‘How to be Your True Self’. ‘We Need to Talk About…’. ‘You Need to Stop…’. ‘Finding Yourself’. ‘Three Habits of…’. ‘How to be Your Best Self’. And on and on and on.
Have you had enough of those things yet? Fingers pointing out your flaws, flaws you didn’t necessarily know you had, and how to fix them? Memes telling you how to think, dress, act, eat, drink and sleep for success?
More importantly, do you READ these things?
Are you a racist? If you answered ‘yes’, then you know that you are, and if you’re over the age of about…
Yes, how boring. A stack of hay. Some chickens. Basic Barn. Take a good look at that stack of hay. Notice how precarious the stack job. Doesn’t take much to pull down a row for feeding; I take one of those long 2X4’s, give the row a gentle prod, and down it comes, scattering chickens and cat in the resulting implosion.
So, you would think the proper person for the job of climbing up the stack to scout for eggs — the proverbial Easter egg hunt that occurs daily around here — would be an 8 year old kid.
“I don’t care what the newspapers say about me, as long as they spell my name right”
Truer words were never (probably, maybe) spoken. We all know that it obviously revels in its (Americanized) last name — just look at the size of the letters on every bloody building it (and the banks, Chinese, Russians, et al) owns. This is the same thing that plastered fake Time magazine covers all over the place with its picture on it.
So, and I’m just as guilty as everyone else, we just keep feeding the animal. And now, there’s other animals that have…
January 6th was the day that all hell broke loose once again. Only this time, with a serious hard on, and video feeds that have toppled not enough anti-Americans. Yet.
Not even 6 decades on this earth could have prepared me for the spectacle and the emotions that followed the first few minutes of disbelief and anger. Consider that those maggot morons absolutely felt they were on the right side of history. No, really — put yourself in their shoes (then burn your feet, because, ewwwww) and see how you feel. You’ve been fed a diet of Flavor Aid lies…
So, yesterday was different. Not in the ‘goodness, wasn’t that interesting?’ kind of way, but in the ‘holy CRAP, how did these idiots make it to adulthood?’ kind of way.
A coup? Please. These ‘gravy seals’ and ‘cosplay commandos’ couldn’t have commandeered the SS Minnow over Gilligan’s objections. After it had washed ashore on that desert isle. But, what was up with the so called Capitol Police, politely moving barricades aside and taking jolly selfies with these ding dongs? Did they drink the Flavor Aid also?
Oh. Right. Pardon me. Fat, angry, white gullible guys and gals with guns. …
She had a good 15th birthday on the 11th of December. Cake, cows and comfy naps. It was obvious that the light was starting to dim, and had been for a few weeks now. As we exited the pasture, the new kid was there at the gate, waiting.
The passing of the torch has begun.
Look, I get it. You’re a city kid, and you grew up with one of your parents reading a book to you, in which they pointed a finger excitedly towards a random picture of a black and white thing, and commenced to making a bizarre sound, whilst directing your attention repeatedly to the picture and making those noises, a demented look on their faces.
A demented look on THEIR faces? You’re the one drooling and trying to shove the book in your mouth, along with a foot and a finger that doesn’t belong to you. Go on then. …
Back in the early 2000’s, there was a ‘new’ social media platform called MySpace. I was working with a friend on a post she was trying to upload, when I read the post. “Hey, wait — this isn’t true. You can’t put that out there!” I said. “Why not? The only people who know it isn’t true likely won’t even see it. Who cares? It makes a better story than the truth!” she said.
And that right there was one of the reasons I don’t have either a Facebook or Twitter account.
People constantly blame social media for all the…
Anyone hung over today? Nope, I’m a cheap drunk, and because of that, hangovers aren’t a problem. Plus, I was busy making lists. I do make a lot of lists, because I can’t remember a damn thing 3/10th of a second after thinking about it. I’ve wrote some pretty dang good posts in my head on the tractor, and left them all out in the pasture.
In between rain showers and wind, the sun shone with a joy long absent. It was a fine day to get out and do stuff, which we always do anyway. But it was particularly fine to do that stuff today.
I figure that a whole lot of people feel the same way, like a weight has been lifted off of them. But, we still have roadblocks and hurdles and tweets to weather, folks, so celebrate now, for tomorrow, you’ll be back fighting again.
Hippie cattle rancher and dog lover. Independent but slightly left of centre. Atheist ethnic Jew. US Navy vet. Damp Oregonian. IG @morganriverranch