Thursday, September 14, 2017


  • I'm 69 years old and I still haven't run for the Presidency. I don't really want the job, which is why I would probably be pretty good at it. I wouldn't put up with any shit. If someone said let's go to war, I'd fire them. If someone said let's give the rich a tax break, I'd fire them. This would help the unemployment, cause I would then hire people with brains. Anyone mentioning doing away or cutting social security and medicare would be eligible for life in prison. Social programs for struggling people would be in, welfare for the corporate farmers and rich CEO's would be out. I would declare universal health-care a human right, and I wouldn't mess around with Congress, who are bought by the health-care industry. It would be a Presidential mandate. I probably wouldn't be very electable, but man, would I have fun debating these morons.
  • I'm 69, but I don't feel that old. I feel about 25. Well, in the morning I feel a little older, but once I'm up, find my pants and a shirt and some shoes, have a cup of coffee, play golf, take a nap, and eat dinner, I figure someone made a mistake on my birth certificate. Long about 8pm, I head to bed. I take my meds and figure I'm probably 69 after all. They say it's all in the mind. Yea. you bet.
  • Sixty-nine isn't all that old anymore. They say it's the new middle age. "They", of course, don't know what the hell they are talking about. "They" ain't ever been 69. The average age for males to survive is now 75. That's only six more years. I think I'm going to go back to church. I need to start cramming for finals.
  • When I think back over 69 years, it seems to have passed so quickly. I remember my first day of school. My buddy was suppose to stop by and take me, but he forgot. That first kiss, which I ain't going to say much about, cause it wasn't my wife. All the baseball and basketball memories. College, seminary, graduate school. Forty-five years of marriage, two kids, ten dogs, and four different homes. It's all still up there, in my mind. Fortunately, I can still remember all of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly. It's all right there. All-in-all, I can't complain. It's been a good life. And I'm hoping to beat that 75. I still got a lot of things to do, like learning how to speak "Mexican"  (Bush Jr.) and figuring out what the hell a square root is. In the end, I'm only hoping for one thing: that people can say "He was a good man." That will do.

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