Today’s Tirade: Live for the Moment

Blah-Mag-April-2017

Hurray, Baseball Season is Back!

Nothing is better for one’s well-being than a good rant now and then to relieve pent-up frustration, triggering a pressure-relief valve which sounds like the whistle of an old steam locomotive, or that of an iron kettle filled with boiling water from sitting on a stove’s flaming burner.

Procrastination, an oft-mentioned theme in this journal, took the best from me this week, when I dillydallied about doing the confounded food-shopping. What happened to the solution for my habitual dread of visiting the supermarket? I procrastinated again.

Tuesday was the day for my originally planned foray, but was put off until Friday when the only thing left to eat in the refrigerator was Stone Fruit, remember him?

“You’ve got to be kidding. Over three years living in your fridge?” you might be saying.

Yup, although the fruit is more like in suspended animation. He looks good in there, don’t you agree? His new best friend is a package of Nathan’s hot dogs, purchased earlier, which is one shy of a full pack already.

Stone-Fruit-2017

Stone Fruit

Only now, the once-thriving grapefruit has desiccated to the point of being harder than a croquet ball.

The orb would probably shatter if struck with a mallet.

No way would it now be sustenance to birds or other critters.

His weight is a fraction of what it was at the time of the last entry about him.

Tapping on the exterior of this curious science project reveals a hollow core, yet Stone is as handsome as ever.

I put him up front instead of his residing in the rear of the Frigidaire, lonely and forgotten; but my willingness to toss him to the beasts, or throw him away into the dumpster is far less now than ever, for his existence and longevity inspires me.

The trip to the supermarket was quite uneventful to rate inclusion in a proper diatribe. Even the weekly rags were mostly blasé. I was happy not to see Trump’s ugly mug on a magazine cover for once, but there was Alec Baldwin who can be just as bad.

One thing striking was it’s already one year since Prince left us. It seems like it was only yesterday.

food-shopping

Rags for the Week of April 16, 2017

Now for the tirade:

One of my pet peeves is the phrase, “Rest in Peace,” spoken by mostly everyone when paying their respects to somebody who has passed on, for lack of a better euphemism about death.

How else will a dead person rest, if that can be considered resting? Never have I heard of someone resting in shambles or chaos after dying; but then again, who knows what goes on once life crosses over the River Styx?

When I surf the news sites on the Internet, why must every article include a video that slows up my browser, even causes it to crash when I have too many tabs open? Why do they then even bother to include text, rehashing what was mentioned in the clip? Seems like a waste of resources and a total redundancy.

I make it a point to park my vehicle almost exactly in the middle of the space provided, leaving enough room on either side to open the door and get in or out without having to squeeze through, providing the car next to me does the same; but no.

Everyone mostly ends up parking with their wheels skimming the lines that separate each parking space, eliminating that buffer. Worse yet, they end up dinging my paint job with their doors as they get out, which make me wonder: why do I even bother to make sure I don’t ding the cars next to me when I exit my vehicle? They don’t.

It’s like the imbecilic driver aims for my car as they are pulling in, thinking it’s so small and needs less space.

Facebook annoys the hell out of me with their notifications of what I’ve been missing since last logging on. One can’t stay away for more than 20 hours, it seems, before they start sending you e-mails to come back. I’ll log in again when I’m good and ready, by golly.

Getting back to news sites and Social Media, I find their vernacular consists nowadays of what we need to know with regards to a certain subject. Everything is about what we “need to know.” Let me be the judge of that. Offer the information, but don’t tell me I need to know it. When I see that now on a tweet or headline, I’ll say, “No I don’t,” and move on.

Another complaint is all subject matter on the Internet comes in top-ten lists. Please, my attention span lasts for only how long it takes to read the main reason for an anomaly. The rest is a waste of time.

You’re probably saying my tirades are sort of a list of things, so why make a fuss about it?  Someone commented one time that I’m always complaining about something which nothing can be done about.

Correctomundo; so with that, I’ll leave you with my latest cover, a tune that I’ve dedicated to my dad, who is dearly departed for ten years in May. My goodness how time flies, a good reason to live for the moment before nothing is left.

Thanks for stopping in and for your continued support.  Now excuse me while I raid the refrigerator, stocked up for another few weeks, to happily pig out.

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About Mike Slickster

As an early retiree with an honorary doctorate degree from the proverbial "School of Hard Knocks," this upcoming author with a lot of free time on his hands utilizes his expansive repertoire for humorous yet tragic, wildly creative writing that contains years of imaginative fantasy, pure nonsense, classic slapstick, extreme happiness and searing heartbreak; gathered by a wealth of personal experiences throughout his thrilling—sometimes mundane or unusually horrid—free-spirited, rock-'n'-roller-coaster ride around our beloved Planet Earth. Mike Slickster's illustrious quest continues, living now in Act Three of his present incarnation, quite a bit on the cutting edge of profundity and philosophical merriment as seen through his colorful characters, most notably evident in the amusing Thirty Days Across the Big Pond series, all of which can be found at Lulu.com.
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