupuncture wherein the person administering it simultaneously inserts 100+ needles into the patient via blowgun.

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Literary/Culinary review: I’m not saying my last foray for Italian food was a catastrophe but I decided to name the review “Midnight In The Olive Garden of Good and Evil.”

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Given Marjay’s absence from social media, I’d like to tell you a joke: Do you know why her own husband, Officer Mike,  had no choice but to issue her a traffic citation after she finished teaching for the day? She got caught grading on a curve.

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Regarding the oft-stated desire to be able to avoid seeing undesirable posts on Facebook: if people are being honest what they really are saying is they don’t wish to see posts that they disagree with no matter how heartfelt the content or how personal the message. It is a subtle and constant reminder that we might be quite wrong about something: or worse – that logic and critical thinking aren’t as important as we fool ourselves into believing.
Learning ocurs only when you replace opinion or ignorance with another truth. Some of us share only things that are meaningful, personal or with our own twist to it. We are doing it right. Those with the dullest ax to grind tend to also be the ones with both the tendency to repost what another person has said or made and display a resistance to considering that other opinions might have a toehold on truth. Facebook is just a mirror or window, depending on how you see your role in using it to enrich your life. It can be both road and roadblock, just as your own real relationships work in life.

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“Trump: He loves to refer to himself in the turd person.” – X

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(These comments refer to an Arkansas football player, Jeremy Sprinkle, who was caught shoplifting at Belk’s.)

This post from a dude named X who is not a sports fan (but who is bemused by the grandiosity of sports commentary): It’s so weird that someone named Sprinkle would be capable of doing something so boneheaded. Say the words, “They booked Sprinkles!” with a straight face. Go ahead – you can’t do it.

I had to google the phrase “Tandoori marl shirt” because I live in Arkansas and get all my shirts at the gym when people aren’t looking. Listen, I’m not intentionally mocking larceny or anyone who willingly hurts himself to play college sports under the tutelage of another grown man who earns $11,000 a day to holler at young adults and film a reality tv series – but my inner-comedian is howling with the never-ending litany of one-off jokes, one-liners, and irony inherent in the incident.

He wasn’t suspended for shoplifting; rather he was suspended for attempting to do so. (It’s the thought that counts.) And other than the tongue-in-cheek nonsense I love to spout, I wish Jeremy all the luck in the world because I am certain that the magnitude of this embarrassment has served as an unimaginable lesson to him for his future self. He’s learned his lesson, I’m sure, but it is one he will not be able to easily get past.

He didn’t cheat on his wife or use his job to grant favors to his mistress, for example. Or take a salary so excessive it’s more than the average Arkansan makes in a lifetime.

If you-know-who can leave Arkansas and get another millionaire contract at another college, I don’t think it’s fair to paint a large red “A” on Jeremy’s forehead, either. He did something stupid, rather than something malicious, which is more than I can say for others.

I don’t like sports and I really did mean it when I wish the young man well.

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Weird story: yesterday, I commented on a friend’s social media post, in support of his social reform efforts both here locally and statewide. I’ve been in his corner since I can remember. Today, out of multiple possible people to choose from, a local woman involved in one of the civic disagreements with my friend chose my comment to unload a lengthy and informative response to. (Out of everyone’s commentary, you would think I would be the LAST person to come across as both reasonable and the one to address such concerns to.) A friend of a friend (also a supporter of my friend), resorted to name-calling against her. Instead of lashing out at the woman who was disagreeing, I tried to acknowledge her as a real person with her own ideas while disagreeing with her – and while acknowledging and attempting to mitigate the lashing she had just taken by someone else. While I disagree with many of the beliefs she holds, I’ll continue to shake my head in bewilderment at some of what she believes. I’ll also temper it by seeing that most of what I know to be true – to her sounds like an unclassified report written about Bigfoot.

Lo and behold, that friend of my friend lashed out at me with the most vitriolic and melodramatic tirade. Despite my comment thread having a lot of information in it, I had to delete it, as I felt it didn’t reflect well on my friend, even though he’s not responsible for the over-the-top opinions of his friends and followers. I felt like Rocky would have – had Mickey turned and belted him on the chin for being in the corner with him. And then kicked him in the chicken nuggets for good measure.

I was flabbergasted – I literally had no flabber.

I felt like I had jumped in the middle of a bar fight to defend a woman, only to be surprised by a chair she had picked up to clobber me over the head with.

I’m still confused by it. Even when I’m being the responsible adult I am not sure I’m equipped to deal with the crazy people.

When I’m confused, the rest of you should be as well, because I am the very definition of the lunatic fringe.

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Eerie feeling: when you feel like you are living in Chapter 1 of a Stephen King novel. You can almost see the giant “wtf” above one’s head – but still find oneself anticipating the clever, diabolical surprise that the universe is about to unleash.

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If I were a football player, I would have changed my name to “Emergency Exit.” Because you’re not allowed to block those.

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In a startling response to the age-old cliche, our nation will finally get an answer Jan 20th to the question, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

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“Anyone can grow up to be president” now has the opposite motivational meaning.

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