Sunday Morning
Lessons
— Bumper
sticker of the week: Someone less dumb for President.
— Quotes of
the week: ÒThink how stupid the average person is, and realize that half of
them are stupider than that.Ó
ÒWhen
cheese gets its picture taken, what does it say?Ó George Carlin
— An old
age question you need to ask yourself: Are you living longer or dying longer?
— Embattled
Philippines President Arroyo sets up Òtruth commissionÓ: I like that, a Òtruth
commission.Ó The truth commission is to look into possible voter fraud
concerning her election. ThatÕs a good one. This sounds like something Bush
would do.
—
Ex-offenders and voting: Laws keeping ex-offenders from voting are a disgrace
to our democracy. It is wrong to keep someone who is actively working to
rehabilitate themselves from participating in elections. These type of laws
offend the basic principles of a democracy and diminish us as a people.
— Ways to
trick your brain:
¥ First, you need
to make sure you have one. Count backward from 100 by 7. If youÕre from East
Galesburg, you can start from 7.
¥ Vote
Republican. That will definitely trick your brain. In fact, you may not even
need one.
¥ Your brain has
a left side and a right side. You can tell which side is dominant by the way
you vote. Obama — left. Keyes — right.
¥ Go to Oquawka
and all the while tell yourself its Cancun. This will either trick your brain
or youÕll be arrested for impersonating a river rat.
¥ Tell yourself
you can do anything, than jump off a ten story building. This may trick more
than just your brain.
¥ Look in a
mirror and pretend you see someone who really has their act together. This is
real tricky.
¥ Now, give your
brain a rest. Stop thinking altogether. There, now youÕre back to normal.
— Dying is
not all its cracked up to be: ItÕs already been five years since I almost bit
the bullet, passed on, crossed over, croaked, bought the farm, kicked the
bucket. We joke about it, until it stares us in the face. Death, that is. Then
itÕs not so funny. You come face to face with being here one minute, gone the
next. I sometimes wonder how things would have been had I died. You come to a
painful realization that things would have gone on. The most you can muster up
is, you hope you would be remembered. Your only shot at immortality —
being remembered. But for what?
— My quest
for gold: The alchemistsÕ quest was to turn base metals, i.e. lead, into gold.
In a slightly altered, somewhat perverse, modern variation, my quest is to turn
dog poop into gold. IÕd settle for silver. Owning three dogs, I have plenty of
material to work with. About as good as IÕve done so far is getting the trash
man to cuss when I put the poop out with my other trash. When he squishes it
all together, I can hear him cussing two blocks down the street. Come to think
of it, I guess that is kind of a golden moment.
— Sunday
morning: I can remember one particular Sunday morning as vividly as I can
remember yesterday. I was 12. After Sunday School, my father would take me to
the tavern. In a German community, this was basically a right of passage. I
learned how to play pool and the pinball machine. This particular Sunday
morning, I learned a lesson about life I never forgot. A black man, I would
guess around 60, stopped by the tavern for a six pack on his way to a nearby
creek, IÕm guessing, to fish. The other guys at the bar, all friends of my
father, encouraged the bartender to send him on his way without any beer. My
father walked over to the cooler, got out a six pack, handed it to the
gentleman, who proceeded to walk out. IÕm not sure that they exchanged any
words. And no one in the bar said a word, one way or the other. What strikes me
most about the incident, then and now, was the silence. No one saying a word,
including my father. Ever. I was to make of it what I would.