Looking To 2024 With Fear and Trepidation

 Good riddance, 2023. To paraphrase "True Grit", "the love of decency does not abide in you".

The problem is, I said the same thing at the end of 2022.

That being the case, I no longer make noises about the next year being better than the last one. 2023 started out with losing a nephew, paused in the middle for the death of our dog, and ended with my wife and I both down with Covid. Those are just the highlights. We also had to replace our car, and oh, yeah--our microwave caught fire. Again. (It was just smoke.)

Then there was the sinus surgery which, it turns out, doesn't prevent Covid. Emily had to face the death of one of the horses she worked with. We didn't get a new book out in 2023, and had to push back the deadline on the one we're working on. Oh, and I had a biopsy on my TONGUE.

 

Surgery or virus? You decide.
 

Could 2024 be worse than that?

Yes. Yes, it could. I mean, it's an election year, so there's that all by itself.

This year a third of the people are going to pick a candidate to fight a different third of the people who the first third hate, and the second third is going to pick someone who they hope will be horrible to the first third, while the middle third do their best to ignore all of this, even though they're the ones who'll suffer the most.

It's politics as written by Joseph Heller. We'll call it "Catch 24".

(Hey, I just had an idea for a new novel!)

There's not much we can do about a lot of this, including the elections, once the graveyard votes are counted. So what are we to do about the world's current state of affairs?

Laugh.

That's right, you heard me. Laugh, even if it scares people.

Now, that's scary.

 I'm going to make an extra effort in 2024 to make people laugh. I'm not going to guarantee health, or that my appliances will keep working, or that Congress will start acting responsibly. (See, that last made me giggle right there.) I'm fairly certain at this point that the Presidential election will be a farce regardless of who wins, so why not poke fun at it, too? Maybe, with luck, in the coming year I'll have another exploding lawn mower to talk about.

Okay, I don't want to go that far. Again.

But laughter often is the best medicine, at least for your brain, and I'm going to work on turning it into an epidemic. The laughter, I mean. Because we can't change a lot of bad things with the exception of politics, so we might as well feel better about them.

Maybe we'll even sell more copies of our humor books.

Okay, let's not expect too much. After all, it's still the 2020s.

 





     

    Remember, it takes fewer muscles to smile than to frown, and we're all tired.

     


    Posted by 1 comment:
    Labels: , , , , , , , , ,

    How I Saved Christmas, Kind Of

     

    In the dollar store

    I don’t make this stuff up—

    I ran into the Grinch,

    And his reindeer, the pup.

     

    “What brings you to town?” I asked, to be nice.

    “The last time I heard you suffered the vice

    Of hating all Christmas, the presents and lights;

    Yet you stand in the isle of Yuletide delights.”

     

    It’s true: We were right in the holiday lane,

    The same place I cursed when Halloween came.

    There were pine trees by pumpkins, costumes with wreaths.

    You could get pumpkin spice with mint or with wraiths.

     

    (See what I did, there?)

     

    “I’ve joined the club”, he told me with a sneer.

    “I’m going full out on Christmas this year.

    I’m buying up lights and tinsel and stuff;

    Don’t know what this is, but I can’t get enough.”

     

    The thing he held up was a Thanksgiving display,

    On clearance from last month, but I didn’t say.

    “But I don’t understand,” I told the green guy.

    “I thought you hate Christmas, and want it to die.”

     

    “Oh, I do,” said the Grinch, with a Darth Vader like laugh.

    (I don’t think Vader chortled, so that may be a gaff.)

    “I’m joining the club; I’m going all in.

    The result is a club they won’t want to be in!

     

    “I’m putting up stockings, a tree in each room,

    Outside speakers from which carols will boom.

    Gaudy garland to drape all over my cave,

    And starting that evening: all night holiday rave.

     


    “I’ll not have tree skirts—oh no, tree gowns!

    My garland will go wrapping around and around

    Not just my home but the whole doggone mountain—

    And a red, green, and yellow spice flavored fountain.

     

    “Candles and pillows and shelves of snow globes,

    Warm but so gaudy sweaters and robes,

    Pillows and rugs and a gingerbread house—

    And my wife will be decorated … if I find me a spouse.

     

    “Decoration limits? We won’t have any lid.

    My holiday lights will take down the whole grid!

    I’ll blind passing planes, then I’ll darken the state.

    And then I’ll light candles and start a clean slate.

     

    “And, oh yes, I’ll put my own name up in a blaze,

    In rich Christmas colors, to cut through the haze

    So all the Who’s down in Whoville, that dump

    Will know it is I who gave Christmas a bump.”

     

    I have to admit, I was a bit mystified.

    When it comes to the Grinch—well, this wasn’t the side

    You think of when picturing this big green guy.

    (Sure, he’s no Hulk, but still.)

    So with great trepidation, I had to ask: “Why?”

     

    “Why? You want to know why?”

    (He sounded very much like Jack Nicholson at that point.)

    “I’ll tell you why.

     

    “My plan can’t be stopped, so I’ll tell you the reason:

    By the time I’m done you’ll be sick of this season.

    Everyone will hate Christmas: The music will grate,

    The spice cinnamon stuff will make them hesitate

     

    “To go out and carol, even if it's fat free!

    Or at least that’s how I’d feel, if caroling me.

    And when it’s all done, they’ll feel the same way

    As they feel about me—the Grinch—every day.”

     

    I have to admit, he’d made a good plan.

    Immersion attack from a Christmas hit man.

    And it would have worked too, except he didn’t see

    It had already been done, with consumerist glee.

     

     

    I began to explain, but we’d hit the checkout,

    And I realized what he was about to find out.

    The clerk rang it up, a green sounding ring,

    The numbers kept rising with every new bling.

     

    The Grinch stumbled back, his hand to his head.

    “With that bill the reindeer dog won’t get fed,

    The heat will go off, hot chocolate won’t trickle—

    I’ll end up a homeless, frozen Grinch-cicle!”

     

    And he left his load there: every last light and trinket.

    “If I knew of the cost I never would think it!

    I’m going old school, next year I’ll lay low

    And steal all the stuff from the Who’s down below.”

     

    It’s an odd way to save Christmas, I think you’ll agree.

    But that’s just how it happened … take it from me.

     

     

     

    Remember, every time you buy a book the Grinch's small library grows three times.

     

    Posted by 3 comments:
    Labels: , , , , ,
    Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)