Thingy

  There wasn't much family time in the Thingy household except for Sunday evenings. I hated Sundays with a passion because it preceded Monday - school. I also hated it because Dad liked to hog the TV and watch Ed Sullivan. Sometimes I didn't mind, especially when the Beatles performed. It was only sullied by Dad's constant haranguing that they looked like thugs. He abhorred them. My mother and sisters loved them. Mom was a lifetime fan.  One singer Dad fawned over was Tom Jones. He frickin loved Tom. His voice was magnificent, Dad would say as Tom twerked onstage. He was a real manly man. Tom Jones creeped me out. He used to wear suits with his shirt unbuttoned to his navel and wore gold chains on his disgusting hairy chest. The Beatles were beautiful. They sang about love and hard day nights.  I hear Tom is a nice guy and this isn't really about him except for a song he sang. Delilah. It's not a song I thought about until today when I saw a blurb regarding Metallic...

 WARNING! FOUL LANGUAGE USED!!! Jesus wept, another fucking creep. Why can't y'all keep your damn prick in your pants and why y'all can't you fucking stay away from married men? I just finished reading about Phil Mickelson and his roaming hands and other bits. The strange part is his wife's reaction to his constant cheating. She just narrows his playing field by getting him banned from golf courses. I guess he can only play golf in his back yard now. She appears to be still married to the piece of shit for whatever reason I can't think of.  As Judge Boyd always say, "Here's the thing," stop making vows you won't keep. Stop treating the supposed people you love, like dirt. You have zero excuse for being an asshole. ZERO! Just don't get married. Screw around with as many people as you wish. Wear a condom. Use protection. Stop fucking around with people who have a partner and or children. You're a hoor. All that for thirty minutes of feeli...

  It has been a very long time since my daughter and I visited the Renaissance Faire held outside of town during  the Summer months. We used to go every year when she was young and we got to know the regulars who really got into character. We never dressed up and pretended we were back there, in Tudor times. Who we kidding? I read and I know things. First, our Faire always smelled lovely, with incense and Dior Sauvage wafting through the grounds. I cannot recall ever using the bathrooms there, but I'm assuming the burgesses did not piss in buckets. There was jousting with handsome knights and no blood was shed. Roasted turkey legs were damn fine eating, then and now.  But, truly, there was nothing romantic about the Elizabethan era, although it certainly had a glow up from the Dark Ages where just going outside could kill you. There really is no way to replicate that past faithfully because it sucked. I will also never quite understand the interest in Civil War reenactmen...

 So which one is it? This is why I no longer trust the government, the media or even social media where the truth is supposed to mean something. Frankly, I don't fucking believe in anyone anymore. 

  Jobs that no longer exist . Gee, I bet people bitched about those new fangled machines taking over and what are humans supposed to do!? I dunno. I do remember we had a milkman who would exchange empties and put the filled ones in a metal box we kept on the back porch. We also had the ragman come along and sell Mom stuff like pots, detergent and rags. He was our very own Mr. Haney like from the tv show, 'Green Acres.' Then there was the tv repairman who was missing a few fingers. He always glared at me because I liked to watch him change the giant tubes in the back of the television. Back in the day, we never pumped our own gas. Listen. Hear that bell? The car would roll over a hose which ding dinged and out came a man in a uniform that pumped gas, checked the oil and washed the windows. In school the Sisters of No Mercy had us go over to the convent and wash their dishes.  Things change.  There is one job I noticed that is still around and I had to ask Google why. It's ...

 I started reading a book last night and didn't put it down until I was done. I'm sort of in a stage where nothing has kept my interest, such as, 'Heart of Darkness,' by Joseph Conrad. I read five pages and have moved on. The book is more of a novella but I'm guessing it will take me three years to read. So I picked up, 'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time .' I do love a great title. I bought Dave Eggers book, 'The Heartbreaking Tale of a Staggering Genius,' simply due to the title. I was not disappointed.  But, I digress... The curious incident does indeed involve a dog. What is rather unusual about the story is that it is told by the main character, fifteen year old, Christopher Boone, who is unusual. The author of the book, Mark Haddon, refuses to use the term, autistic, but that's what he is (and do not ever again use the term, Asperger's*) Haddon claims he did no research regarding Christopher's peculiarities. He just d...