Wednesday, August 29, 2018
I hear all this talk about socialism. One has to ask how they define it and where they get their idea behind it. Because if that word is used at all, it is usually misused and taken the wrong way. If all we have to work with are two paradigms, so to speak, then how is it possible to move forward when the only thing(s) you hear are the same things over and over again... the same rhetoric for the last 60 years. I know folks who work 8-12 hours a day and are broke most of the time with no insurance and very little rest. And the only thing heard is you gotta pick yourself up, get two jobs horseshit. I guess the timing isn't going to be right until we get some innovative and idealistic people running the government instead of the corporate world, oil, and war in its constancy.
Mitch asked a gal working the front desk at a hospital to write something on a piece of paper so he could tell her about herself. She was in her late 20's to mid thirties. She giggled like a voodoo priestess and said, "What are you, a carnie?" He said, "No, I just want to try something on you because I can tell you have a lot of spontaneousness basking within that restless soul of yours and that is interesting to me. She smiled and grabbed a sheet from the printer. She used a red pen and signed her name. He said, "You write curfus really well and your signature is unique. I just want you to write three or four sentences in curfus about anything, your last day off... what did you do with your day?" Her handwriting was rather sloppy. No extra flair as is commonly found in letters like G and T and W. No flair. So Mitch starred at the writing trying to put everything together. The phone rang and she went to the other side to answer it. She walked over with a shit eating grin and said, "Well, whatcha got smartboy from downtown?" You are 5'6, the little sister in a family of four... two boys and two girls. The oldest is your sister. You started dating in college because you had self image issues. The brother right above you is an asshole but your other brother is very cool and you are close. You trust him. You never got along with other girls and were very much a tomboy growing up. You are still shy around people, but tell yourself you are getting better. You have never been married, but you had a baby boy at the age of 18 and he is everything to you. Currently, you have more money coming in than ever before because you are working full time and your new boyfriend has a great job that he's had for years. You gamble too much and are not really satisfied with your sex life. You have had opportunities to cheat, but haven't. You are sometimes too passive and have let people take advantage of you. She said, "Wait, just fucking wait a minute here!" I don't understand. You're not even close. I have one brother and one sister. I interrupted with, " What do you know about the year 1998?" "Talk to your mother." The phone rang and she slowly walked over with her head sort of wobbling. Mitch could tell she was shaken up. Slowly she walked back starring at me the whole time as if she was thinking really super hard. She came back and looked him in the eye and asked, "Do you know my mother?" He said, "Yes, talk with your mother later because it's time." Mitch then walked, went outside, got in his car and drove away as she watched from the front window. She could not wait until 8 o clock so she could drive to her mother's house and do some probing. Time finally came and off she went a few miles west. She arrived at her moms house and holy shit there was Mitch. Wigged out and ready for a drink, she walked over to her mother and gave her a hug as Mitch watched smiling. Looking directly at Mitch, she said, "Mother, who in hell is this man right here?" Her mother said, "That is your sister." She is the oldest of you kids. Looking at Mitch with rage in her eyes, "What is your name?" "Mitch." "No, what was it when you were born?" "Mitch." She yelled, "Dammit, what does all this shit mean?" "I am fucking confused here and if I don't get some help, you people are going to need medical assistance." Mitch stepped in and calmly asked her,"What's your name?" She said, "Dave."
With every tear that is produced, the time it takes to express the meaning behind that tear becomes less and less. It is automatic and yet meaningful because it is always done in a way in which that one tear is representative of a human design, a human way, a human dignity. It is as individual as color-choice and it is as innovative as a new invention.
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