By Steve Bussiere
My son came home for a visit recently, which was great because I really miss him, although I know he is out there somewhere growing into the person he has to become. That is a wonderful and magical thing, but I still miss him.
While he was staying with me he gave me a book and told me I should read it because he thought I would really like it. He thinks the author's style is a lot like mine and told me it made him think of me while he was away growing.
We didn't spend nearly as much time together as I would have liked, because he is a young man and missed his friends here too, and wanted to spend time with them as well.
I was once a young man myself so after he spent a couple of hours with me I tossed him my car keys and told him to get out and see his friends, because when you are young, you need to see your friends more than you need to spend time with your old man, no matter how much you miss each other.
He smiled said thanks Dad, gave me a hug and headed out the door.
There was nothing on television that I wanted to watch, so out of curiosity born of boredom, I opened up the book and began to read it.
It was a great book, and I found it hard to put down. I sat there reading and marveled as I read my own life story it seemed.
I won't bore you with the details, but there was one chapter about loneliness, which really struck a chord inside of my heart.
The bottom line was that people were never meant to be alone because when we are alone, we become so self-absorbed that reality vanishes into the mist of life.
Well that's pretty deep stuff to read when you are feeling precisely the same way inside, which started me thinking. Loneliness starts you thinking sometimes which can spiral out of control.
At this time of year, there are a lot of people who are likely feeling a deeper loneliness than hopefully you can imagine, because it is not fun to feel that way.
I sat back and looked at my life, what it is and what it was, where it has lead me and I wondered where it will lead me to.
Then I thought about The Republic of Steve.
The Republic of Steve is a place in my mind, which was born of loneliness.
It is a place where I can create everything I would love to have.
It is a place where there is no loneliness, only friends.
Friends who care about each other, laugh with each other, lie harmlessly to one another and hide from the uglier side of life with each other.
It is a place where dreams are born and grow. Dreams like "The Paper Magazine".
Some of the dreams are born from hope.
Some are born from pain, and others are born of the same complete and utter boredom and frustration that only the lonely know.
It's a haven of sanity, born of insanity.
It may never be close to the best place on this earth, but at least it's "home", and home is where the heart is.
No matter how badly the day has gone, there is a place of respite at The Republic of Steve.
There is always someone who cares about you and all that you are going through.
No matter how down you are feeling on any particular day, there is always someone at The Republic who will rag on you, just to let you know they care, because you only tease people you care about.
There are always friends to have a beverage with and do some "neon tanning" under the four gazillion beer lights which adorn the walls.
Camaraderie is a wonderful thing which will kill loneliness, at least temporarily.
There is "Christmas" in The Republic of Steve, but it can't be held on the 25th of December, because it is not open on that day.
I suppose it's a lot like Wal-Mart, which is not open on that day either, with no check out lines.
With that in mind, I just want to take this opportunity to wish all of the denizens of The Republic of Steve, a very Merry Christmas.
THE CAST: (In no particular order)
Alton
Andy
Publisher Bob
One Draft Phil
Sole Brother Rich
Clark The Killer
Sherriff Ron
Karnal Kim
The Wiz
Angel Eyes
Cinderella
The Flower Girl
Butch The Water Bored Guy
And to everyone reading this, we all wish you the very best at this wonderful time of year! Hold the snow!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
All Workout And No Play
By Steve Bussiere
I have a very dear friend who lives far, too far away from where I find myself sitting right now, … in a physical sense, at least.
I remember back to a time when Olivia Newton John had an album with a great tune entitled “Let’s Get Physical”.
I really liked that album, not only because of the music … but the pictures were, ahem, …stimulating, (I can’t think of a more apropos adjective), to say the least.
Due to relatively recent changes in my living arrangements, I no longer own a turntable. But I have retained the album, for entirely selfish reasons.
I like to think that it’s because it reminds me of a time when everyone I know had much harder bodies than time allows one to retain, although I realize that there are some folks I know, who are struggling to recapture, that which time has ruled, “long gone”.
I salute these people and their zealous crusades to recapture past glory. I suppose some people just want to be teenagers again, although when I recall that period in my life, I am unable to fathom how one would even want to go there again.
Time is the never relenting enemy, (yeah, I actually figured that out myself), and it takes no prisoners. I know, because I checked into it. Heck, I currently hurt in places I didn’t know existed, back in the day. If my body is a temple, it is in dire need of a total refurbishing. And no one worships there either, a sad commentary, on a sad excuse for a temple.
I’m lucky though, I don’t have to look at me. The gods have smiled on at least one aspect of my life.
My aforementioned, dear friend, worries too much about her physical appearance, at times.
I think that she kind of looks like Olivia Newton John.
She is a lot like Olivia Newton John as well. For instance neither of them talks to me these days. Perhaps it’s due to the turntable’s absence, or then again it may be that they’re both just too damned good for me.
It’s pointless to speculate, which I figured out yesterday.
So into my chariot I jumped and headed off to The Triangle.
Unfortunately it isn’t one of those “love” triangles, it’s more of the Bermuda type of triangle for me.
Football game day.
So I entered The Triangle and glanced around quickly.
Nope, definitely not the “love” triangle.
My faraway friend was not there and neither was Olivia.
But my good friend Mexican Joe was there. My brother from another mother had found the best seat in the house, so I went over and sat down with him to watch the Texans, and then the Cowboys.
Joe is an American of Hispanic descent, but everyone calls him Mexican Joe anyway.
I used to call him Tex-Mex, but after a few beverages that gets difficult to say clearly.
I sat at the table and thought that over for a while.
He needed a simpler name, but “Joe” was too simple.
I thought the entire matter over for a while longer when the music in the background changed to “Bang A Gong”.
Enlightenment and inspiration are wild things, born at times of nothing more than complete and utter boredom, with a slice of music on the side.
The new name “T-Mex” was born of that exact mindless type of inspiration.
T-Mex drives a stylish Mercedez Benz, which is the same color that it was when he first drove it into the parking lot at The Triangle. Being as it has remained the same color for several months, we have deduced that he must have bought it in the old fashioned way, with real money.
“You’re gonna get a reputation T-Mex.” I mentioned to him.
“Why do you say that Steve?” he asked.
“Well you drive around in that fancy pimp mobile and people may think you have a lot of money or something.”
T-Mex smiled. He’s got a really good smile, the waitresses told me so.
That’s when The Wiz walked through the door. “G’day mates!” he said as he sat at the table with us. “What are we watching?” he asked.
“Football Wiz, Texans game and then the Cowboys.”
“Okay.” He said as he took a sip from his beer. “Let the games begin!”
“They already started Wiz.” T-Mex answered, pointing at the television screen.
“What have you been up to all morning?” the Wiz asked me.
“Coffee, doing laundry and cleaning the bachelor pad.” I told him. “How about you Wiz, what have you been up to?”
“Oh, I was in the workout room this morning.”
“What were you doing there?” I asked.
“Working out Mate, that’s what you do in those types of places.”
“Yeah but you’re not a young guy Wiz, working out is for young guys … and Olivia.”
“Who is Olivia?” The Wiz asked me.
“An Australian girl, like you Wiz.”
“I’m not a girl Steve.”
“I know Wiz, but you’re Australian, just like her. Do all you Aussies work out?”
“I’m not sure Mate, but I do, and I guess Olivia does as well but she wasn’t in there when I was this morning. Which apartment does she live in?”
“Currently she resides on the second shelf in my humble abode.” I told him.
The Wiz was non-plussed at my response, and looked over at T-Mex.
“Well then Mate, I’ll just have to change my schedule and see exactly when she does her workout. How will I know it’s her though?”
“Oh, you’ll know Wiz, and you’ll fall in love in a heartbeat. And when your heartbeat stops she’ll whip out the paddles of the zapper, rip your shirt open and start singing like an angel.”
“What will she be singing?”
“Not sure Wiz, but if it’s something like, let’s get physical, you’d better make sure she has those zapper paddles close by. Hey, what happened to T-Mex?”
“He went out and got into the Benz.”
“Where was he going?”
“Not certain where he went, he just muttered something about heading to the O-zone.”
I have a very dear friend who lives far, too far away from where I find myself sitting right now, … in a physical sense, at least.
I remember back to a time when Olivia Newton John had an album with a great tune entitled “Let’s Get Physical”.
I really liked that album, not only because of the music … but the pictures were, ahem, …stimulating, (I can’t think of a more apropos adjective), to say the least.
Due to relatively recent changes in my living arrangements, I no longer own a turntable. But I have retained the album, for entirely selfish reasons.
I like to think that it’s because it reminds me of a time when everyone I know had much harder bodies than time allows one to retain, although I realize that there are some folks I know, who are struggling to recapture, that which time has ruled, “long gone”.
I salute these people and their zealous crusades to recapture past glory. I suppose some people just want to be teenagers again, although when I recall that period in my life, I am unable to fathom how one would even want to go there again.
Time is the never relenting enemy, (yeah, I actually figured that out myself), and it takes no prisoners. I know, because I checked into it. Heck, I currently hurt in places I didn’t know existed, back in the day. If my body is a temple, it is in dire need of a total refurbishing. And no one worships there either, a sad commentary, on a sad excuse for a temple.
I’m lucky though, I don’t have to look at me. The gods have smiled on at least one aspect of my life.
My aforementioned, dear friend, worries too much about her physical appearance, at times.
I think that she kind of looks like Olivia Newton John.
She is a lot like Olivia Newton John as well. For instance neither of them talks to me these days. Perhaps it’s due to the turntable’s absence, or then again it may be that they’re both just too damned good for me.
It’s pointless to speculate, which I figured out yesterday.
So into my chariot I jumped and headed off to The Triangle.
Unfortunately it isn’t one of those “love” triangles, it’s more of the Bermuda type of triangle for me.
Football game day.
So I entered The Triangle and glanced around quickly.
Nope, definitely not the “love” triangle.
My faraway friend was not there and neither was Olivia.
But my good friend Mexican Joe was there. My brother from another mother had found the best seat in the house, so I went over and sat down with him to watch the Texans, and then the Cowboys.
Joe is an American of Hispanic descent, but everyone calls him Mexican Joe anyway.
I used to call him Tex-Mex, but after a few beverages that gets difficult to say clearly.
I sat at the table and thought that over for a while.
He needed a simpler name, but “Joe” was too simple.
I thought the entire matter over for a while longer when the music in the background changed to “Bang A Gong”.
Enlightenment and inspiration are wild things, born at times of nothing more than complete and utter boredom, with a slice of music on the side.
The new name “T-Mex” was born of that exact mindless type of inspiration.
T-Mex drives a stylish Mercedez Benz, which is the same color that it was when he first drove it into the parking lot at The Triangle. Being as it has remained the same color for several months, we have deduced that he must have bought it in the old fashioned way, with real money.
“You’re gonna get a reputation T-Mex.” I mentioned to him.
“Why do you say that Steve?” he asked.
“Well you drive around in that fancy pimp mobile and people may think you have a lot of money or something.”
T-Mex smiled. He’s got a really good smile, the waitresses told me so.
That’s when The Wiz walked through the door. “G’day mates!” he said as he sat at the table with us. “What are we watching?” he asked.
“Football Wiz, Texans game and then the Cowboys.”
“Okay.” He said as he took a sip from his beer. “Let the games begin!”
“They already started Wiz.” T-Mex answered, pointing at the television screen.
“What have you been up to all morning?” the Wiz asked me.
“Coffee, doing laundry and cleaning the bachelor pad.” I told him. “How about you Wiz, what have you been up to?”
“Oh, I was in the workout room this morning.”
“What were you doing there?” I asked.
“Working out Mate, that’s what you do in those types of places.”
“Yeah but you’re not a young guy Wiz, working out is for young guys … and Olivia.”
“Who is Olivia?” The Wiz asked me.
“An Australian girl, like you Wiz.”
“I’m not a girl Steve.”
“I know Wiz, but you’re Australian, just like her. Do all you Aussies work out?”
“I’m not sure Mate, but I do, and I guess Olivia does as well but she wasn’t in there when I was this morning. Which apartment does she live in?”
“Currently she resides on the second shelf in my humble abode.” I told him.
The Wiz was non-plussed at my response, and looked over at T-Mex.
“Well then Mate, I’ll just have to change my schedule and see exactly when she does her workout. How will I know it’s her though?”
“Oh, you’ll know Wiz, and you’ll fall in love in a heartbeat. And when your heartbeat stops she’ll whip out the paddles of the zapper, rip your shirt open and start singing like an angel.”
“What will she be singing?”
“Not sure Wiz, but if it’s something like, let’s get physical, you’d better make sure she has those zapper paddles close by. Hey, what happened to T-Mex?”
“He went out and got into the Benz.”
“Where was he going?”
“Not certain where he went, he just muttered something about heading to the O-zone.”
Monday, August 11, 2008
An Evening At The Why
By Steve Bussiere
An Evening At The Why If I weren't already there, Publisher Bob would probably drive me crazy.
He's been well taught. I know, because apparently I taught him.
I recently, made a poor decision and entered the dreaded, and recently hotter than hell, "Pruitt Triangle".
"Why do you call it The Pruitt Triangle?" he wanted to know.
Bob wants to know a lot more than he needs to, … or should.
"I didn't name it that." I replied.
"Well then who did?" he continued.
"Just a friend of mine. I kind of liked it, so I adopted it for myself."
"Why?"
"Because I liked it. I just told you that, but you don't listen to me. You're just like my kids."
"You haven't given me a column in a long time Steve. What's that all about?"
"You ask too many questions Bob. Unimportant questions… I've got nothing to say, so I'm not saying anything. I'm lying fallow for the moment. I believe that there are times when that's just the right thing to do."
"Really!" he replied. "So what else do you believe Steve?" he asked.
"I believe you ask too many questions Bob. Don't mess with me. My friend thinks I live in the Twilight Zone. And for the most part she's a very intelligent lady, other than the fact that she likes me as a person."
"You're avoiding the question Steve. What else do you believe?"
I took a deep breath and counted to ten, because someone told me you should do that when you're frustrated with a situation. Well, that as well as the fact I wanted to prove to myself that I was still capable of doing that.
"You really want to know?" I asked.
"Yes. I'm curious. You've been lying fallow for seven weeks now and I just want to see what's growing." And then he smiled, the sadistic bugger that he is.
"Well since you're apparently too dumb to know this all on your own, I'll share the wisdom with you." I told him. I was having a bad karma day.
"I believe that if anyone ever tells you that you're wise, you ought to ignore it."
"Why?"
"Stop the danged questions Bob. It gets really old really quickly, because you always should consider the source. I mean if they think you're wise, then that means they think you're wiser than they are, which shouldn't mean anything to you because you're the danged wise one in the first place and they ought to know that you're the one who should have explained it to them to begin with."
Bob looked scared for the first time since I met him.
"I also believe that love is stupid, since you asked."
"Why?"
There was that question again!
"Because when two people fall in love, it's inevitable that someone is going to end up getting hurt really badly."
"Why is that Steve?"
"Because it's the law of nature, and you can't mess with it."
Why? You mean you don't believe in true love?"
"I never said I didn't, but if two people fall in love, which is a ridiculous thing to do in the first place, somebody is gonna get hurt, sooner or later."
"Why? What if they meet, fall in love get married and live happily ever after?"
"It'll never happen Bob. Because even if it did and lasted for a hundred years, sooner or later one of them is going to die and the other one is going to hurt really badly when it happens."
"Well what if they die together Steve. You know, at the exact same time."
"That's not happily ever after Bob. Happily ever after only happens in Fairy Tales, and Fairy Tales are for kids, and when the parents do die, the kids end up getting hurt. It's just the nature of the world."
"Why would you say that? What if they didn't have kids? Then no one could end up getting hurt."
"Yes but two people who are dumb enough to fall in love in the first place, would want to have kids and if they didn't, that would hurt them. And if they didn't want to have kids, and then didn't have kids, they wouldn't know how happy they were before they had kids. Everybody always wants what they don't have and if you can't have what you don't have it hurts. So I'll stick with my last statement."
"Why?"
"Because I'm right, that's why. And while I'm on a tear, I also believe that Murphy was an optimist."
"Why is that Steve?"
"Because he was an Irishman and they all are optimistic because they drink too much, and they just don't know any better."
"I also believe that life may be short, but I'm shorter. And that's pretty much the long and the short of it, right there."
"Is that about it Steve?"
"I guess so. I mean the good Lord gave us two ears and one mouth and maybe half of a brain, with a tailwind. So I'm just going to shut up and listen now and try to hang on through the wind tunnel."
"You sound a touch jaded Steve." Bob answered. "You need to lighten up a bit and think about changing your perspective, don't you think?"
"Why??????????????"
An Evening At The Why If I weren't already there, Publisher Bob would probably drive me crazy.
He's been well taught. I know, because apparently I taught him.
I recently, made a poor decision and entered the dreaded, and recently hotter than hell, "Pruitt Triangle".
"Why do you call it The Pruitt Triangle?" he wanted to know.
Bob wants to know a lot more than he needs to, … or should.
"I didn't name it that." I replied.
"Well then who did?" he continued.
"Just a friend of mine. I kind of liked it, so I adopted it for myself."
"Why?"
"Because I liked it. I just told you that, but you don't listen to me. You're just like my kids."
"You haven't given me a column in a long time Steve. What's that all about?"
"You ask too many questions Bob. Unimportant questions… I've got nothing to say, so I'm not saying anything. I'm lying fallow for the moment. I believe that there are times when that's just the right thing to do."
"Really!" he replied. "So what else do you believe Steve?" he asked.
"I believe you ask too many questions Bob. Don't mess with me. My friend thinks I live in the Twilight Zone. And for the most part she's a very intelligent lady, other than the fact that she likes me as a person."
"You're avoiding the question Steve. What else do you believe?"
I took a deep breath and counted to ten, because someone told me you should do that when you're frustrated with a situation. Well, that as well as the fact I wanted to prove to myself that I was still capable of doing that.
"You really want to know?" I asked.
"Yes. I'm curious. You've been lying fallow for seven weeks now and I just want to see what's growing." And then he smiled, the sadistic bugger that he is.
"Well since you're apparently too dumb to know this all on your own, I'll share the wisdom with you." I told him. I was having a bad karma day.
"I believe that if anyone ever tells you that you're wise, you ought to ignore it."
"Why?"
"Stop the danged questions Bob. It gets really old really quickly, because you always should consider the source. I mean if they think you're wise, then that means they think you're wiser than they are, which shouldn't mean anything to you because you're the danged wise one in the first place and they ought to know that you're the one who should have explained it to them to begin with."
Bob looked scared for the first time since I met him.
"I also believe that love is stupid, since you asked."
"Why?"
There was that question again!
"Because when two people fall in love, it's inevitable that someone is going to end up getting hurt really badly."
"Why is that Steve?"
"Because it's the law of nature, and you can't mess with it."
Why? You mean you don't believe in true love?"
"I never said I didn't, but if two people fall in love, which is a ridiculous thing to do in the first place, somebody is gonna get hurt, sooner or later."
"Why? What if they meet, fall in love get married and live happily ever after?"
"It'll never happen Bob. Because even if it did and lasted for a hundred years, sooner or later one of them is going to die and the other one is going to hurt really badly when it happens."
"Well what if they die together Steve. You know, at the exact same time."
"That's not happily ever after Bob. Happily ever after only happens in Fairy Tales, and Fairy Tales are for kids, and when the parents do die, the kids end up getting hurt. It's just the nature of the world."
"Why would you say that? What if they didn't have kids? Then no one could end up getting hurt."
"Yes but two people who are dumb enough to fall in love in the first place, would want to have kids and if they didn't, that would hurt them. And if they didn't want to have kids, and then didn't have kids, they wouldn't know how happy they were before they had kids. Everybody always wants what they don't have and if you can't have what you don't have it hurts. So I'll stick with my last statement."
"Why?"
"Because I'm right, that's why. And while I'm on a tear, I also believe that Murphy was an optimist."
"Why is that Steve?"
"Because he was an Irishman and they all are optimistic because they drink too much, and they just don't know any better."
"I also believe that life may be short, but I'm shorter. And that's pretty much the long and the short of it, right there."
"Is that about it Steve?"
"I guess so. I mean the good Lord gave us two ears and one mouth and maybe half of a brain, with a tailwind. So I'm just going to shut up and listen now and try to hang on through the wind tunnel."
"You sound a touch jaded Steve." Bob answered. "You need to lighten up a bit and think about changing your perspective, don't you think?"
"Why??????????????"
Monday, June 2, 2008
Bad Science - Time On My Hands
By Steve Bussiere
There was a time in my life when I loved the advent of the long weekend.
That was back when I had someone to keep me in line, even if it was at the back of the line.
Don't misunderstand me, I still enjoy long weekends, but I never know what they have in store for me any more, which is an exciting thing.
Just this past weekend for instance, Memorial Day!
I always thought I knew what it meant, but I was in for a rude awakening this year.
One of my neighbors came by my place, and being hot and muggy, I told him to look in the refrigerator and help himself to any cold beverage he wanted.
"What do you have in there?" he asked me.
"I don't know." I replied. "There's a bunch of stuff in there I think. I don't like looking in it."
"Ok Steve, I'll check it out, I am pretty thirsty."
"Help yourself to anything." I said, "But if you find anything healthy in there you should leave it alone. It probably belongs to my son, or it's stale dated." I warned him.
Zack is a great big, happy go lucky guy from Arkansas, so I wasn't really worried about him going for anything healthy, but erring on the side of caution, I thought I should warn him.
Zack entered the bachelor pad and opened the refrigerator door.
I heard him rummaging through the contents and he returned in a short while carrying two cans of beer.
"I thought you might want one too Steve." he said as he handed one of the cans to me.
"Thanks Zack. That was really thoughtful of you."
Then he looked at me with a strange look in his eyes.
"Steve, that's not a refrigerator in there." he told me.
"What do you mean Zack?" I asked him. "What the heck do they call it in Arkansas? Ice boxes went out in the forties."
"Well, we would call it a refrigerator from the outside view, but when I looked inside, wow!"
"What do you mean, wow?" I asked.
"That's not a refrigerator Steve. It's a science experiment. … A science experiment gone really bad!"
I was crushed.
"Why would you say something so insensitive Zack? The beer is fresh."
"Yeah, but it's the other stuff in there that scares me." He replied.
"Like what?"
"Well you have something in there growing fur. It kind of looks like it was a zucchini."
"Couldn't be a zucchini Zack. I don't buy anything I can't spell. I think it may have been a cucumber."
"Oh I see. That's much easier to spell!"
"Don't you ever clean that thing out man?" he wondered aloud.
"Yeah, sure I do." I told him. "When the mood strikes me, or on long weekends, whichever comes later."
"Well it's a long weekend Steve. When are you going to get started?"
"I'm waiting for the mood to strike me. I'm a procrastinator."
"Well I hope it strikes you soon. You could cross contaminate the beer cans." Zack told me. "Or I guess you could clean the bathroom instead, if you needed something to do."
Suddenly the refrigerator thing began to look like a pretty inviting task.
"So where do you spend more time Steve, in the refrigerator or the bathroom?"
I hate being confused by people from Arkansas. It just ain't right, if you catch my drift.
"I pondered the question for a moment, and told him "Well one seems to lead to the other. It's like the itch/scratch cycle. It never ends!"
"Well, I have to get running Steve." Zack said as he finished his beer. "You may want to find your personal safety equipment so you don't get injured."
I watched him walk off toward his little corner of the world, and decided that he may be right. Refrigerator remediation time was upon me.
"C'mon by and have a drink any time." I called after him.
He looked back and grinned. "After you clean up the toxic spill Steve." he called back.
"It's Memorial Day Steve. You need to give that stuff a proper burial. But only after you say a few prayers."
"You think I'm going into that fridge without the aid of God Zack? It ain't gonna happen!"
Thank God, Playtex gloves and Lysol.
I took a deep breath and opened the door.
I actually thought it looked pretty good. It was reminiscent of an arboretum, in a manner of speaking.
I guess some people just don't appreciate nature the way others do.
To each his own.
It was a sad moment as I emptied the entire contents of the fridge and prepared for the Last Farewell.
I never had realized that a dumpster could be a holy place.
After a few moments of remembrance, I tossed the bag into the dumpster and returned to the bachelor pad.
I sadly opened the refrigerator door and glanced inside.
I had never realized that it could be such a cold and lonely place.
Melancholy filled my aching heart.
Then I thought of the bathroom.
A guy can only handle so much angst on one long weekend!
So I made an executive decision and wandered over to the grocery store.
There are times in one's life when you have to start anew, and I was on the brink of a brave new refrigerator world!
I suppose we'll just have to wait and see what grows out of all of this.
There was a time in my life when I loved the advent of the long weekend.
That was back when I had someone to keep me in line, even if it was at the back of the line.
Don't misunderstand me, I still enjoy long weekends, but I never know what they have in store for me any more, which is an exciting thing.
Just this past weekend for instance, Memorial Day!
I always thought I knew what it meant, but I was in for a rude awakening this year.
One of my neighbors came by my place, and being hot and muggy, I told him to look in the refrigerator and help himself to any cold beverage he wanted.
"What do you have in there?" he asked me.
"I don't know." I replied. "There's a bunch of stuff in there I think. I don't like looking in it."
"Ok Steve, I'll check it out, I am pretty thirsty."
"Help yourself to anything." I said, "But if you find anything healthy in there you should leave it alone. It probably belongs to my son, or it's stale dated." I warned him.
Zack is a great big, happy go lucky guy from Arkansas, so I wasn't really worried about him going for anything healthy, but erring on the side of caution, I thought I should warn him.
Zack entered the bachelor pad and opened the refrigerator door.
I heard him rummaging through the contents and he returned in a short while carrying two cans of beer.
"I thought you might want one too Steve." he said as he handed one of the cans to me.
"Thanks Zack. That was really thoughtful of you."
Then he looked at me with a strange look in his eyes.
"Steve, that's not a refrigerator in there." he told me.
"What do you mean Zack?" I asked him. "What the heck do they call it in Arkansas? Ice boxes went out in the forties."
"Well, we would call it a refrigerator from the outside view, but when I looked inside, wow!"
"What do you mean, wow?" I asked.
"That's not a refrigerator Steve. It's a science experiment. … A science experiment gone really bad!"
I was crushed.
"Why would you say something so insensitive Zack? The beer is fresh."
"Yeah, but it's the other stuff in there that scares me." He replied.
"Like what?"
"Well you have something in there growing fur. It kind of looks like it was a zucchini."
"Couldn't be a zucchini Zack. I don't buy anything I can't spell. I think it may have been a cucumber."
"Oh I see. That's much easier to spell!"
"Don't you ever clean that thing out man?" he wondered aloud.
"Yeah, sure I do." I told him. "When the mood strikes me, or on long weekends, whichever comes later."
"Well it's a long weekend Steve. When are you going to get started?"
"I'm waiting for the mood to strike me. I'm a procrastinator."
"Well I hope it strikes you soon. You could cross contaminate the beer cans." Zack told me. "Or I guess you could clean the bathroom instead, if you needed something to do."
Suddenly the refrigerator thing began to look like a pretty inviting task.
"So where do you spend more time Steve, in the refrigerator or the bathroom?"
I hate being confused by people from Arkansas. It just ain't right, if you catch my drift.
"I pondered the question for a moment, and told him "Well one seems to lead to the other. It's like the itch/scratch cycle. It never ends!"
"Well, I have to get running Steve." Zack said as he finished his beer. "You may want to find your personal safety equipment so you don't get injured."
I watched him walk off toward his little corner of the world, and decided that he may be right. Refrigerator remediation time was upon me.
"C'mon by and have a drink any time." I called after him.
He looked back and grinned. "After you clean up the toxic spill Steve." he called back.
"It's Memorial Day Steve. You need to give that stuff a proper burial. But only after you say a few prayers."
"You think I'm going into that fridge without the aid of God Zack? It ain't gonna happen!"
Thank God, Playtex gloves and Lysol.
I took a deep breath and opened the door.
I actually thought it looked pretty good. It was reminiscent of an arboretum, in a manner of speaking.
I guess some people just don't appreciate nature the way others do.
To each his own.
It was a sad moment as I emptied the entire contents of the fridge and prepared for the Last Farewell.
I never had realized that a dumpster could be a holy place.
After a few moments of remembrance, I tossed the bag into the dumpster and returned to the bachelor pad.
I sadly opened the refrigerator door and glanced inside.
I had never realized that it could be such a cold and lonely place.
Melancholy filled my aching heart.
Then I thought of the bathroom.
A guy can only handle so much angst on one long weekend!
So I made an executive decision and wandered over to the grocery store.
There are times in one's life when you have to start anew, and I was on the brink of a brave new refrigerator world!
I suppose we'll just have to wait and see what grows out of all of this.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Cindy Safety - Time On My Hands
By Steve Bussiere
I was out recently, when I ran into a few close friends.
They may never admit to being that, but I do, because honesty is the best policy. I know that's true because I read it somewhere.
It was the Annual Champions Kid's Camp Bar-B-Que Cookoff at Papa's.
Sandy was looking for judges for some of the events, and being a shrewd woman, she immediately found me. As I said, she is a wise woman and she knows that if she can find single guys, they will never pass up the opportunity to judge free food.
Well, I honestly wasn't surprised as she approached me to ask if I would help.
I have done the judging thing for the past several years and have judged a few categories which I am totally unqualified to share my opinion on.
But I get to eat free, and the finest part of it all is that I don't have to do any dishes.
Bachelor heaven, so to speak.
"So what are you going to sign up for this year Steve?" she inquired.
For the past few years I have judged Bloody Mary's. The breakfast of Champions perhaps, but I'm down to one liver and my brain is functioning a lot better now.
So I checked the list, in search of new horizons in my dining life.
"Desserts!" I said.
Bachelors, don't get dessert very often,, because very few pizza joints serve dessert, so it sounded like a sweet deal to this boy.
There is a secondary benefit to picking the dessert deal, because they don't do the dessert judging until the Bloody Mary liver sacrifice is over, so I got to sleep in a little later. And besides that, you can make sure that the Bloody Mary judges lived through the ordeal, which gives, in my mind, a firm indication that the cookers know their craft making the second sitting asafer experience.
Thinking about the safety factor, reminded me of Cindy.
She's a Safety person in one of the large facilities in the area, and she kind of cute for a girl too.
Safety people are a conservative breed, and most of them. Unfortunately, look more like Harold the Safety guy than Cindy the Safety Girl, which is an unfortunate situation for most industrial accident victims.
Then I thought to myself that I was very happy I didn't work in her facility, because I think I'd be involved in a whole lot of minor accident situations, of the non life threatening variety.
I sat at the judging table, thinking to myself that it was far too early in the day to be having impure thoughts, so I stopped thinking and started looking at the desserts.
That was when Cindy Safety walked in the door, and started that wrong type thinking thing all over again.
I was there to judge dessert. It was an important job.
A job to be performed safely.
As I opened the first container, I looked at something which appeared to be delicious.
So I looked back over at Cindy Safety, took a deep breath and tasted the first offering.
Cindy was seated with Rich, my Sole Brother. He of the blown out running shoe accident of last year.
I smiled.
Rich needs a safety girl in his life.
He's a bachelor as well, and then I wondered why he wasn't judging the desserts.
Then I looked at Cindy, and I realized that he had made the wiser choice.
I looked at offering number two.
It looked very sweet.
Then I looked at my Sole Brother with Cindy Safety.
He had a smile on his face.
I had a smile on my face.
Offering number two was sweet.
Safety Cindy was sweeter though.
Round Two went to my Sole Brother.
So did all of the other rounds.
I felt cheated, if it is possible to feel cheated after you have just tasted twelve of the best desserts you have ever had.
When it was over, I walked over and sat down with Cindy and my Sole Brother
I never realized that Rich was such a conscientious host.
He had obviously spared no expense in hosting the event. He had even brought in the best looking safety person in Texas to protect me.
I love America! Land of the Free and home of the Safe.
And then I began to wonder, for no important reason, what the heck Cindy was short for.
You should never think like that while you are on a sugar buzz.
My mind was a blank space, a black hole in the Bar-B-Que universe.
And then it came to me!
Cinderella!!!!!
That had to be it. There could be no other explanation in the Bar-B-Que universe.
I was witnessing a transfiguration!
Rich, my Sole Brother was in a safe place now!
He had his very own Safety Angel.
No Christmas Tree to perch her upon, but he had the Safety Angel that belongs on the tree, if he ever finds it!
Rich, the Sole Man, was now, at least in my warped vision, The Cinderella Man!
"Hey! Give me another piece of that Pumpkin Pie. Would ya?"
I was out recently, when I ran into a few close friends.
They may never admit to being that, but I do, because honesty is the best policy. I know that's true because I read it somewhere.
It was the Annual Champions Kid's Camp Bar-B-Que Cookoff at Papa's.
Sandy was looking for judges for some of the events, and being a shrewd woman, she immediately found me. As I said, she is a wise woman and she knows that if she can find single guys, they will never pass up the opportunity to judge free food.
Well, I honestly wasn't surprised as she approached me to ask if I would help.
I have done the judging thing for the past several years and have judged a few categories which I am totally unqualified to share my opinion on.
But I get to eat free, and the finest part of it all is that I don't have to do any dishes.
Bachelor heaven, so to speak.
"So what are you going to sign up for this year Steve?" she inquired.
For the past few years I have judged Bloody Mary's. The breakfast of Champions perhaps, but I'm down to one liver and my brain is functioning a lot better now.
So I checked the list, in search of new horizons in my dining life.
"Desserts!" I said.
Bachelors, don't get dessert very often,, because very few pizza joints serve dessert, so it sounded like a sweet deal to this boy.
There is a secondary benefit to picking the dessert deal, because they don't do the dessert judging until the Bloody Mary liver sacrifice is over, so I got to sleep in a little later. And besides that, you can make sure that the Bloody Mary judges lived through the ordeal, which gives, in my mind, a firm indication that the cookers know their craft making the second sitting asafer experience.
Thinking about the safety factor, reminded me of Cindy.
She's a Safety person in one of the large facilities in the area, and she kind of cute for a girl too.
Safety people are a conservative breed, and most of them. Unfortunately, look more like Harold the Safety guy than Cindy the Safety Girl, which is an unfortunate situation for most industrial accident victims.
Then I thought to myself that I was very happy I didn't work in her facility, because I think I'd be involved in a whole lot of minor accident situations, of the non life threatening variety.
I sat at the judging table, thinking to myself that it was far too early in the day to be having impure thoughts, so I stopped thinking and started looking at the desserts.
That was when Cindy Safety walked in the door, and started that wrong type thinking thing all over again.
I was there to judge dessert. It was an important job.
A job to be performed safely.
As I opened the first container, I looked at something which appeared to be delicious.
So I looked back over at Cindy Safety, took a deep breath and tasted the first offering.
Cindy was seated with Rich, my Sole Brother. He of the blown out running shoe accident of last year.
I smiled.
Rich needs a safety girl in his life.
He's a bachelor as well, and then I wondered why he wasn't judging the desserts.
Then I looked at Cindy, and I realized that he had made the wiser choice.
I looked at offering number two.
It looked very sweet.
Then I looked at my Sole Brother with Cindy Safety.
He had a smile on his face.
I had a smile on my face.
Offering number two was sweet.
Safety Cindy was sweeter though.
Round Two went to my Sole Brother.
So did all of the other rounds.
I felt cheated, if it is possible to feel cheated after you have just tasted twelve of the best desserts you have ever had.
When it was over, I walked over and sat down with Cindy and my Sole Brother
I never realized that Rich was such a conscientious host.
He had obviously spared no expense in hosting the event. He had even brought in the best looking safety person in Texas to protect me.
I love America! Land of the Free and home of the Safe.
And then I began to wonder, for no important reason, what the heck Cindy was short for.
You should never think like that while you are on a sugar buzz.
My mind was a blank space, a black hole in the Bar-B-Que universe.
And then it came to me!
Cinderella!!!!!
That had to be it. There could be no other explanation in the Bar-B-Que universe.
I was witnessing a transfiguration!
Rich, my Sole Brother was in a safe place now!
He had his very own Safety Angel.
No Christmas Tree to perch her upon, but he had the Safety Angel that belongs on the tree, if he ever finds it!
Rich, the Sole Man, was now, at least in my warped vision, The Cinderella Man!
"Hey! Give me another piece of that Pumpkin Pie. Would ya?"
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Musing, On A Sunny Afternoon - Time On My Hands
By Steve Bussiere
It's only the beginning of May, and I'm already sick of August. It was 98 degrees in shade yesterday, and I had to fight for a piece of the shade.
Phil and Andy decided that it was a worthwhile pursuit, and decided to join me.
That's when it all began to go downhill.
Sort of the Texas equivalent of "Spring Skiing."
It was, I decided in a moment of lucidity, that it was just too hot to drink beer, so I ordered an ice water. I was overdue to make a wise decision so it shouldn't have come as such a shock.
Andy was in a pensive mood yesterday afternoon. It may have been the heat, but I think it was more likely the humidity. "Have you written anything lately?" he asked.
"No. I haven't felt moved, so I've been dogging it."
"Oh, I suppose that happens from time to time to everyone."
"Well, I never gave it much thought Andy, but you're usually right, so I'll concede that point."
"Hey, have you been getting Googled a lot lately? I remember back when you were getting more Google than anyone in the place."
"No, I don't think so. I guess the magic has left the building or something." I told them.
"Well, you just need to talk to your muse and grab some inspiration." Phil said.
"Muse?" I asked. I studied mythology in high school, but that was a long time ago. Back when the Greeks ruled the world.
I began to think about the word muse right about then.
You should never drink ice water and think. It's a volatile mixture, especially on a hot May afternoon in the heart of Texas.
I know the word muse, means to think deeply, so I began to muse about that.
Andy and Phil are both very well educated, so I should have been on my toes, but it was, quite frankly, just too darned hot to do that.
"Muse means to think deeply, and doing that might ruin my reputation." I told them.
"It's also French for the mouth of an animal." Phil said.
Andy sat back and smiled. It scares me when he does that, so I sat in anticipation of his next comment. "A muse is, in Greek mythology, one of nine goddesses that inspire creativity, like poetry and writing and music."
"I knew that Andy, but nine goddesses? Sounds like a pretty good gig to me."
"Yes Steve, it does. So do you have a muse?"
"Yes I do." I replied.
"What's she like?" Phil wondered.
"She's mean." I told them. "She's really mean and hard on me."
"I didn't realize you were Greek Steve." Andy opined from his seat at the square table.
"I'm not, but I'm a multi cultural kind of guy. But my muse isn't Greek anyway, so it really is of no importance."
"Well is your muse at least a female?" Andy asked, looking a little nervous.
"Of course." I replied, "This isn't that type of bar."
"This from the guy drinking the ice water?"
"Yes guys. Ice water is a good thing. So is a muse." I answered them. "Even if she's a mean muse."
"Why is she a mean muse?"
"I don't know. Maybe she was like the last muse created or something because she inspires me, but if that doesn't work, she threatens me with bodily harm"
"There are Senators who would probably pay big bucks for a muse like that Steve. Maybe you ought to put her on the market and find a new one."
"I can't do that guys. I've grown accustomed to her ways. Better the devil you know and all of that. And besides that, it might be dangerous to have an inspired Senator running around. I've checked the ballot."
"So does she visit you in the swinging bachelor pad or what?"
"The swinging bachelor pad is no place for a muse to be. Muses are female and then she'd be torn between writing inspiration and making me clean the place up. I think muses focus a lot better than that."
"So what does she look like Steve?"
"Heck, I have no idea. Muses are spiritual beings. They aren't of this world. You can't see them. They're invisible."
Andy shook his head sadly. "That's too bad Steve."
"Why do think that Andy?"
"Because she might be the ugliest muse in the spiritual world, and you have no way of knowing if she is. It's just not right in my opinion."
"Andy's right Steve, she might be mean, nasty and ugly too. You may be being mis-mused, and not even realize it."
And he smiled sadistically at me.
"Who cares? I can't see her anyway, so it doesn't really matter."
"So that's why you're drinking ice water, right?"
"Yeah, you can't drink a muse pretty when you can't even see her, and I'm saving a lot of money with the ice water."
"Well that makes perfect sense to me!" Andy smiled.
"Well, I don't think she can be ugly, because she hasn't been around lately, so I figure she must be dating some Greek god guy, and they don't do ugly muses. At least, I don't think they do."
"So you think your muse is out being amused, huh?"
"Yeah, better she's being amused than my being abused. I told you she's mean and nasty,"
"So you stopped writing in hopes that she'd go?"
"No. I'm just recharging my batteries."
"Well maybe your muse is recharging her batteries too, to inspire you."
"Gosh! I sure hope not!! Then she'll really whoop my butt!!!"
"Well then Steve, the answer is really quite elementary. Why don't you just write something about her and maybe she'll go easier on you."
I ordered a refill of my ice water, while considering that option.
I already mentioned that thinking and ice water are a volatile mixture!
I looked at my friends, shook my head and replied, "No way guys. Besides, nobody would ever read such a stupid article."
"Bob? Where are you Bob?"
It's only the beginning of May, and I'm already sick of August. It was 98 degrees in shade yesterday, and I had to fight for a piece of the shade.
Phil and Andy decided that it was a worthwhile pursuit, and decided to join me.
That's when it all began to go downhill.
Sort of the Texas equivalent of "Spring Skiing."
It was, I decided in a moment of lucidity, that it was just too hot to drink beer, so I ordered an ice water. I was overdue to make a wise decision so it shouldn't have come as such a shock.
Andy was in a pensive mood yesterday afternoon. It may have been the heat, but I think it was more likely the humidity. "Have you written anything lately?" he asked.
"No. I haven't felt moved, so I've been dogging it."
"Oh, I suppose that happens from time to time to everyone."
"Well, I never gave it much thought Andy, but you're usually right, so I'll concede that point."
"Hey, have you been getting Googled a lot lately? I remember back when you were getting more Google than anyone in the place."
"No, I don't think so. I guess the magic has left the building or something." I told them.
"Well, you just need to talk to your muse and grab some inspiration." Phil said.
"Muse?" I asked. I studied mythology in high school, but that was a long time ago. Back when the Greeks ruled the world.
I began to think about the word muse right about then.
You should never drink ice water and think. It's a volatile mixture, especially on a hot May afternoon in the heart of Texas.
I know the word muse, means to think deeply, so I began to muse about that.
Andy and Phil are both very well educated, so I should have been on my toes, but it was, quite frankly, just too darned hot to do that.
"Muse means to think deeply, and doing that might ruin my reputation." I told them.
"It's also French for the mouth of an animal." Phil said.
Andy sat back and smiled. It scares me when he does that, so I sat in anticipation of his next comment. "A muse is, in Greek mythology, one of nine goddesses that inspire creativity, like poetry and writing and music."
"I knew that Andy, but nine goddesses? Sounds like a pretty good gig to me."
"Yes Steve, it does. So do you have a muse?"
"Yes I do." I replied.
"What's she like?" Phil wondered.
"She's mean." I told them. "She's really mean and hard on me."
"I didn't realize you were Greek Steve." Andy opined from his seat at the square table.
"I'm not, but I'm a multi cultural kind of guy. But my muse isn't Greek anyway, so it really is of no importance."
"Well is your muse at least a female?" Andy asked, looking a little nervous.
"Of course." I replied, "This isn't that type of bar."
"This from the guy drinking the ice water?"
"Yes guys. Ice water is a good thing. So is a muse." I answered them. "Even if she's a mean muse."
"Why is she a mean muse?"
"I don't know. Maybe she was like the last muse created or something because she inspires me, but if that doesn't work, she threatens me with bodily harm"
"There are Senators who would probably pay big bucks for a muse like that Steve. Maybe you ought to put her on the market and find a new one."
"I can't do that guys. I've grown accustomed to her ways. Better the devil you know and all of that. And besides that, it might be dangerous to have an inspired Senator running around. I've checked the ballot."
"So does she visit you in the swinging bachelor pad or what?"
"The swinging bachelor pad is no place for a muse to be. Muses are female and then she'd be torn between writing inspiration and making me clean the place up. I think muses focus a lot better than that."
"So what does she look like Steve?"
"Heck, I have no idea. Muses are spiritual beings. They aren't of this world. You can't see them. They're invisible."
Andy shook his head sadly. "That's too bad Steve."
"Why do think that Andy?"
"Because she might be the ugliest muse in the spiritual world, and you have no way of knowing if she is. It's just not right in my opinion."
"Andy's right Steve, she might be mean, nasty and ugly too. You may be being mis-mused, and not even realize it."
And he smiled sadistically at me.
"Who cares? I can't see her anyway, so it doesn't really matter."
"So that's why you're drinking ice water, right?"
"Yeah, you can't drink a muse pretty when you can't even see her, and I'm saving a lot of money with the ice water."
"Well that makes perfect sense to me!" Andy smiled.
"Well, I don't think she can be ugly, because she hasn't been around lately, so I figure she must be dating some Greek god guy, and they don't do ugly muses. At least, I don't think they do."
"So you think your muse is out being amused, huh?"
"Yeah, better she's being amused than my being abused. I told you she's mean and nasty,"
"So you stopped writing in hopes that she'd go?"
"No. I'm just recharging my batteries."
"Well maybe your muse is recharging her batteries too, to inspire you."
"Gosh! I sure hope not!! Then she'll really whoop my butt!!!"
"Well then Steve, the answer is really quite elementary. Why don't you just write something about her and maybe she'll go easier on you."
I ordered a refill of my ice water, while considering that option.
I already mentioned that thinking and ice water are a volatile mixture!
I looked at my friends, shook my head and replied, "No way guys. Besides, nobody would ever read such a stupid article."
"Bob? Where are you Bob?"
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Water Bored - Time On My Hands
By Steve Bussiere
I ran into Butch, a good friend of mine the other day while I was out and about doing my impersonation of someone with something worthwhile to do.
I like Butch for a lot of good reasons, not the least of which is that he may very well be the only man in Texas who is smaller than I am.
He's not from around here originally either, and is a transplant like me. And like me, he's not leaving either.
I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure it's Chuck's fault, because he plies Butch with cold adult beverages on a routine basis.
Butch is a retired fire fighter, with altogether too much leisure time on his hands. He reads the stuff I write and loves it, so I know he's really bored. He thinks I'm nuts, so I know he's in his right mind still.
I asked Butch what was new and exciting in his world. He told me that he is running for the Water Board.
I told him that I had no idea he was a surfer.
He looked at me as though I was the dumbest person on the planet. Sometimes he kind of reminds me of all of me ex girlfriends, except that no amount of beer would make him look that good.
To me, that is, because he's been married to his wife forever, and I'm sure that she has much better taste than I.
"It's not a surf board Steve, it's the water board."
"I've heard about that Butch. I watch CNN and Andy told me all about it. And I know about the Spanish Inquisition too, from history."
Butch's face contorted and he looked at me like I was a numb skull, again.
"I thought you used to be a fire fighter Butch. You just never struck me as the CIA type, but I guess they train you not to look like one anyway. Part of the training I suppose."
"I suppose you're right Steve." Butch said. "But I have no idea where you're coming from on that."
"You're the one who started talking about water boarding Butch. It's a really cruel torture tactic. What else do you do? Break blind people's pencils and kick the cup out of their hands?"
"I never said water boarding Steve. I said I'm running for the Water Board."
My mind began reeling. I had no idea you could build anything with water, and I wondered what you'd nail it with."
"You don't have a clue what I'm talking about, do you Steve?" Hey, I grew up in a francophone area, and the French word for nail is clous, which sounds exactly like clue. So I continued trying to figure out how you could nail water together.
"The Water Board manages the Water District Steve."
"So you want to be, like a water cowboy of sorts, right?" I asked him.
I'm no physics expert, but I know that water follows the path of least resistance, so I thought to myself that it sounded like a pretty fruitless pursuit to try and control something that free and aimless.
Butch shook his head in utter disgust.
"What the heck is a water cowboy Steve?"
"Don't ask me Butch, you're the one who wants to be one."
I was having visions of Butch in the saddle with an immense leaf blower strapped to his side, yelling at the water to turn left. It had to be a gas powered one because water and electricity don't mix very well.
Butch was having visions of me being placed into a padded cell.
"So you think you can control water, right?" I asked him.
"Exactly Steve." He answered.
"Well it's useless to try Butch."
"You don't think I can do it Steve?" Butch looked like a hurt puppy.
"No one can do it Butch. Water goes wherever it feels like. It's like trying to control a seventeen year old kid on a testosterone high. Some things just aren't doable Butch. Well, unless you're God."
Butch didn't look anything like I pictured God. I always pictured him as being a lot bigger than Butch or me.
Butch handed me one of his election flyers.
"Read this Steve. You might learn something."
"I sure hope so Butch."
"I have to go pick my wife up from work Steve. I'll talk to you later, after you read the flyer."
Butch walked out the door.
As I watched him leave, I waved at the waitress and ordered a beer. A beer which is water based.
Now that's what I consider controlling water.
I ran into Butch, a good friend of mine the other day while I was out and about doing my impersonation of someone with something worthwhile to do.
I like Butch for a lot of good reasons, not the least of which is that he may very well be the only man in Texas who is smaller than I am.
He's not from around here originally either, and is a transplant like me. And like me, he's not leaving either.
I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure it's Chuck's fault, because he plies Butch with cold adult beverages on a routine basis.
Butch is a retired fire fighter, with altogether too much leisure time on his hands. He reads the stuff I write and loves it, so I know he's really bored. He thinks I'm nuts, so I know he's in his right mind still.
I asked Butch what was new and exciting in his world. He told me that he is running for the Water Board.
I told him that I had no idea he was a surfer.
He looked at me as though I was the dumbest person on the planet. Sometimes he kind of reminds me of all of me ex girlfriends, except that no amount of beer would make him look that good.
To me, that is, because he's been married to his wife forever, and I'm sure that she has much better taste than I.
"It's not a surf board Steve, it's the water board."
"I've heard about that Butch. I watch CNN and Andy told me all about it. And I know about the Spanish Inquisition too, from history."
Butch's face contorted and he looked at me like I was a numb skull, again.
"I thought you used to be a fire fighter Butch. You just never struck me as the CIA type, but I guess they train you not to look like one anyway. Part of the training I suppose."
"I suppose you're right Steve." Butch said. "But I have no idea where you're coming from on that."
"You're the one who started talking about water boarding Butch. It's a really cruel torture tactic. What else do you do? Break blind people's pencils and kick the cup out of their hands?"
"I never said water boarding Steve. I said I'm running for the Water Board."
My mind began reeling. I had no idea you could build anything with water, and I wondered what you'd nail it with."
"You don't have a clue what I'm talking about, do you Steve?" Hey, I grew up in a francophone area, and the French word for nail is clous, which sounds exactly like clue. So I continued trying to figure out how you could nail water together.
"The Water Board manages the Water District Steve."
"So you want to be, like a water cowboy of sorts, right?" I asked him.
I'm no physics expert, but I know that water follows the path of least resistance, so I thought to myself that it sounded like a pretty fruitless pursuit to try and control something that free and aimless.
Butch shook his head in utter disgust.
"What the heck is a water cowboy Steve?"
"Don't ask me Butch, you're the one who wants to be one."
I was having visions of Butch in the saddle with an immense leaf blower strapped to his side, yelling at the water to turn left. It had to be a gas powered one because water and electricity don't mix very well.
Butch was having visions of me being placed into a padded cell.
"So you think you can control water, right?" I asked him.
"Exactly Steve." He answered.
"Well it's useless to try Butch."
"You don't think I can do it Steve?" Butch looked like a hurt puppy.
"No one can do it Butch. Water goes wherever it feels like. It's like trying to control a seventeen year old kid on a testosterone high. Some things just aren't doable Butch. Well, unless you're God."
Butch didn't look anything like I pictured God. I always pictured him as being a lot bigger than Butch or me.
Butch handed me one of his election flyers.
"Read this Steve. You might learn something."
"I sure hope so Butch."
"I have to go pick my wife up from work Steve. I'll talk to you later, after you read the flyer."
Butch walked out the door.
As I watched him leave, I waved at the waitress and ordered a beer. A beer which is water based.
Now that's what I consider controlling water.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
The Eyes Have It - Time On My Hands
By Steve Bussiere
I was thinking, which isn't a very good thing for me to do at times, about the last column. It's not an ego thing, but I was at the infamous Woodlands, Outdoor Garage Sale and Massacree, a couple of weeks ago, and in a fit of culture, I purchased a Print of a picture somebody had.
Had is the key word here, cause now it's mine all mine!!
And then, as I rode down the highway the other morning, I realized the danged thing was naked!
Unframed!
Unloved.
Naked to the world. Well just picture that.
So being the sensitive, new millennium type of guy I have become, I decided to buy it, it's very own frame, and give it it's very own place of honor on the wall of my humble and here too for, bachelor pad.
Look, I'll be honest, a home decorating genius I will never be. That would be a serious problem, if I had anything remotely resembling good taste.
Let's face it; I just ain't a haute couture kind of guy. Whatever haute couture is.
I'm not even sure I can spell the word correctly, so it doesn't matter that I'm not sure what it means.
But I'm wandering aimlessly here dear readers. As I was saying, I needed to find a frame for my priceless piece of art.
As I was cruising down the Inter State, I spotted a craft store. Thinking that that was how I originally found Texas, and that worked out pretty well for me, I pulled off the highway and headed in to the store.
There is nothing more ridiculous than a left handed writer, with slightly less than no experience in things artistic and crafty, entering an establishment of that ilk.
But we're talking about me here, so I ignored my own good sense and boldly entered where no man in his right mind ought to.
I really should have known better, but I did it anyway.
Those of you of the female persuasion who are reading this know full well that I had entered no man's land.
For you males, let this be a warning to you, and learn from my folly.
If you ever get the urge to enter one of these establishments, take a pass on it and get as far away as you possibly can.
They have a lot of stuff in these places, designed to confuse men.
They have stuff in them, which I am certain is only placed there to keep the men out, because they have absolutely no value for us.
The women know this, and they never would consider purchasing any of it. It is the first line of defense against our attempts to trespass into their peaceful territory.
Oh it's true they have a few men working in them, but I figured out that that is a ruse as well, designed to place a sense of false confidence in the unsuspecting male who dares to cross the line.
I walked deeper into the bowels of this place, wondering where the heck Clark, Alton Rich and the other single guys who attempt to decorate were when I needed them for support.
They had so much merchandise in there that I wandered like a zombie through the place, not daring to look too much for fear of confusing myself even more.
They hide the picture frames at the very back of the store, and as I wandered deeper into "Never Never Land" the panic feelings grew stronger with each step I took.
But I finally arrived at the frame section.
Did you know that if you are going to buy a picture frame, rule number one is you need to know what the picture dimensions are?
Neither did I!
I'd know better next time, but there is never going to be a next time, and you can take that to the bank!
Sometimes when making a decision, you have to take an educated guess. The print I had purchase was big, so I looked around and finally found the largest frame in the store. So I bravely grabbed it off the shelf and went back to the check out counter.
Finally I arrived at the cash and when the clerk looked up, it was a woman I knew. "What are you doing in here Steve?" she asked me.
"I bought a print and needed a frame for it."
"Oh, for your bachelor pad, huh?"
"Yeah, such as it is. You know, decorated in early depression motif. I'm trying to spruce it up."
There were several ladies in the line behind me, who apparently felt sorry for me and began to offer decorating advice designed to confuse me.
One very nice lady pointed at some flower arrangements. "You should get one of those for your place. That one there is really nice. And it half off today."
Dena the clerk jumped into the fray. "Yes, you should get it Steve."
"I don't do flowers. I'll over water them and kill them anyway. Besides, something that nice will make the rest of my stuff look even crappier than it already looks."
The very thoughtful lady who had pointed out the arrangement said, "They're not real. You don't need to water them." And she smiled condescendingly at me.
My jaw dropped.
They sure looked real to this uneducated eye.
"You mean… they have man proof plants now?"
They all started giggling at me.
Dena looked up from the register, "Of course they do Steve. Even you couldn't kill one of them."
"What do you have to do to them?" I wondered aloud.
"Oh, all you have to do is dust them once in a while." another lady in the line offered.
A let go with a relieved sigh, "Ok that settles it. No way I'm getting one of them. I don't do dusting. It's a bachelor pad."
I looked at Dena, took my bill, picked up my frame, and headed for the door as quickly as my scrawny legs could get me there.
"Thank you for the help ladies." I said and turned to the door and the safe and secure real world outside.
As I headed for my car I sang softly to myself.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to funky, I ain't no artsy, craftsy junkie."
I was thinking, which isn't a very good thing for me to do at times, about the last column. It's not an ego thing, but I was at the infamous Woodlands, Outdoor Garage Sale and Massacree, a couple of weeks ago, and in a fit of culture, I purchased a Print of a picture somebody had.
Had is the key word here, cause now it's mine all mine!!
And then, as I rode down the highway the other morning, I realized the danged thing was naked!
Unframed!
Unloved.
Naked to the world. Well just picture that.
So being the sensitive, new millennium type of guy I have become, I decided to buy it, it's very own frame, and give it it's very own place of honor on the wall of my humble and here too for, bachelor pad.
Look, I'll be honest, a home decorating genius I will never be. That would be a serious problem, if I had anything remotely resembling good taste.
Let's face it; I just ain't a haute couture kind of guy. Whatever haute couture is.
I'm not even sure I can spell the word correctly, so it doesn't matter that I'm not sure what it means.
But I'm wandering aimlessly here dear readers. As I was saying, I needed to find a frame for my priceless piece of art.
As I was cruising down the Inter State, I spotted a craft store. Thinking that that was how I originally found Texas, and that worked out pretty well for me, I pulled off the highway and headed in to the store.
There is nothing more ridiculous than a left handed writer, with slightly less than no experience in things artistic and crafty, entering an establishment of that ilk.
But we're talking about me here, so I ignored my own good sense and boldly entered where no man in his right mind ought to.
I really should have known better, but I did it anyway.
Those of you of the female persuasion who are reading this know full well that I had entered no man's land.
For you males, let this be a warning to you, and learn from my folly.
If you ever get the urge to enter one of these establishments, take a pass on it and get as far away as you possibly can.
They have a lot of stuff in these places, designed to confuse men.
They have stuff in them, which I am certain is only placed there to keep the men out, because they have absolutely no value for us.
The women know this, and they never would consider purchasing any of it. It is the first line of defense against our attempts to trespass into their peaceful territory.
Oh it's true they have a few men working in them, but I figured out that that is a ruse as well, designed to place a sense of false confidence in the unsuspecting male who dares to cross the line.
I walked deeper into the bowels of this place, wondering where the heck Clark, Alton Rich and the other single guys who attempt to decorate were when I needed them for support.
They had so much merchandise in there that I wandered like a zombie through the place, not daring to look too much for fear of confusing myself even more.
They hide the picture frames at the very back of the store, and as I wandered deeper into "Never Never Land" the panic feelings grew stronger with each step I took.
But I finally arrived at the frame section.
Did you know that if you are going to buy a picture frame, rule number one is you need to know what the picture dimensions are?
Neither did I!
I'd know better next time, but there is never going to be a next time, and you can take that to the bank!
Sometimes when making a decision, you have to take an educated guess. The print I had purchase was big, so I looked around and finally found the largest frame in the store. So I bravely grabbed it off the shelf and went back to the check out counter.
Finally I arrived at the cash and when the clerk looked up, it was a woman I knew. "What are you doing in here Steve?" she asked me.
"I bought a print and needed a frame for it."
"Oh, for your bachelor pad, huh?"
"Yeah, such as it is. You know, decorated in early depression motif. I'm trying to spruce it up."
There were several ladies in the line behind me, who apparently felt sorry for me and began to offer decorating advice designed to confuse me.
One very nice lady pointed at some flower arrangements. "You should get one of those for your place. That one there is really nice. And it half off today."
Dena the clerk jumped into the fray. "Yes, you should get it Steve."
"I don't do flowers. I'll over water them and kill them anyway. Besides, something that nice will make the rest of my stuff look even crappier than it already looks."
The very thoughtful lady who had pointed out the arrangement said, "They're not real. You don't need to water them." And she smiled condescendingly at me.
My jaw dropped.
They sure looked real to this uneducated eye.
"You mean… they have man proof plants now?"
They all started giggling at me.
Dena looked up from the register, "Of course they do Steve. Even you couldn't kill one of them."
"What do you have to do to them?" I wondered aloud.
"Oh, all you have to do is dust them once in a while." another lady in the line offered.
A let go with a relieved sigh, "Ok that settles it. No way I'm getting one of them. I don't do dusting. It's a bachelor pad."
I looked at Dena, took my bill, picked up my frame, and headed for the door as quickly as my scrawny legs could get me there.
"Thank you for the help ladies." I said and turned to the door and the safe and secure real world outside.
As I headed for my car I sang softly to myself.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to funky, I ain't no artsy, craftsy junkie."
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Decorate My Life - Time On My Hands
By Steve Bussiere
In my so called life, I have been involved in more ridiculous conversations than I dare to even begin to recall. But I believe I may have hit the penultimate one just last week.
The square table, with my buddies, is a safe haven, but at times I get reckless and begin to roam. Not a bad thing, normally. One must expand one's horizons from time to time, while in search of world peace, or at the very least, a modicum of sanity.
That was my mistake. I shall try to learn from it and hold it in my heart in the future.
Being an explorer is an exciting thing, because you are never quite certain when you are about to fall off the edge of the earth. So, like a fool, I pushed it.
"Clark's Corner", "Dusty Cox proprietor". The edge of the earth. Or at least as close as this boy will ever get to it.
If you have grammar check on your computer, try typing in what I just did. Scary stuff dear readers. Jeez, it did the green line again.
Let me see now, where was I before we got side tracked? Oh. Yes, Clark's corner. Where the girls are, …occasionally.
Well, upon my arrival in that sacred ground, who should I come across but Clark! And Alton! And Pete. And Rich. And a bunch of other single guys with seemingly no purpose in life other than to laugh.
We began chatting, and somehow the conversation turned to home decorating. It was likely started by one of the occasional girls that drop by to make sure we took our vitamins in the morning. They are all so maternal and caring and they know that we are useless Troggledites who deserve to live alone.
One of these caring young ladies spoke up. "So what is your theory on decorating Clark?"
"Decorting what?" Clark asked.
Clark is one sharp cookie and is not one to jump into a commitment without knowing the ramifications of his actions.
"Your home, what else would I be talking about?"
"Well, I don't know, you may have a bakery or something along those lines."
"Answer the question Clark. I'm curious." She continued.
Clark is not one to dive into anything before giving it a lot of thought.
There was a pregnant pause, before he replied.
"My credo has always been, always be sure that your carpet color matches the color of the adult beverage of your choice. And after that, do all of the rest of the decorating to match the carpet color."
I was astounded!!!
That was, upon reflection, probably the most sage decorating theory I have ever heard in my adult, or any other kind of life!.
I always knew that Clark held genius inside of him, but now, at long last he was sharing.
Sharing is a chick thing, and we were talking about chick stuff, so I guess he was caught up in the spirit of it all or something. Then she looked over at Rich. "Well what about you Rich? What is your perspective?"
"Oh, well I just find a girl to do it, and if it's screwed up, it's her fault, not mine."
Now I was in awe. Here I stood at Clark's corner, right in the Mensa neighborhood! These guys were brilliant!!!! I mean, who would have suspected.
Pete was next in the barrel. "What about you Pete?"
"I don't decorate." He responded. "I get buddy passes and fly women down here and I let them have a free rein. Then I just buy them dinner and a return pass back home."
So much wisdom!!!!
Such a little corner!!!!
I looked at the young lady, trying to be as inconspicuous a possible, and watched as she wrote down her notes.
"Alton." She said, "What about you?"
Alton just smiled. Alton always just smiles. Alton is the head Mensa guy.
His pause was even more pregnant than Clark's had been.
Of course Alton is a touch older than Clark, and all of the rest of us, and longevity breeds patience. So he was patiently, pregnant pausing, for a very long time.
"Maryilynn of course."
She looked up from her notebook. "Marilynn? She asked quizzically.
"Yeah," he replied "I decorate my place with pictures of Marilynn Monroe. Everybody knows that!"
"Why on earth would you do that?" she wondered aloud.
"Cause the guys all come over and after they see her, they don't notice anything else."
I had never realized that people I knew had put so much effort into decorating. It was a real epiphany.
"The Epiphany of Clark's Corner".
A sacred moment in my life!
I stood there, completely dumbfounded.
Well, at least until she turned to me.
"Steve?"
"Present." I answered,
"How about you? What's your spin on decorating? You know, you're swinging batchelor place."
"Sugar Plum Fairies!!" I thought to myself.
"Well," I had hesitated, trying to regroup myself, " I did my place in Early Depression."
"What the heck is Early Depression? " she wanted to know.
"Well. Basically, I have what I need to survive in there, not what some chick wants me to have."
"Really! How's it working?" she asked.
"Pretty well." I replied.
"How?" she wanted to know.
"Well, I get home, have a beer and if it's too ugly, …. I just take an anti depressant."
She just shook her head and walked away from the corner,
I can't figure out what I said wrong.
In my so called life, I have been involved in more ridiculous conversations than I dare to even begin to recall. But I believe I may have hit the penultimate one just last week.
The square table, with my buddies, is a safe haven, but at times I get reckless and begin to roam. Not a bad thing, normally. One must expand one's horizons from time to time, while in search of world peace, or at the very least, a modicum of sanity.
That was my mistake. I shall try to learn from it and hold it in my heart in the future.
Being an explorer is an exciting thing, because you are never quite certain when you are about to fall off the edge of the earth. So, like a fool, I pushed it.
"Clark's Corner", "Dusty Cox proprietor". The edge of the earth. Or at least as close as this boy will ever get to it.
If you have grammar check on your computer, try typing in what I just did. Scary stuff dear readers. Jeez, it did the green line again.
Let me see now, where was I before we got side tracked? Oh. Yes, Clark's corner. Where the girls are, …occasionally.
Well, upon my arrival in that sacred ground, who should I come across but Clark! And Alton! And Pete. And Rich. And a bunch of other single guys with seemingly no purpose in life other than to laugh.
We began chatting, and somehow the conversation turned to home decorating. It was likely started by one of the occasional girls that drop by to make sure we took our vitamins in the morning. They are all so maternal and caring and they know that we are useless Troggledites who deserve to live alone.
One of these caring young ladies spoke up. "So what is your theory on decorating Clark?"
"Decorting what?" Clark asked.
Clark is one sharp cookie and is not one to jump into a commitment without knowing the ramifications of his actions.
"Your home, what else would I be talking about?"
"Well, I don't know, you may have a bakery or something along those lines."
"Answer the question Clark. I'm curious." She continued.
Clark is not one to dive into anything before giving it a lot of thought.
There was a pregnant pause, before he replied.
"My credo has always been, always be sure that your carpet color matches the color of the adult beverage of your choice. And after that, do all of the rest of the decorating to match the carpet color."
I was astounded!!!
That was, upon reflection, probably the most sage decorating theory I have ever heard in my adult, or any other kind of life!.
I always knew that Clark held genius inside of him, but now, at long last he was sharing.
Sharing is a chick thing, and we were talking about chick stuff, so I guess he was caught up in the spirit of it all or something. Then she looked over at Rich. "Well what about you Rich? What is your perspective?"
"Oh, well I just find a girl to do it, and if it's screwed up, it's her fault, not mine."
Now I was in awe. Here I stood at Clark's corner, right in the Mensa neighborhood! These guys were brilliant!!!! I mean, who would have suspected.
Pete was next in the barrel. "What about you Pete?"
"I don't decorate." He responded. "I get buddy passes and fly women down here and I let them have a free rein. Then I just buy them dinner and a return pass back home."
So much wisdom!!!!
Such a little corner!!!!
I looked at the young lady, trying to be as inconspicuous a possible, and watched as she wrote down her notes.
"Alton." She said, "What about you?"
Alton just smiled. Alton always just smiles. Alton is the head Mensa guy.
His pause was even more pregnant than Clark's had been.
Of course Alton is a touch older than Clark, and all of the rest of us, and longevity breeds patience. So he was patiently, pregnant pausing, for a very long time.
"Maryilynn of course."
She looked up from her notebook. "Marilynn? She asked quizzically.
"Yeah," he replied "I decorate my place with pictures of Marilynn Monroe. Everybody knows that!"
"Why on earth would you do that?" she wondered aloud.
"Cause the guys all come over and after they see her, they don't notice anything else."
I had never realized that people I knew had put so much effort into decorating. It was a real epiphany.
"The Epiphany of Clark's Corner".
A sacred moment in my life!
I stood there, completely dumbfounded.
Well, at least until she turned to me.
"Steve?"
"Present." I answered,
"How about you? What's your spin on decorating? You know, you're swinging batchelor place."
"Sugar Plum Fairies!!" I thought to myself.
"Well," I had hesitated, trying to regroup myself, " I did my place in Early Depression."
"What the heck is Early Depression? " she wanted to know.
"Well. Basically, I have what I need to survive in there, not what some chick wants me to have."
"Really! How's it working?" she asked.
"Pretty well." I replied.
"How?" she wanted to know.
"Well, I get home, have a beer and if it's too ugly, …. I just take an anti depressant."
She just shook her head and walked away from the corner,
I can't figure out what I said wrong.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Take Me Out Of The Ballgame - Time On My Hands
By Steve Bussiere
Once every four years, I know exactly how those UN War Zone Observers are feeling. And this just happens to be one of those years.
Primaries, leading to fatality, or ecstasy, depending upon what corner you happen to be standing in. Andy, Bob, Phil and I were watching CNN the other day. Full coverage of the Primaries! Exciting stuff! The stuff that dreams are made of, if you happen to have that type of dream pattern.
"Who are you going to vote for Steve?" they wondered aloud.
"Nobody." I replied.
"Why in the world aren't you going to vote? It's your civic duty."
"Well, for one thing, I don't have my citizenship yet."
"That doesn't stop other people from doing it Steve."
"When are you going to get your citizenship? I thought you were working on it?" asked Bob.
"I'm watching the calendar closely guys. And I'm watching these primaries closely as well."
"I understand the primaries thing, but why the calendar?"
"Because, I don't want to be responsible, for a change."
"Responsible for what Steve?"
"For the next four years. I'm doing a very careful study of the entire system, the options and the fallout. I have to tell you, I'm not really ecstatic about what I'm seeing. And I'm studying for the exam. There's a long wait to get your citizenship, but I don't want to get it until after November."
"Ok Steve." Said Andy, "But if you had a vote today, who'd be your choice?"
I had to reply that I really didn't know, which was a relief.
I sat there, smugly thinking to myself that I was off the hook.
"Well, why don't you know?" they continued.
"I've been watching everything as an interested observer. I read the paper every day. I watch the reports on television. I read opinions on the Internet. And I listen to the radio as well."
"Whom do you listen to on the radio?"
"Well, lately I've been following that Rush Lim-Bah-Humbug fellow. You know the EIBS Network. You know, the Excellence In B.S. entity. He's very astute. He says so every day! But, even he doesn't like the choices, and he knows everything."
"I got an e mail a while ago with a picture of a bumper sticker on a car in Kentucky. It said, "Monica Lewinsky's ex-boyfriend's wife for President." I thought that was rather humorous, but told the truth about the options in a nutshell. I think all of this stuff is making me jaded."
"Well Bill was rather excited about his wife's chances."
"Yeah, but I figured all of that out. He heard it was an election year, but he's hard of hearing. He thought it was an erection year, and if his wife was to win, he'd have another shot at the Ova Office."
"Well she says she's better qualified than her opponent. She's done a lot."
"Yeah, I heard she's going to clean up The White House."
"I heard she did that for eight years, so I guess she is qualified. But then there was those Staff Infections that were happening. It'll be a huge job! Especially, if you're doing all that, as well as trying to clean up the rest of the world. You'd need a broom the size of a 747!"
"I hear she has one of those lined up. Air Force One!"
"Well then Steve, if you were a citizen, which party would you be affiliated with right now?"
"Neither. At the moment I'm still learning."
"I'm sure that that's a relief to both of them. But since you're studying for the exam, if you could pick anyone in America to lead the nation, who would you pick?"
"That's a tricky question. I would have said Groucho Marx, but then I'd be accused of being a Marxist. Not a good handle to have. But probably I'd say Will Rogers."
"He's dead Steve."
"I know. It's a shame, really. I think we need another person like him. Not a dead person, but a sensible one. The return of sensible times. In his day a lobbyist was someone who hung around in hotels, and they didn't let them run the country back in those days. They didn't even let them run the elevator."
"You're right Steve. I guess maybe people were a lot smarter back then!"
"Probably. They thought for themselves because they weren't bombarded with CNN or EIBS."
"Anyway, this is getting kind of old. What do you say we talk about religion now?"
Once every four years, I know exactly how those UN War Zone Observers are feeling. And this just happens to be one of those years.
Primaries, leading to fatality, or ecstasy, depending upon what corner you happen to be standing in. Andy, Bob, Phil and I were watching CNN the other day. Full coverage of the Primaries! Exciting stuff! The stuff that dreams are made of, if you happen to have that type of dream pattern.
"Who are you going to vote for Steve?" they wondered aloud.
"Nobody." I replied.
"Why in the world aren't you going to vote? It's your civic duty."
"Well, for one thing, I don't have my citizenship yet."
"That doesn't stop other people from doing it Steve."
"When are you going to get your citizenship? I thought you were working on it?" asked Bob.
"I'm watching the calendar closely guys. And I'm watching these primaries closely as well."
"I understand the primaries thing, but why the calendar?"
"Because, I don't want to be responsible, for a change."
"Responsible for what Steve?"
"For the next four years. I'm doing a very careful study of the entire system, the options and the fallout. I have to tell you, I'm not really ecstatic about what I'm seeing. And I'm studying for the exam. There's a long wait to get your citizenship, but I don't want to get it until after November."
"Ok Steve." Said Andy, "But if you had a vote today, who'd be your choice?"
I had to reply that I really didn't know, which was a relief.
I sat there, smugly thinking to myself that I was off the hook.
"Well, why don't you know?" they continued.
"I've been watching everything as an interested observer. I read the paper every day. I watch the reports on television. I read opinions on the Internet. And I listen to the radio as well."
"Whom do you listen to on the radio?"
"Well, lately I've been following that Rush Lim-Bah-Humbug fellow. You know the EIBS Network. You know, the Excellence In B.S. entity. He's very astute. He says so every day! But, even he doesn't like the choices, and he knows everything."
"I got an e mail a while ago with a picture of a bumper sticker on a car in Kentucky. It said, "Monica Lewinsky's ex-boyfriend's wife for President." I thought that was rather humorous, but told the truth about the options in a nutshell. I think all of this stuff is making me jaded."
"Well Bill was rather excited about his wife's chances."
"Yeah, but I figured all of that out. He heard it was an election year, but he's hard of hearing. He thought it was an erection year, and if his wife was to win, he'd have another shot at the Ova Office."
"Well she says she's better qualified than her opponent. She's done a lot."
"Yeah, I heard she's going to clean up The White House."
"I heard she did that for eight years, so I guess she is qualified. But then there was those Staff Infections that were happening. It'll be a huge job! Especially, if you're doing all that, as well as trying to clean up the rest of the world. You'd need a broom the size of a 747!"
"I hear she has one of those lined up. Air Force One!"
"Well then Steve, if you were a citizen, which party would you be affiliated with right now?"
"Neither. At the moment I'm still learning."
"I'm sure that that's a relief to both of them. But since you're studying for the exam, if you could pick anyone in America to lead the nation, who would you pick?"
"That's a tricky question. I would have said Groucho Marx, but then I'd be accused of being a Marxist. Not a good handle to have. But probably I'd say Will Rogers."
"He's dead Steve."
"I know. It's a shame, really. I think we need another person like him. Not a dead person, but a sensible one. The return of sensible times. In his day a lobbyist was someone who hung around in hotels, and they didn't let them run the country back in those days. They didn't even let them run the elevator."
"You're right Steve. I guess maybe people were a lot smarter back then!"
"Probably. They thought for themselves because they weren't bombarded with CNN or EIBS."
"Anyway, this is getting kind of old. What do you say we talk about religion now?"
Monday, March 3, 2008
Focus, Focus, Focus - Time On My Hands
By Steve Bussiere
I met Bob the other day, but to tell the truth I was a little out of sorts at the time. Well, to tell the real truth, I was probably a lot out of sorts. In retrospect, that may have been a good thing.
"What's up Steve?" he asked me.
Well, I'm not paranoid normally, but to be honest, I may have been a touch neurotic at the time.
"I don't know man." I responded. "Did you ever have a weird feeling about anything?"
"Only when I talk to you bud. Why?"
"Well, I was thinking about an old column I read in The Toronto Sun, years ago, and it started me thinking about things."
As I mentioned recently, I love to screw up Bob's mind and watch his face contort. I have to tell you that it isn't nearly as much fun when the tables are turned on you.
"Don't start thinking now Steve. It doesn't become you."
"Ah, you just don't understand Bob."
"Understand what Steve?"
"There was a guy back in the olden days, who had a column just like I do."
"And?"
"Well, he did a column on horoscope signs once. It was funny at the time, but now I think that maybe he knew what he was talking about."
"And why, pray tell would you think such an absurd thing?"
"Because I'm a fish."
"What? Are you going to school again or something?"
"No. I'm a Pisces man, the sign of the fish."
"Well, you drink like one sometimes, but what's the big deal?"
"The big deal is that he wrote a description of each of the zodiac signs, and they were kind of funny, but kind of true at the same time.
"Ok, so explain that one to me."
"Well Bob, for Pisces it said you are a paranoid person. You often think that you are being followed by the FBI or the CIA."
"I like it Steve. What did it say for Leo?"
"Well it was a long time ago, but I think it was something about Leo's being incredibly boring. They often fall asleep while making love and that they would make great bus drivers. I'm not really sure of that. It was back in 1974 or something, so my memory is a bit foggy."
"I'm a Leo Steve."
"Terminal. Everybody out please."
"Well anyway, what's the big deal about? Why are you suddenly feeling like it was true what the guy wrote?"
"Cause there's this weird guy who's been following me around with a cell phone."
"Really!"
"Yes, really! It's scary Bob."
"Why's that Steve? Is it because it's a guy?"
"No. It's partly because he's been following me around, but it's more than that. He holds the damn thing up in front of him like he's trying to exorcise an evil spirit or something."
"Really? So, is he one of those paparazzi guys, or what?"
"Shoot, I have no idea. But I know he's not a spy."
"How do you know that?"
"Spies are subtle man. They keep a low profile. I've read a lot of Ken Follett and Robert Ludlum stuff."
"So what do think he's up to?"
"Well, I've been giving that matter a lot of thought Bob, and he follows me with the danged cell phone all over the place, holding it up and trying to hide in the crowds, but I see him, only he has no idea that I do."
"Where does he do it?"
"Everywhere man, at The Ice House, parties, you name it."
"Well what do you think he's doing? He can't hurt you with a cell phone."
"That's what you think Bob. But you're wrong. Those things take video now. Video that can end up in places like "My Space" or "You Tube." We're living in dangerous times Bob. There are evil people everywhere. Greedy, evil people."
"Why do you think the guy is greedy Steve? I mean, I see the evil thing, kind of."
"I think he's trying to get incriminating stuff on me or something. I think he wants my job writing the column. It's an ego thing. And ego is evil, just like him, the greedy, evil person with the damn video shooting cell phone."
"Well Steve, you know that's kind of interesting."
"Why so Bob?"
"Some guy has been calling me and saying he wants to take over your column."
"So what did you tell him?"
"I told him that I don't care what kind of dirt he came up with. I do videos and that I know you can edit them and make anything look like anything you'd like. It's like splicing old movie takes together, only without the Scotch Tape."
"You're a very wise man Bob. How did he take it?"
"He didn't take it very well, to tell you the truth. But he still wants the job."
"So what did you say Bob?"
"I told him that it doesn't pay very well."
"Did that discourage him?"
"No, not really, I think it's an ego problem or something along those lines."
"Well did you say anything else to him?"
"Not really very much Steve, I told him I didn't care and that if he didn't like it he could just him to go tell it to the Judge."
"Thanks Bob. I feel a whole lot better now!"
I met Bob the other day, but to tell the truth I was a little out of sorts at the time. Well, to tell the real truth, I was probably a lot out of sorts. In retrospect, that may have been a good thing.
"What's up Steve?" he asked me.
Well, I'm not paranoid normally, but to be honest, I may have been a touch neurotic at the time.
"I don't know man." I responded. "Did you ever have a weird feeling about anything?"
"Only when I talk to you bud. Why?"
"Well, I was thinking about an old column I read in The Toronto Sun, years ago, and it started me thinking about things."
As I mentioned recently, I love to screw up Bob's mind and watch his face contort. I have to tell you that it isn't nearly as much fun when the tables are turned on you.
"Don't start thinking now Steve. It doesn't become you."
"Ah, you just don't understand Bob."
"Understand what Steve?"
"There was a guy back in the olden days, who had a column just like I do."
"And?"
"Well, he did a column on horoscope signs once. It was funny at the time, but now I think that maybe he knew what he was talking about."
"And why, pray tell would you think such an absurd thing?"
"Because I'm a fish."
"What? Are you going to school again or something?"
"No. I'm a Pisces man, the sign of the fish."
"Well, you drink like one sometimes, but what's the big deal?"
"The big deal is that he wrote a description of each of the zodiac signs, and they were kind of funny, but kind of true at the same time.
"Ok, so explain that one to me."
"Well Bob, for Pisces it said you are a paranoid person. You often think that you are being followed by the FBI or the CIA."
"I like it Steve. What did it say for Leo?"
"Well it was a long time ago, but I think it was something about Leo's being incredibly boring. They often fall asleep while making love and that they would make great bus drivers. I'm not really sure of that. It was back in 1974 or something, so my memory is a bit foggy."
"I'm a Leo Steve."
"Terminal. Everybody out please."
"Well anyway, what's the big deal about? Why are you suddenly feeling like it was true what the guy wrote?"
"Cause there's this weird guy who's been following me around with a cell phone."
"Really!"
"Yes, really! It's scary Bob."
"Why's that Steve? Is it because it's a guy?"
"No. It's partly because he's been following me around, but it's more than that. He holds the damn thing up in front of him like he's trying to exorcise an evil spirit or something."
"Really? So, is he one of those paparazzi guys, or what?"
"Shoot, I have no idea. But I know he's not a spy."
"How do you know that?"
"Spies are subtle man. They keep a low profile. I've read a lot of Ken Follett and Robert Ludlum stuff."
"So what do think he's up to?"
"Well, I've been giving that matter a lot of thought Bob, and he follows me with the danged cell phone all over the place, holding it up and trying to hide in the crowds, but I see him, only he has no idea that I do."
"Where does he do it?"
"Everywhere man, at The Ice House, parties, you name it."
"Well what do you think he's doing? He can't hurt you with a cell phone."
"That's what you think Bob. But you're wrong. Those things take video now. Video that can end up in places like "My Space" or "You Tube." We're living in dangerous times Bob. There are evil people everywhere. Greedy, evil people."
"Why do you think the guy is greedy Steve? I mean, I see the evil thing, kind of."
"I think he's trying to get incriminating stuff on me or something. I think he wants my job writing the column. It's an ego thing. And ego is evil, just like him, the greedy, evil person with the damn video shooting cell phone."
"Well Steve, you know that's kind of interesting."
"Why so Bob?"
"Some guy has been calling me and saying he wants to take over your column."
"So what did you tell him?"
"I told him that I don't care what kind of dirt he came up with. I do videos and that I know you can edit them and make anything look like anything you'd like. It's like splicing old movie takes together, only without the Scotch Tape."
"You're a very wise man Bob. How did he take it?"
"He didn't take it very well, to tell you the truth. But he still wants the job."
"So what did you say Bob?"
"I told him that it doesn't pay very well."
"Did that discourage him?"
"No, not really, I think it's an ego problem or something along those lines."
"Well did you say anything else to him?"
"Not really very much Steve, I told him I didn't care and that if he didn't like it he could just him to go tell it to the Judge."
"Thanks Bob. I feel a whole lot better now!"
Monday, February 25, 2008
Too Loose To Trek - Time On My Hands
By Steve Bussiere
I have, in my life, a few simple rules for life which are cast in stone.
Unfortunately, there are times that I inadvertently forget about them.
Ok, I'm human, and therefore prone to making errors from time to time, but I really wish I could cut down on the number of times I am forced to remind myself.
For instance, a couple of weeks ago my telephone rang. I glanced at the number on the display and saw an area code from which I have never been harassed.
Boredom is a dangerous thing.
Drinking a beer while wading through boredom, enhances the experience to the level that even I, with my tremendous (at times) self-control, am unable to pass up the opportunity to make a new friend.
So, being in my human state that evening, I reached out and picked up the telephone.
"Hello." I said.
Well I don't know about the rest of you folks, but when I do that to a previously unknown caller, I eagerly anticipate the warmth of a human voice, even if it's only attempting to entice me into purchasing something I neither need nor desire.
I normally hate automated phone calls, but as I said, I was really bored that night. So I listened intently. It was an automated survey.
Being bored and lonely and in need of some entertainment, I started pushing numbers randomly on the phone pad.
I guess they don't really check your answers against each other, because I responded that I was a male to one question and that I was pregnant to another.
I wonder if Pinnochio had stretch marks on his nose?
Well to make a long story short, at the end of the call I was informed that in appreciation for my taking this little exercise so seriously, I had been awarded an all expenses paid cruise for two to the Bahamas.
I hung up the phone after giving the automated operator my contact info and was informed that a representative from the cruise line would be contacting me to settle all of the arrangements for my cruise.
Well I may be a lot of things, but I was born at night, it just wasn't last night, so I sat and chuckled to myself, waiting for the baby to move in my womb.
When I told One Draft Phil, Andy and Bob about it the next day, we all had a chuckle over it.
A week went by and I had heard absolutely nothing from the cruise line, which surprised none of the square table charter members.
My son borrowed my car the other evening, and the next day I looked in the cup holder and there was all kinds of change in it.
It was my son's change. So I thought to myself that I was pretty lucky to find all of this money, even if it was only the change from the money I had given him in order that some fast food joint would remain solvent for another day.
When I arrived home that evening, there was voice mail on my phone, so I picked it up and went into shock when I discovered it was a representative of the cruise line wanting to get the details for my free cruise.
Then I thought about the cruise, which made me think about the movie Pirates of the Caribbean, which reminded me of the booty I had discovered in the cup holder that morning.
I've been on a cruise in the Western Caribbean before, but the Bahamas sounded intriguing.
I was torn inside.
Cruises are fun, but they have a limited history of ending really badly for me, so I was not nearly as ecstatic as a pregnant person should be over such a wonderful opportunity.
Bob wanted to know who I was going to take with me on this excursion into Wonderland.
"I'm not sure yet." I replied. "I think maybe this time I'll just take some woman I can't stand."
"Why would you do that?" Bob wanted to know.
"It's called defensive cruising Bob. You know, it's a variation on defensive driving, .. or dating."
I love to confuse Bob. He contorts his face into all kinds of ridiculous looking positions when I do it.
"Explain it to me." He continued. "I really have to hear this one!"
"Well, it's really very simple Bob. If I were to go with someone I really liked and it worked out like the last one, I'd just get hurt again. This time, when it doesn't work out, it'll be a happy ending for me. And you know how much I like happy endings."
"So who's the unlucky victim going to be? Have you given it any thought?"
"No, I haven't had enough time to yet." I replied.
"Heck maybe I just won't go on it."
"Are you nuts Steve? It's FREE man!"
"Nobody rides for free Bob, especially on The Love Boat."
"But think of all of that food you'll be passing up! Seafood, roast beef, I mean all kinds of amazing dishes. You've got to go!"
"Why am I not surprised that you thought of food Bob?"
"Well that's only one reason. There's a bunch of others I'll think of later Steve."
"Well, there may very well be Bob, but I don't want to hear them."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not sure I want to go. I could get in a lot of trouble."
Bob smiled, shook his head and told me that I was being stupid.
"Not really Bob. I mean what if I go and they check the answers I punched in on the phone that night? I could be in a lot of trouble."
"How, could you be in a lot of trouble Steve?"
"Well for one thing, when they se me, they'll probably realize that I'm not really pregnant.
And there was other stuff I think I made up too."
"Hey, what can they possibly do Steve? You'll be in the middle of the Caribbean by then."
"Well, do you remember that when I made up all of those answers I was bored?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Well it made me think of the other spelling for bored, b o a r d."
"Yeah, like in all aboard, right?"
"No. Like a board, board. I don't want to walk the plank Bob. There are sharks and stuff out there."
"Not enough meat on you to interest them Steve."
"Maybe not now, but remember I'm eating for two these days."
"I'll take it under consideration Steve."
"Thanks Bob, but maybe you should go with me."
"Why would I go with you?"
"We could be Pirates man."
"You're already a loose cannon Steve."
"Yup. Full speed ahead matey!"
I have, in my life, a few simple rules for life which are cast in stone.
Unfortunately, there are times that I inadvertently forget about them.
Ok, I'm human, and therefore prone to making errors from time to time, but I really wish I could cut down on the number of times I am forced to remind myself.
For instance, a couple of weeks ago my telephone rang. I glanced at the number on the display and saw an area code from which I have never been harassed.
Boredom is a dangerous thing.
Drinking a beer while wading through boredom, enhances the experience to the level that even I, with my tremendous (at times) self-control, am unable to pass up the opportunity to make a new friend.
So, being in my human state that evening, I reached out and picked up the telephone.
"Hello." I said.
Well I don't know about the rest of you folks, but when I do that to a previously unknown caller, I eagerly anticipate the warmth of a human voice, even if it's only attempting to entice me into purchasing something I neither need nor desire.
I normally hate automated phone calls, but as I said, I was really bored that night. So I listened intently. It was an automated survey.
Being bored and lonely and in need of some entertainment, I started pushing numbers randomly on the phone pad.
I guess they don't really check your answers against each other, because I responded that I was a male to one question and that I was pregnant to another.
I wonder if Pinnochio had stretch marks on his nose?
Well to make a long story short, at the end of the call I was informed that in appreciation for my taking this little exercise so seriously, I had been awarded an all expenses paid cruise for two to the Bahamas.
I hung up the phone after giving the automated operator my contact info and was informed that a representative from the cruise line would be contacting me to settle all of the arrangements for my cruise.
Well I may be a lot of things, but I was born at night, it just wasn't last night, so I sat and chuckled to myself, waiting for the baby to move in my womb.
When I told One Draft Phil, Andy and Bob about it the next day, we all had a chuckle over it.
A week went by and I had heard absolutely nothing from the cruise line, which surprised none of the square table charter members.
My son borrowed my car the other evening, and the next day I looked in the cup holder and there was all kinds of change in it.
It was my son's change. So I thought to myself that I was pretty lucky to find all of this money, even if it was only the change from the money I had given him in order that some fast food joint would remain solvent for another day.
When I arrived home that evening, there was voice mail on my phone, so I picked it up and went into shock when I discovered it was a representative of the cruise line wanting to get the details for my free cruise.
Then I thought about the cruise, which made me think about the movie Pirates of the Caribbean, which reminded me of the booty I had discovered in the cup holder that morning.
I've been on a cruise in the Western Caribbean before, but the Bahamas sounded intriguing.
I was torn inside.
Cruises are fun, but they have a limited history of ending really badly for me, so I was not nearly as ecstatic as a pregnant person should be over such a wonderful opportunity.
Bob wanted to know who I was going to take with me on this excursion into Wonderland.
"I'm not sure yet." I replied. "I think maybe this time I'll just take some woman I can't stand."
"Why would you do that?" Bob wanted to know.
"It's called defensive cruising Bob. You know, it's a variation on defensive driving, .. or dating."
I love to confuse Bob. He contorts his face into all kinds of ridiculous looking positions when I do it.
"Explain it to me." He continued. "I really have to hear this one!"
"Well, it's really very simple Bob. If I were to go with someone I really liked and it worked out like the last one, I'd just get hurt again. This time, when it doesn't work out, it'll be a happy ending for me. And you know how much I like happy endings."
"So who's the unlucky victim going to be? Have you given it any thought?"
"No, I haven't had enough time to yet." I replied.
"Heck maybe I just won't go on it."
"Are you nuts Steve? It's FREE man!"
"Nobody rides for free Bob, especially on The Love Boat."
"But think of all of that food you'll be passing up! Seafood, roast beef, I mean all kinds of amazing dishes. You've got to go!"
"Why am I not surprised that you thought of food Bob?"
"Well that's only one reason. There's a bunch of others I'll think of later Steve."
"Well, there may very well be Bob, but I don't want to hear them."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not sure I want to go. I could get in a lot of trouble."
Bob smiled, shook his head and told me that I was being stupid.
"Not really Bob. I mean what if I go and they check the answers I punched in on the phone that night? I could be in a lot of trouble."
"How, could you be in a lot of trouble Steve?"
"Well for one thing, when they se me, they'll probably realize that I'm not really pregnant.
And there was other stuff I think I made up too."
"Hey, what can they possibly do Steve? You'll be in the middle of the Caribbean by then."
"Well, do you remember that when I made up all of those answers I was bored?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Well it made me think of the other spelling for bored, b o a r d."
"Yeah, like in all aboard, right?"
"No. Like a board, board. I don't want to walk the plank Bob. There are sharks and stuff out there."
"Not enough meat on you to interest them Steve."
"Maybe not now, but remember I'm eating for two these days."
"I'll take it under consideration Steve."
"Thanks Bob, but maybe you should go with me."
"Why would I go with you?"
"We could be Pirates man."
"You're already a loose cannon Steve."
"Yup. Full speed ahead matey!"
Thursday, February 14, 2008
I Love The Flower Girl - Time On My Hands
By Steve Bussiere
Sometimes I have no idea how my mind works. I think my thought processes are fundamentally flawed. Well either that or they are damaged. I guess it's pointless to speculate anyway. They are what they are, so I simply have to accept them.
For instance, just the other day I ran into my old buddy Johnny Matador. That's not his real surname, but he told me he wants to be in my next book, and that furthermore he wants to be a dangerous guy in it.
Johnny is a great person. He is always kind to everyone and he is one of the most upbeat people I have ever met.
He is a lot of very wonderful things, but he is flawed like my mind is, according to some people, who I believe are not very bright. And when you are not very bright you cast shadows instead of light, and you can't see. And when you can't see you are simply blind and not necessarily stupid.
Johnny Matador is what they call "Physically Challenged". He is confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his days. Something he doesn't let change his attitude about life.
Some days I wish I were a lot more like Johnny Matador and less like Steve.
At any rate, after we talked for a while, we headed on our separate ways. I was smiling when I left him, because he always reminds me about all that is right in the world.
Well, thinking about all this sweetness and light started me thinking that the Valentines Day pressure I was now under, you know, saving the world economy and all of that. Which got me thinking about flowers.
Well thinking about flowers, made me remember my former mother-in-law. She always loved me, and is a wonderful lady, but I never hear from her anymore. When she was born, her mother named her after a flower. So it was beginning to make sense to me, the reason my mind was bouncing around like a ping pong ball.
In a mode of self-preservation I stopped thinking about my former mother-in-law.
Close call, but I made it!!!
After that, I drew a deep breath, but I couldn't get "flowers" out of my mind.
I remembered that I don't have to get any for anyone this year, and I smiled in relief.
Never get over confident, because you will inevitably stumble and injure yourself. Jeez, I wish I didn't keep forgetting that.
I'm not sure why my next thought hit me.
It may have been seeing Johnny Matador and his sunny outlook from his chair.
Or it may have been the thought of my former mother-in-law and her flowery name.
It was more likely a combination of the two.
But I began to think of a very special friend I've been close to over the years.
She is probably the sweetest woman I have ever known.
And she is likely the most caring mother I will ever meet.
Then I thought about her daughter.
I won't mention her name here, but she, like my former mother-in-law, is named after a flower. Not the same flower, but a flower none the less.
I have to admit that I smiled again, as I remembered her.
She is a lot like Johnny Matador, in many ways.
She is always happy.
She is always smiling.
She is always sharing her love with everyone she meets. And she puts more smiles on people's faces than Hershey's chocolate does.
But Hershey's chocolate, as sweet as it is, will never come close to being as sweet as my friend's daughter.
She also has a wheelchair, just like Johnny.
She has a lot of other issues too, both physical as well as mentally.
Well, that is the opinion of others.
In my personal opinion, she is absolutely adorable just the way she is.
We used to talk about a lot of things together. The types of things you would discuss with your children, when they young and innocent and the world was a good place to be child like.
We used to talk about really important things, like being loved and cared about.
She would tell me how the night before, Prince Charming had visited her in her dreams.
"Did he give you a hug?" I would ask her.
She would giggle and blush and say that indeed he had.
"Well then, did he kiss you too?" I asked.
And she giggled some more, blushed even more, and said, "Yes he did Steve." And she would pause and continue, "But only on my cheek."
"Well, that's good then. Isn't it?" I asked.
"Yes, it is Steve." And she giggled some more.
I have to admit that all of this Prince Charming stuff had piqued my curiosity.
"So, is he handsome sweetie?"
She sure giggles a lot, "Yes he is Steve. He's even cuter than you!"
I still like to think that was a compliment. I learned that optimism from her.
And then I thought to myself that we are such fools. We call a beautiful person like that "Mentally and physically challenged".
It makes me wonder which of us fits that description better, she or I?
Johnny Matador inspires me the same way.
And then I thought about it some more.
I thought of Valentine's Day some more, as well.
And then I rethought my entire position on the day.
I love that young lady and everything about her. And I love the inspiration she has given me since I met her.
She always tells me she loves me.
I always tell her she's gorgeous.
She always giggles when I tell her that.
So I wandered over to my computer, fired it up and got online.
This Valentine's Day, she will be receiving an e-card from Prince Charming.
The lucky guy!
And I love the flower girl!!
Sometimes I have no idea how my mind works. I think my thought processes are fundamentally flawed. Well either that or they are damaged. I guess it's pointless to speculate anyway. They are what they are, so I simply have to accept them.
For instance, just the other day I ran into my old buddy Johnny Matador. That's not his real surname, but he told me he wants to be in my next book, and that furthermore he wants to be a dangerous guy in it.
Johnny is a great person. He is always kind to everyone and he is one of the most upbeat people I have ever met.
He is a lot of very wonderful things, but he is flawed like my mind is, according to some people, who I believe are not very bright. And when you are not very bright you cast shadows instead of light, and you can't see. And when you can't see you are simply blind and not necessarily stupid.
Johnny Matador is what they call "Physically Challenged". He is confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his days. Something he doesn't let change his attitude about life.
Some days I wish I were a lot more like Johnny Matador and less like Steve.
At any rate, after we talked for a while, we headed on our separate ways. I was smiling when I left him, because he always reminds me about all that is right in the world.
Well, thinking about all this sweetness and light started me thinking that the Valentines Day pressure I was now under, you know, saving the world economy and all of that. Which got me thinking about flowers.
Well thinking about flowers, made me remember my former mother-in-law. She always loved me, and is a wonderful lady, but I never hear from her anymore. When she was born, her mother named her after a flower. So it was beginning to make sense to me, the reason my mind was bouncing around like a ping pong ball.
In a mode of self-preservation I stopped thinking about my former mother-in-law.
Close call, but I made it!!!
After that, I drew a deep breath, but I couldn't get "flowers" out of my mind.
I remembered that I don't have to get any for anyone this year, and I smiled in relief.
Never get over confident, because you will inevitably stumble and injure yourself. Jeez, I wish I didn't keep forgetting that.
I'm not sure why my next thought hit me.
It may have been seeing Johnny Matador and his sunny outlook from his chair.
Or it may have been the thought of my former mother-in-law and her flowery name.
It was more likely a combination of the two.
But I began to think of a very special friend I've been close to over the years.
She is probably the sweetest woman I have ever known.
And she is likely the most caring mother I will ever meet.
Then I thought about her daughter.
I won't mention her name here, but she, like my former mother-in-law, is named after a flower. Not the same flower, but a flower none the less.
I have to admit that I smiled again, as I remembered her.
She is a lot like Johnny Matador, in many ways.
She is always happy.
She is always smiling.
She is always sharing her love with everyone she meets. And she puts more smiles on people's faces than Hershey's chocolate does.
But Hershey's chocolate, as sweet as it is, will never come close to being as sweet as my friend's daughter.
She also has a wheelchair, just like Johnny.
She has a lot of other issues too, both physical as well as mentally.
Well, that is the opinion of others.
In my personal opinion, she is absolutely adorable just the way she is.
We used to talk about a lot of things together. The types of things you would discuss with your children, when they young and innocent and the world was a good place to be child like.
We used to talk about really important things, like being loved and cared about.
She would tell me how the night before, Prince Charming had visited her in her dreams.
"Did he give you a hug?" I would ask her.
She would giggle and blush and say that indeed he had.
"Well then, did he kiss you too?" I asked.
And she giggled some more, blushed even more, and said, "Yes he did Steve." And she would pause and continue, "But only on my cheek."
"Well, that's good then. Isn't it?" I asked.
"Yes, it is Steve." And she giggled some more.
I have to admit that all of this Prince Charming stuff had piqued my curiosity.
"So, is he handsome sweetie?"
She sure giggles a lot, "Yes he is Steve. He's even cuter than you!"
I still like to think that was a compliment. I learned that optimism from her.
And then I thought to myself that we are such fools. We call a beautiful person like that "Mentally and physically challenged".
It makes me wonder which of us fits that description better, she or I?
Johnny Matador inspires me the same way.
And then I thought about it some more.
I thought of Valentine's Day some more, as well.
And then I rethought my entire position on the day.
I love that young lady and everything about her. And I love the inspiration she has given me since I met her.
She always tells me she loves me.
I always tell her she's gorgeous.
She always giggles when I tell her that.
So I wandered over to my computer, fired it up and got online.
This Valentine's Day, she will be receiving an e-card from Prince Charming.
The lucky guy!
And I love the flower girl!!
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Culture Club - Time On My Hands
By Steve Bussiere
There are times in my life when I am blessed with clarity.
I am taken back in time and the minutest of details surrounding a situation are alive and real. I think everyone has these moments from time to time. Anyone who was around when JFK was assassinated is able to recall exactly where they were and what they were doing, with total clarity. Unfortunately, not all memories are that precise, but that doesn't discount their validity as far as I know.
I had one these cloudier, unspiritual moments at the grocery store yesterday. This isn't unusual I suppose, I have a lot of unspiritual moments in the grocery store, depending on the other clientele in there. These people are completely focused on quality, freshness, price and other ridiculous things.
I'm usually focused on the more aesthetic side of things as I browse.
You have to be careful when you focus on that because you could get slapped in the face if you aren't.
I went in the store to browse, trying to decide upon just what I should destroy for dinner.
Self control is of the utmost importance in the grocery store. It's just as important as which size basket you begin with.
I have, over the years, come up with my own set of rules for grocery shopping, which I vainly attempt to strictly adhere to.
Never shop when you are hungry.
Never shop when you have had more than one adult beverage, this rule works in singles bars just as effectively.
Never shop when you are depressed.
Never shop when you are elated, because that may even be worse for everything in your life.
Never shop when you don't have a clue as to what you want to get, because you get a lot more than you bargained for, which is not a bargain.
Never look at women in the store because you lose your focus, and it reverts back to the previous rule.
And certain aisles must be avoided at all times because they put them in there to tempt you.
So now I hate grocery shopping almost as much as I despise the mall.
Danger in merchandising!
Defensive shopping! That is my new motto.
Well, despite my own, pure intentions, I entered the store yesterday, blindly ignoring most, if not all of the rules for shopping I have set out.
So I ended up with a lot of stuff I don't like, but may use someday if I'm lucky.
I raced through the store with a small hand held basket, looking at women, losing focus and going down the bloody temptation aisles. A sheep being led to slaughter, so to speak.
I looked at my basket, blushed furiously, and returned to the front to exchange it for a cart, because they are easier to push than to carry.
After I had picked out all of this stuff I'll probably never use, I pushed the Titanic toward the cash.
They sell DVD Movies in there now. I remember a time when movies weren't considered groceries, but evolution is in perpetual motion.
I looked at the shelf and saw "Les Miserables".
That was when I had another less than completely lucid moment.
I went back in my mind to the late eighties or early nineties. That was as clear as I could get on it.
It was one of my many birthdays. I remembered back. I was living north of Toronto at the time, and having recently spent some time there, I try not to think of that place as much as is humanly possible.
My mother gave me a card. I opened it up and there were tickets to see "Les Miserables".
I grimaced and then smiled and thanked her for the lovely gift.
"Stephen" she said to me, "It's time you acquired some culture."
Well, I couldn't bear to tell her at the time, but culture was probably the last thing in the world I was looking for. Culture is in yogurt, and I hate yogurt. So I wanted absolutely nothing to do with any of this. But I didn't say it aloud. My mother raised me a lot better than that, and you have to always respect your parents. Oh, I must remember to share that little piece of wisdom with my kids some day.
So on the appointed date and time, I entered the theater and we took our seats. Thrilled with the knowledge that I was about to become "Yogurt Man" and the resulting cultural enlightenment I would be able to pass along to my children, when their time arrived.
Hey, it was alright, kind of. But they sing too much for my liking, maybe because I didn't know the words. … nor the tunes.
Finally they stopped, and the curtain fell. I smiled. Kind of a stupid ending, but I was being released for good behavior.
NOT!
"Come on Stephen, let's step out for a breath of fresh air. We have about fifteen minutes for intermission."
"Dear God! Save me from the Ying Yangs!" I cried out in my mind.
"No, not yet." came the silent answer from above.
So, far too quickly I returned to my seat. It was only half way through and my butt was already really sore.
In retrospect it really was quite the production. There were all kinds of scantily clad fat women running around on the stage singing about something I hope to never understand, or even remember.
Well, when the production mercifully ended, my mother asked me what I thought of it.
"It was really long. You sure got great value for the tickets. Especially if the price was based on a per minute cost, when you bought them."
My mother is a Saint, and a patient one at that, so she simply smiled and replied, "I'm glad you liked it, Honey."
I kissed her cheek, rubbed my own sore cheeks, and left to return home to a soft chair.
Last night, I looked at the DVD, remembered my mother's gracious gift, smiled at the memory, picked up the movie and went to the check out counter.
After paying, I went back to my car. I looked back at the grocery store. I thought about my mother, and smiled.
I thought about watching my newly purchased DVD.
I rubbed my cheeks and a tear rolled down my other cheek as I got into my car.
"Yogurt Man has left the grocery store." I thought as I drove out of the parking lot.
There are times in my life when I am blessed with clarity.
I am taken back in time and the minutest of details surrounding a situation are alive and real. I think everyone has these moments from time to time. Anyone who was around when JFK was assassinated is able to recall exactly where they were and what they were doing, with total clarity. Unfortunately, not all memories are that precise, but that doesn't discount their validity as far as I know.
I had one these cloudier, unspiritual moments at the grocery store yesterday. This isn't unusual I suppose, I have a lot of unspiritual moments in the grocery store, depending on the other clientele in there. These people are completely focused on quality, freshness, price and other ridiculous things.
I'm usually focused on the more aesthetic side of things as I browse.
You have to be careful when you focus on that because you could get slapped in the face if you aren't.
I went in the store to browse, trying to decide upon just what I should destroy for dinner.
Self control is of the utmost importance in the grocery store. It's just as important as which size basket you begin with.
I have, over the years, come up with my own set of rules for grocery shopping, which I vainly attempt to strictly adhere to.
Never shop when you are hungry.
Never shop when you have had more than one adult beverage, this rule works in singles bars just as effectively.
Never shop when you are depressed.
Never shop when you are elated, because that may even be worse for everything in your life.
Never shop when you don't have a clue as to what you want to get, because you get a lot more than you bargained for, which is not a bargain.
Never look at women in the store because you lose your focus, and it reverts back to the previous rule.
And certain aisles must be avoided at all times because they put them in there to tempt you.
So now I hate grocery shopping almost as much as I despise the mall.
Danger in merchandising!
Defensive shopping! That is my new motto.
Well, despite my own, pure intentions, I entered the store yesterday, blindly ignoring most, if not all of the rules for shopping I have set out.
So I ended up with a lot of stuff I don't like, but may use someday if I'm lucky.
I raced through the store with a small hand held basket, looking at women, losing focus and going down the bloody temptation aisles. A sheep being led to slaughter, so to speak.
I looked at my basket, blushed furiously, and returned to the front to exchange it for a cart, because they are easier to push than to carry.
After I had picked out all of this stuff I'll probably never use, I pushed the Titanic toward the cash.
They sell DVD Movies in there now. I remember a time when movies weren't considered groceries, but evolution is in perpetual motion.
I looked at the shelf and saw "Les Miserables".
That was when I had another less than completely lucid moment.
I went back in my mind to the late eighties or early nineties. That was as clear as I could get on it.
It was one of my many birthdays. I remembered back. I was living north of Toronto at the time, and having recently spent some time there, I try not to think of that place as much as is humanly possible.
My mother gave me a card. I opened it up and there were tickets to see "Les Miserables".
I grimaced and then smiled and thanked her for the lovely gift.
"Stephen" she said to me, "It's time you acquired some culture."
Well, I couldn't bear to tell her at the time, but culture was probably the last thing in the world I was looking for. Culture is in yogurt, and I hate yogurt. So I wanted absolutely nothing to do with any of this. But I didn't say it aloud. My mother raised me a lot better than that, and you have to always respect your parents. Oh, I must remember to share that little piece of wisdom with my kids some day.
So on the appointed date and time, I entered the theater and we took our seats. Thrilled with the knowledge that I was about to become "Yogurt Man" and the resulting cultural enlightenment I would be able to pass along to my children, when their time arrived.
Hey, it was alright, kind of. But they sing too much for my liking, maybe because I didn't know the words. … nor the tunes.
Finally they stopped, and the curtain fell. I smiled. Kind of a stupid ending, but I was being released for good behavior.
NOT!
"Come on Stephen, let's step out for a breath of fresh air. We have about fifteen minutes for intermission."
"Dear God! Save me from the Ying Yangs!" I cried out in my mind.
"No, not yet." came the silent answer from above.
So, far too quickly I returned to my seat. It was only half way through and my butt was already really sore.
In retrospect it really was quite the production. There were all kinds of scantily clad fat women running around on the stage singing about something I hope to never understand, or even remember.
Well, when the production mercifully ended, my mother asked me what I thought of it.
"It was really long. You sure got great value for the tickets. Especially if the price was based on a per minute cost, when you bought them."
My mother is a Saint, and a patient one at that, so she simply smiled and replied, "I'm glad you liked it, Honey."
I kissed her cheek, rubbed my own sore cheeks, and left to return home to a soft chair.
Last night, I looked at the DVD, remembered my mother's gracious gift, smiled at the memory, picked up the movie and went to the check out counter.
After paying, I went back to my car. I looked back at the grocery store. I thought about my mother, and smiled.
I thought about watching my newly purchased DVD.
I rubbed my cheeks and a tear rolled down my other cheek as I got into my car.
"Yogurt Man has left the grocery store." I thought as I drove out of the parking lot.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Nights At The Square Table - Time On My Hands
By Steve Bussiere
The older I get, the more quickly things happen. Well, most things anyway.
I was checking my calendar the other day and I realized the annual St. Valentines Day love fest is fast approaching. Someday I'll look back and discover where January disappeared. Not a bad thing, I hate January. Football is nearly gone for another year.
I have never been a fan of round ball, likely because I can't jump. Or shoot straight. Or run anymore. I have a maximum attention span of about three nanoseconds for watching the NBA.
I actually prefer Valentines Day to watching basketball.
That was when I remembered about the glass being half full this year. So I ventured out to Papa's to find Bob, Andy, Rick and One draft Phil. An island of sanity, in this otherwise, turbulent world we live in.
Much to my dismay, not one of them was there when I arrived. So I did something foolish and started thinking. You shouldn't do things like that when you are by yourself. If you aren't crazy to begin with, you'll quickly end up there.
There are times in my life when I wish I could listen to my own advice. Such as right then, when I started thinking.
I began to think of my old sweetie, and how she would disapprove of my having a good time with my buddies. It's a standard female characteristic from all of the feedback I have received from the other fun loving lunatics in my life. So I put the brakes on those thoughts, narrowly escaping a dreaded act of self-conscience.
Whew!!! That was so close, it frightened me.
But I was still faced with the Valentines Day thing, when the tres loco amigos came in through different doors. Guardian Angels come in strange shapes and sizes these days. But hey, never look a gifted Guardian Angel in the mouth. So I picked up my beer and wandered over to The Square Table, to join the late arrivals.
"What's happening Steve?" Rick asked.
"I was just thinking. I hate thinking. It's a good thing you all came in to save me from myself."
"What, pray tell, were you thinking about?" Bob wanted to know.
"I was thinking about the glass being half full."
"It's not half full Steve. It's completely full."
"It's tough enough to get to the half full point. Don't go getting too optimistic on me."
Bob looked at me, dumbfounded. "I just got here. I haven't even taken a sip yet. It's completely full." He shook his head and took a sip.
"I meant, attitude Bob. The glass is half full this year. Remember?"
"OHHHH! Now I'm with you. So enlighten us."
"Well, I was at the store and they have all kinds of Valentines Day stuff, all over the place. And that got me thinking about my sweetie, who is not my sweetie any longer. Jeez, it's almost Valentine's Day, and I have no one special in my life. I mean, I'm not even a lousy Insignificant Other any more."
"Man, that sounds depressing Steve. "
"That's what I thought too, Rick. But then I realized, I don't have to buy anything for anyone this year. Not even a card! It's a good thing. Think of all of the money I'm saving!"
"Now that's the attitude Steve. See the glass is on it's way to being half full, already." Said One Draft Phil.
"Yeah, you're right Phil. And furthermore it's good for the entire eco system as well, which is a good thing for the global warming problem."
That was the very first time I have ever heard complete silence from the three of them when they have been together. They all looked at me and shook their heads in united disbelief.
"I'm serious guys. Look no trees are going to be murdered because I needed to get a ridiculous card which, will end up in the trash and then on to land fill. And not one flower on the planet is in life threatening danger because of my selfish, lustful ways. No cows are going to be stripped of their milk to make stupid chocolates for some woman who'll end up breaking my heart anyway. And not a single steer will be led to slaughter in order that I provide a fine steak dinner for her either. And it saves the latex supply as well. So, it's all good!"
Andy worries about me.
Bob worries about me too.
Rick worries about me.
One draft Phil, thinks he worries about me, sometimes.
And Alton worries about me as well, but he does it from a respectable distance most of the time.
"So what's the problem if it's all good Steve?" Rick wanted to know.
"Well, the economy is going to get into a recession if everyone were as wise and fortunate as I am."
"None of that stuff is made in America any more Steve."
"I know Andy, but it's the whole global economy that's at risk now. Not just one geographic location, but the entire world's economic health and welfare. I mean, if I tell too many people about this, they would see how right I am, and whole world's economy would collapse like a house of cards. It's a giant responsibility, knowing that you hold the key to the world's economic health inside of your mind."
"Yeah, I understand completely Steve. You're under an incredible amount of pressure."
"You know it Andy. But the great ones thrive under pressure. I guess it's my cross to bear for a couple of weeks. So I bear it willingly for the benefit of all mankind."
"We're proud to know you Steve!"
"So what are you guys doing for Valentine's Day?" I asked.
"Dinner and a movie." Bob replied. "I have cable now."
"Very nice idea Bob."
Andy looked over at me. "Well I've always had cable, and I don't like trees because they litter my yard every autumn. So I'm going to get my wife a beautiful card, some crawfish and we'll enjoy Judge Judy together by the fireplace."
"Different, Andy. Shows originality. I'm sure she'll love it!"
"Doesn't matter Steve. That's what she's getting." He replied with a smile.
I looked over to where One Draft Phil was sitting, only to discover he had evaporated again, leaving only a lone empty draft glass in his spot.
"Where did Phil go?" I asked.
"We don't know. He just vanished again."
Rick stood up from his seat. "Well I have to vanish too. But I'm certainly glad you brought up the Valentine's Day thing Steve. I think I'll go to the store and pick up a gift for my wife."
"That's really sweet of you Rick. She's a lucky lady." I said.
"Well it's sort of a gift for me too." Rick replied.
He turned and was walking toward the door, when he suddenly stopped.
"Hey, do any of you guys remember the name of that bug spray Heather had on last year?"
"No, but I think it was something like Eau De Shoo Fly, or something. They have it at the fragrance counter at Academy I think."
"Great. Thanks!" he smiled and turned toward the door.
The older I get, the more quickly things happen. Well, most things anyway.
I was checking my calendar the other day and I realized the annual St. Valentines Day love fest is fast approaching. Someday I'll look back and discover where January disappeared. Not a bad thing, I hate January. Football is nearly gone for another year.
I have never been a fan of round ball, likely because I can't jump. Or shoot straight. Or run anymore. I have a maximum attention span of about three nanoseconds for watching the NBA.
I actually prefer Valentines Day to watching basketball.
That was when I remembered about the glass being half full this year. So I ventured out to Papa's to find Bob, Andy, Rick and One draft Phil. An island of sanity, in this otherwise, turbulent world we live in.
Much to my dismay, not one of them was there when I arrived. So I did something foolish and started thinking. You shouldn't do things like that when you are by yourself. If you aren't crazy to begin with, you'll quickly end up there.
There are times in my life when I wish I could listen to my own advice. Such as right then, when I started thinking.
I began to think of my old sweetie, and how she would disapprove of my having a good time with my buddies. It's a standard female characteristic from all of the feedback I have received from the other fun loving lunatics in my life. So I put the brakes on those thoughts, narrowly escaping a dreaded act of self-conscience.
Whew!!! That was so close, it frightened me.
But I was still faced with the Valentines Day thing, when the tres loco amigos came in through different doors. Guardian Angels come in strange shapes and sizes these days. But hey, never look a gifted Guardian Angel in the mouth. So I picked up my beer and wandered over to The Square Table, to join the late arrivals.
"What's happening Steve?" Rick asked.
"I was just thinking. I hate thinking. It's a good thing you all came in to save me from myself."
"What, pray tell, were you thinking about?" Bob wanted to know.
"I was thinking about the glass being half full."
"It's not half full Steve. It's completely full."
"It's tough enough to get to the half full point. Don't go getting too optimistic on me."
Bob looked at me, dumbfounded. "I just got here. I haven't even taken a sip yet. It's completely full." He shook his head and took a sip.
"I meant, attitude Bob. The glass is half full this year. Remember?"
"OHHHH! Now I'm with you. So enlighten us."
"Well, I was at the store and they have all kinds of Valentines Day stuff, all over the place. And that got me thinking about my sweetie, who is not my sweetie any longer. Jeez, it's almost Valentine's Day, and I have no one special in my life. I mean, I'm not even a lousy Insignificant Other any more."
"Man, that sounds depressing Steve. "
"That's what I thought too, Rick. But then I realized, I don't have to buy anything for anyone this year. Not even a card! It's a good thing. Think of all of the money I'm saving!"
"Now that's the attitude Steve. See the glass is on it's way to being half full, already." Said One Draft Phil.
"Yeah, you're right Phil. And furthermore it's good for the entire eco system as well, which is a good thing for the global warming problem."
That was the very first time I have ever heard complete silence from the three of them when they have been together. They all looked at me and shook their heads in united disbelief.
"I'm serious guys. Look no trees are going to be murdered because I needed to get a ridiculous card which, will end up in the trash and then on to land fill. And not one flower on the planet is in life threatening danger because of my selfish, lustful ways. No cows are going to be stripped of their milk to make stupid chocolates for some woman who'll end up breaking my heart anyway. And not a single steer will be led to slaughter in order that I provide a fine steak dinner for her either. And it saves the latex supply as well. So, it's all good!"
Andy worries about me.
Bob worries about me too.
Rick worries about me.
One draft Phil, thinks he worries about me, sometimes.
And Alton worries about me as well, but he does it from a respectable distance most of the time.
"So what's the problem if it's all good Steve?" Rick wanted to know.
"Well, the economy is going to get into a recession if everyone were as wise and fortunate as I am."
"None of that stuff is made in America any more Steve."
"I know Andy, but it's the whole global economy that's at risk now. Not just one geographic location, but the entire world's economic health and welfare. I mean, if I tell too many people about this, they would see how right I am, and whole world's economy would collapse like a house of cards. It's a giant responsibility, knowing that you hold the key to the world's economic health inside of your mind."
"Yeah, I understand completely Steve. You're under an incredible amount of pressure."
"You know it Andy. But the great ones thrive under pressure. I guess it's my cross to bear for a couple of weeks. So I bear it willingly for the benefit of all mankind."
"We're proud to know you Steve!"
"So what are you guys doing for Valentine's Day?" I asked.
"Dinner and a movie." Bob replied. "I have cable now."
"Very nice idea Bob."
Andy looked over at me. "Well I've always had cable, and I don't like trees because they litter my yard every autumn. So I'm going to get my wife a beautiful card, some crawfish and we'll enjoy Judge Judy together by the fireplace."
"Different, Andy. Shows originality. I'm sure she'll love it!"
"Doesn't matter Steve. That's what she's getting." He replied with a smile.
I looked over to where One Draft Phil was sitting, only to discover he had evaporated again, leaving only a lone empty draft glass in his spot.
"Where did Phil go?" I asked.
"We don't know. He just vanished again."
Rick stood up from his seat. "Well I have to vanish too. But I'm certainly glad you brought up the Valentine's Day thing Steve. I think I'll go to the store and pick up a gift for my wife."
"That's really sweet of you Rick. She's a lucky lady." I said.
"Well it's sort of a gift for me too." Rick replied.
He turned and was walking toward the door, when he suddenly stopped.
"Hey, do any of you guys remember the name of that bug spray Heather had on last year?"
"No, but I think it was something like Eau De Shoo Fly, or something. They have it at the fragrance counter at Academy I think."
"Great. Thanks!" he smiled and turned toward the door.
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