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Just one man's view, of what was, is now, and makes him cry. [1]
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Date: 2025-06-23
You say, “write a story”. Last few times I did that, I was criticized for not choosing an appropriate title — even accused of doing it deliberately “click bait”. So I’m sort of grim. That’s why I’m here. I’m the small voice of the old (not that old, really) guy from the small-ish town who saw life change so fast and so far I don’t recognize it. And of course, everyone tells me that’s my fault.
So here’s what I wrote in response to a Facebook comment recently. When I got done writing, it seemed to be a more refined, better condensed version of the same screed that the old man yelling at the cloud tells everyone. Just updating, really.
Hey, my wife (we’re estranged, but I won’t divorce her until she can retire, which for her is two more years, just shy of 67) — she’s “Ultra MAGA” — just as she is about to draw Social Security that the republicans want to cut (ponzi scheme, don’cha know) — and I’ve been on disability after a couple of brain surgeries. They say they could maybe make it better with another one; then again the surgeon says I may die on the table, and can I live with what I have?
What I have makes me largely unemployable, even at 57. So although I look like I ought to have a job, i’m that guy everyone hates; “Why don’t you have a job?” says everyone; “Well, we surely do not want you if you have those kinds of issues” say the employers. Did the voc rehab thing fifteen years ago. I am the red-headed stepchild. They found me a job, I worked for years, the brain damage got worse (maybe from the job, it’s complicated) and I gave up so I don’t succumb to depression. A measly disability check in a house that’s paid for is enough for me; at least I don't’ struggle with self-doubt and social discord if I just stay home and feed squirrels and birds.
I often say “squirds and birrels” — — that kind of brain damage. It’s subtle. But when Amazon pays you $17 an hour to move a box, you have to move the right box to the right place, or your accuracy goes down (they fire you for that) and you have to do it in a timely fashion (they fire you for that) and your rate goes up all the time — — they fire you for not keeping up. As my skill set goes down, in a dog-eat-dog world, I’m the dog that gets left behind to die. That’s why humans think we’re so much better than the “lesser” species… we don’t eat our young, or abandon our elderly — — right?
Oh, sorry. You see what I did there, of course.
So every now and then I pop in, write a bit. and go back to my world. My nieghbors fire AR rifles from a house that’s only 300 feet away — that’s legal in my state, even when I’m only two miles from the center of town; and according to the police, until he shoots me, he’s not breaking any laws. Although some simple algebra says his bullet can come through my kitchen window and go out the other side of my skull with my brain on it in about 0.532 seconds, if he just aims my way. But until he does, he’s just a “LAGO” with a confederate flag flying in a house which lies 200 miles North of the Mason-Dixon line… and nobody gets the joke.
And so it goes.
Honestly, if you saw the transformation in my wife in the last ten years, I”m a case study in why we’re all going to go through hell very soon. She said she hated politics — and she’s now “Ultra Maga” — voting against the interests (and only chance, I might add) of both herself, and her lame husband.
He — -he’s the guy who, when he says what he really feels, they threaten to lock him up because he sounds really dangerous when he goes on a rant (that’s me, if you got confused) — — meanwhile I’ve got to be the only person in the entire state of Pennsylvania who doesn’t own a gun.
But using words that rhyme with “other trucker” in anger make me the dangerous one, right?
That’s what got me booted from here back around 2011; my lack of decorum. I’ve mellowed somewhat, only from old(er) age, and I’m resigned to my fates, so being involved in politics for me is rather pointless. Lot of bark, no bite — — but (anyone seen Kristy Noem, lately) I’ll get put down all the same.
This is a real guy — me — I’m not being hyperbolic, this is who i am. Too scared to use my real name, because I think my neighbors really do want to win that next civil war, and because I am quite convinced they do want to start it tomorrow. Always tomorrow.
So far.
That’s my story for today. Nothing to see here, but you did say, verbatim “write a story”.
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