Highlights Of The Week

Highlights of the week of September 23-28

- Started shooting left handed, since my left eye sees better over distances and it has suddenly transformed my effectiveness. Have killed four and maimed two other squirrels since going lefty...a deadly adjustment in my campaign to plow a path of death and destruction through the squirrel community.

- Continued prodigious output on my latest literary effort, completing five chapters since Sunday.

- My friend who has cancer had a rough week, lots of negative reactions to her chemo. Her daily Dad Joke therapy wasn’t as effective as it has been in previous weeks, but the worst of it seems to be over for now and she is battling on, even sending me several thumbs ups and laughing emojis to this morning’s offerings:

What’s it called when they put an inmate into a cell with nothing but a deck of cards?

Solitaire confinement.

I began reading a horror story in Braille.

Something really bad is going to happen...I can feel it.

Then there was a twist that I didn’t see coming.

- Pam and I started watching the latest Ken Burns documentary on Country music. Amazing and fascinating. Although Burns could make a documentary about diarrhea fascinating as long as Peter Coyote’s voice is the narrator:

In the pre-dawn mist of the 3rd of September 1953, Ed Moszkawitz’s condition took a turn for the worse. With his wife cringing in a room down the hall, Ed’s diarrhea entered a new phase, having turned a color resembling magenta, which Ed thought might either be blood or the result of the strained beets he had eaten the night before. 

- Profitable week at the office, no doubt the result of the insanely expensive renovation project just completed by the Greenwood Girls. Of course, when I told my indomitable assistant to go out and buy a new chair for her office she returned with a beautiful striped, upholstered beauty that fit the space perfectly. Everyone who has seen it has raved about how great it looks. Price?  $59.99

Genius!!

Make It Stop!

It’s currently 4:17 in the morning, the third time this week I’ve been wide awake at this hour. Each time it has been for the same reason. Inspiration. For over a month now a story has been pouring out of me and the flow won’t stop no matter what the hour. It has consumed nearly every waking and sleeping moment. For whatever reason, my mind cannot turn it off. After 17 chapters it still doesn’t have a name. A couple of nights ago, I fell asleep thinking about how I was going to introduce a strange memory sequence. At 2 o’clock I woke up with the solution, stumbled down the stairs and starting writing, then crawled back in bed two hours later.

The strangest thing about it is the fact that I’m not even sure I particularly like any of the characters. The story itself is pretty good, but I’ve had better. But this one feels different. This one feels relentless. The pace at which it has revealed itself has been staggering. . .and it’s wearing me out.

Deep Questions.

There are times when an idea gets stuck in my head and just won’t go away. It’s quite annoying, especially when the idea in question is something ridiculous, unproductive, or both. Well, thanks to my small group, I woke up this morning with the most ridiculous, most unproductive idea possibly of all times living rent free in my head. The only way I’m going to be able to shake it is to get it out of my system by writing out the stupidity here on The Tempest.

So, someone made the casual observation during our small group discussion last night that we know very little about the childhood of Jesus. Aside from that one story about him in the temple as a child there's nothing in scripture about his childhood or adolescence. Then, someone who will remain nameless, although her initials are Renee Carter, cracked us all up with, “I wonder if he was nice to all the lame children?”

This morning, I can’t stop thinking about what Jesus might have been like as a five year old:

When the other kids were stomping through mud puddles, was he walking over them?

When Jesus and his buds went on picnics did Jesus turn their water into lemonade?

Did Jesus’ friends get annoyed whenever they played hide and seek with him because he always knew where they all were hiding?

When he wrestled with a buddy and pinned his face into the dirt would he say stuff like, “See, I told ya! The meek will inherit the earth!”

Did Jesus ever sneak out to go play a game of spin the cask in that storage shed behind the temple?

Ok, I feel better now. 

The Downton Abbey Movie

I can think of at least a dozen reasons why I should hate Downton Abbey. The idea that someone with my sensibilities would not only have faithfully watched all seven seasons, but also just dropped $100 to watch the movie version at Cinebistro is astonishing. Let me explain.

Although I am fully aware of the debt which western civilization owes the British Isles, in addition to the great contributions those countries made to the establishment of our own. . .I have always held on to a bit of resentment towards Great Britain. I find them to be condescending, and their silly monarchy embarrassing. Whenever one of them gets married, women in America completely be-clown themselves with their fawning worship of the most ridiculous institution to survive modernity, second only to Free-Masonry. The British monarchy is the biggest collection of talentless, entitled white people ever assembled in one place. The closest we come to it in Virginia is cocktail hour at the Commonwealth Club.

And yet, there I was last night, thoroughly enchanted by Lord and Lady Grantham and their pretentious family, none of whom has done an honest day’s work in their collective lives. What gives?

Well, for one thing, Downton Abbey is a feast for the eyes. The grand old house and the lush grounds are simply gorgeous. There’s something to be said for beauty, no matter the source. Then there’s their impeccable, for lack of a more precise term—manners. To watch a group of people speaking to each other with courtesy and respect for seven years has been something like a salve for the soul. To hear adults, whether upstairs or down, use complete sentences, with such precise grammar and diction is to be reminded that verbal communication is now in decline. Then there's this...

We live in a loud world. We are people with short attention spans, who must be constantly bombarded with flash and pop. Turn on any television program these days, go to any movie, no matter the genre, and before long a car chase scene will break out. Everyone involved in the entertainment business seems to be screaming at us. They have come to the conclusion that we cannot be entertained without a full frontal attack on all of our senses. They are probably correct.

But, last night, hardly anyone raised their voice for nearly 2 hours. No one was gruesomely killed (although there was an aborted assassination attempt). No one felt obligated to shower us with 16 different varieties of the F word. No one got naked. And there were no thinly veiled preachy climate change sermons. What there was was fine acting, terrific writing, and freaking Maggie Smith. Watching her deliver her lines with that delightfully aristocratic tilt of the head was worth however much it cost me last night. 

Plus, I was with these wonderful people...

So yeah, me of all people, I’m a Downton Abbey guy. There. I said it.

Four Saturday Dad Jokes

Some of you have expressed great appreciation for my endless stream of Dad Jokes on Facebook. Others. . .well, others. . .lets just say, not so much. Nevertheless, I persist essentially for one reason—humor, even weak humor is better than bitching and moaning about politics. Attempts at getting people to laugh is more rewarding than pointless debates. And with the 2020 election cycle fast approaching, we’re going to be begging for something...anything to make us laugh soon enough!

So, here are four cringeworthy dad Jokes for your Saturday morning. I scared these babies up from their deepest, darkest hiding places on the interwebs.

1. Why are Irish bankers so successful?

Because their capital’s always Dublin.

2. My job is telling real trees from fake trees. I was worried that I would be bad at it, but it turns out I’m quite good.

That’s a real leaf.

3. I lost my job at the bank yesterday. An older woman came in and asked me to check her balance.

So, I pushed her over.

4. Studies have shown that 4 out of 5 men will have diarrhea at least once a month.

The other guy is full of it.

You’re welcome.

Praying For My Friend Today

My friend has her first chemo treatment today. You would think that I could have come up with something better than. . .

What do you call a hymn of embarrassment?    A facepsalm.

—and—

“Doctor, I can’t stop saying, ‘Halt! Who goes there??”

“We’ll have to do some tests but it looks like you might have...Friendorphobia.”

Some days are better than others, what can I say? 

So, she goes in and gets the chemo from 8:30 until 3:30. When she told me this I’m thinking, are you freaking kidding me? Seven hours of chemo? First of all, having to sit still for seven hours would be horrible enough, but to have to sit still for this would be excruciating. I assume that she will be in a room with others getting chemo too. How’s that gonna go?

“So, what’s you in for?”

“I’ve got pancreatic cancer. What about you?”

“Breast cancer here.”

“Two for one, eh?”

I can’t even imagine how scared she will be. I would be a mess. But she won’t be wearing sweat pants. My friend is dressed for an important meeting with a client, dressed to the nines. Her husband will be right beside her, and all of her friends will be praying. 

Office Makeover

A week ago I promised all of you that I would send before and after pictures of my office renovations as soon as they were complete. Well, everything isn’t 100% finished, but close enough. The only reason things turned out well is because my wife took matters into her capable hands, whipped out our VISA card and whipped the place into shape.

BEFORE.                                           

AFTER

That’s right, no more credentials on the wall. Just a map of the world so I can point out where we all are.

BEFORE

AFTER

No more golf pictures and no more chair rail. Just this handsome artsy thing that from this angle looks like a giant barcode.

BEFORE

AFTER

You will notice that the amazon jungle plant I used to have devouring my bookcase, and the sheet rock behind it is no longer there. This has come as a great relief to my colleagues who had become quite fearful at its prodigious growth, imagining the day when all of us would find ourselves trapped inside and suffocated by its rapidly expanding tentacles. Also, you will notice the new clock. This will help me remind my clients just how late they were arriving for their appointment.

BEFORE

AFTER

So...there you have it.