nOn-cOmmOn sEnsE

I went to the grocery store today.
They did not have any strawberries.
Or cherries.
Or green bananas.
Or fresh oranges.
I immediately thought,
figures, considering.
I tried looking for other items,
all unavailable because,
hell if I know!
I left because it was too exhausting.
And depressing.
And I think I heard a girl fart when
I passed her on aisle 1,
near the dressings and croutons. 
It reminded me of a valid truth
that I've always held close to my heart:

In a zombie apocalypse - the hippies are the 
first to go. 

As I walked to my truck,
an epiphany washed over me,
like cold raindrops hitting the back of your neck. 
My glasses fogged up with each breath as
I held in a level nine cough
on the Covid Richter scale.
I hopped into my truck and
squirted hand sanitizer into my hands
and set them on fire
because I have three thousand
dry cracks in the corners of
each one of my fingers.
I coughed like my COPD had COPD
on top of the COPD that was
my COPD.

The voice said,
they are rewriting our script.
They are training us to project
their soul's mission statement
instead of our own.
We were gaining too much power.
We were freeing our minds too much
for them to be comfortable.
We did not depend on them as much as they 
wanted us to, and, 
quite frankly, 
were disgusted by the mere sight of them,
much less the mention of their names.
They were not getting enough views.
They were not getting enough attention.
They want us to believe that 
it is more fulfilling to
settle and be unsatisfied
than it is to starve and be happy
when all we really want
is to be normal
and whole again.

Sometimes, the only way to be 
productive
is to be 
counter-productive.

I slowly slipped a Xanax into my mouth,
let it dissolve under my tongue,
eased through a fast food drive-thru,
ordered a chocolate milkshake,
(the lady said I was fourteen cents short -
I told her to keep the change -
she glitched after that reply and 
gave me my frost treat anyway),
ran over an opossum on the backroads home,
shrugged,
and forgot about all of it by the 
time I nodded off while watching Inception
on Netflix.
All of the above is how I know they
are winning.

My lack of empathy.
My lack of concern.
My lack of lack. 

"Let's go back to the way things used
to be" is sacrilege now.
We would rather throw a straight jacket
on those minds, 
the brave souls that want to question things, 
instead of covering them
in North Face, J-Crew cashmere, or Patagonia.
Let's not keep those ideas, 
and the people who thought them,
warm.
Let's let them shiver out in the cold, 
alone.
Shame on us!
Any dumb ass can rig an outcome with enough
people and money and power and lies and outlets.
The most original thought I've heard lately
was someone who didn't want to skip their 
evening salad because they wanted to maintain
regular bowel movements the next morning.
Zip ties and duct tape can hold many
things together, yet 
the people in charge of us think that off brand
paper towels will suffice for now.
This is where we are.
This is where we stand.

This is our present.
A present without Lysol spray.

We get put in line at the drop of a gavel,
at the date of their choosing.
They shout a simple "yay" or "nay" and
we label that as democracy.
They get put in line once every four years!
Yeah.
You're right!
I do not mean my next statement.
Sounds fair to me. 

I'll say this, then move on -
certain named people did not want a wall
to be built
at the Southern border of our nation.
Right? 
Or am I wrong?
Okay - next - the loophole -
is there currently a wall,
or some reinforced barrier of sorts,
being patrolled daily,
around the Capitol Building now?
...I'll wait for your response...
...Google it if you need to...
...
What?
You don't say?
Now, lastly,
would you call that hypocrisy 
or
preventive security
or what?

Go ahead, if you want to!
Doggy paddle against the current!

If you are not doing anything wrong,
then there is no reason for you to hide.
Flip that around to today's logic:
if the guilty is doing something wrong,
they will blame it on someone else 
and 
contradict themselves after they are in office
and hope we, 
the people,
do not catch on,
while leading us to believe them,
while giving us free to the free free, 
in hopes that them bearing gifts makes
things okay in the long run.

My editor once quoted a quote:
"beware of any kingdom or government
that shows up and is bearing gifts!"

Our government is doing a great job at everything
they do or touch or say or propose or promise
or give or try to change every four years.
I did not mean my last statement.
Yet, I wonder - 
do they realize how irrelevant they truly are?

John Cena would be the best president in the world.
Why?
Because you cannot see him.

Most of the people that fill our Senate and House seats,
in America,
(because, you know, every other government in the world is
perfect,)
and other people that fill state and local seats
of government, 
most of those people would lynch Jesus Christ, 
again, 
exhaustingly,
for helping the people - non monitored,
and parade him through the streets on a
cross made out of USDA, organic,
gluten-free wood, 
if they could, 
then blame it on the devil
after a fireworks celebration.

They would slap Ghandi with a wet squirrel and
make sure he went to bed without dinner.

They would throw a freshly used dildo at Mother Theresa
and give her spotty WiFi service when she FaceTimed
her grandchildren.

They would shoot white paint balls at
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and make sure he never
enjoyed another piece of fried chicken or
collard greens ever again.

They would pay people to start death metal mosh pits
at conventions that the deceased Billy Graham
could host, 
if he was still alive, 
and fund those rebels with t-shirts
depicting pentagrams dripping in blood.

Some of these people, we elect, 
would monetarily terrorize their own
occasions just so they could create a scene,
push an agenda,
and get the one thing we so freely give them -
attention.  
These people would break something, 
fuck it up even more, 
break it again, 
cover it in mayonnaise, 
pickle it, 
bake it between a thousand Sumo wrestlers' 
crotches, 
then sprinkle brown sugar crumble on it,
call it a great idea,
label it as dessert,
and force you to pick up a spoon.

Say what you will.
One thing is certain.
I love campfires.

I like to send myself text messages of
links to videos or memes because
I do not want to lose
or forget them.
Are you ready for my paradox?
When I send myself a text message,
my present self is sending my future
self a link to something from the past. 
When my future self receives it,
four seconds later,
which is then my present,
the moment I sent it is then my past.
They say the future fights the present,
but what if we could change our past by
convincing the future that it is in the
present and manipulate it accordingly.
Then the text that I would send to myself,
I would have already known I was going to
send it and would be expecting it and
save my time in the process by knowing
the known?

Okay.
Let's move on.

Do we need a Covid vaccine?
I mean - I guess.
Sure seems like we do,
even though there is that one, brave,
loveable asshole out there, 
the flawed hero as writers call him,
who has yet to put a mask on.
He has,
purposefully,
been breathing in everyone's sneezes
since last March.
He touches at least nine hundred handles
wherever he goes, then rubs his
eyeballs and licks the palm of his hands
just to prove the scientists wrong.

And that sonuvabitch,
he wins.

I want to be the winner for once.

To that one brave individual, I say, 
"God Bless America!"

People like him actually make me want to
wave our flag again.
People like him make it worth streaking,
on live television,
at the next big sporting event.
People like him and the service members that 
have lost something or a piece of themselves
while serving our once great nation,
is what makes America great.
Believe that!

Yet, I wonder what's tougher :
a Twinkie or a cockroach?

When we are done with the tenth wave of
Covid shots,
let's work on a vaccine for stupidity.
For not having to pay land taxes.
For having a four year income tax break.
For being able to combine fossil fuels and
natural sources of energy.
Instead of me having to put four - D Energizer
batteries into my car each morning and plug
that bastard in whenever I get to work,
(exaggeration - yes!)
let's find a way to convert trash into energy.
Of course, coming from me, it sounds insane,
so I guess I need to find a pissy, 
twelve year old girl to YouTube it and 
she'll immediately be granted entrance into the 
United Nations.
Or a Ted Talk conference.
We listen,
in awe,
to someone who has not French kissed anyone yet.
Or gotten off.
Do you want to put the future of the world
into the hands of someone 
who has not had a bad one night stand yet?

Not me!

Makes sense, yeah?
Just as long as they do not use a gas powered 
car,
or train,
or plane,
or taxi,
or ATV,
or motorcycle 
or Uber.

The speaker,
at the conference, 
would ask the crowd,
"how did you get here, people?"
I raise my hand and answer,
"I came in a rickshaw."
The speaker replies,
"I bet that person's legs are tired!"
The crowd would laugh.
The speaker, with his or her pop singers
headpiece microphone jeers and
receives his prestigious approval.
I maintain a silent disposition.
I raise my hand again.
The speaker nods.
The crowd quietens.
This is my moment.
"No, I think you misunderstood." 
They look at me, confused.
I continue.
"I came in a rickshaw. I stole one,
found a dark alleyway,
and me and my wife sexed in it before,
this, supposed, deep intellect - 
talking thing, here."
I wave my hand at the auditorium.
Everyone is perplexed by the square root
of infinity.

Lost in translation.

Welcome to life on Earth.

Let's come up with a vaccine for 
not having to pay taxes to drive our personal
vehicles on the fucked up roads in our state.
How about that?
(Yes, I know, go make sense of that
considering, in some states, you are forced
to pay road taxes and other states you do not.)  
The roads in my state are a joke anyway.
Especially the backroads. 
It's like I'm living in Ancient Rome,
being pulled by two, three legged horses,
in a chariot with square tires,
down a cobblestone path,
while standing on two wooden peg legs,
smoking a crack pipe,
(me - not my leg,)
while an ostrich sits on my shoulder,
and it's playing the bagpipes 
while texting his interracial lover on Mars.

You know what?
I like watching Naked and Afraid,
while wearing no clothes,
while eating ice cream and 
cheddar-sour cream chips.
There's more ass on one episode of
Naked and Afraid than there is on every 
donkey farm in the entire galaxy, combined.

They say wearing two masks increases your
chance of not contracting the virus.
You don't say,
you expert you!
I say why stop at two?
Let's make it ten!
You say while wearing them, "I can't breathe!"
I say, "hey, that sounds familiar!"

Have you ever tried pizza bread?

The specialists say they are worried about how
big of a carbon footprint we are leaving behind.
I say,
"worry about not being a narcissistic asshole first,
then go from there. 
Our souls are currently suffering 
from more global warming than this Earth ever will."
   
Now, time to hear my alphabetical hook, 
and I never had to open my mouth.

The world (sometimes our life):
Does it make sense?
No? 
Then it's right!
The "it" is whatever you are encountering,
or questioning,
or trying to comprehend,
or figure out,
at the moment,
that does not seem to add up. 

You say to yourself,
"the things people will believe,"
yet I've always wondered,
why is there a piece of the apple
missing from the Apple logo.
"Take that bite, baby!"
as I type on my MacBook Pro and
scroll on my 
iPhone 6000 I XPDJYWTRB Plus.
 
When I was a childish boy,
life had answers.
When I was a young man,
life had decisions.
Now, as a middle aged in-betweener,
nothing exists but open ended questions,
gray shaded lies,
fence post sitters,
ever changing lines in the sand,
victim card playing babies,
and sense that is non-common and insane.

Wait!
I change my mind.
Everything is out-sane.
 
The only thing systematic about our
current world
is the ignorance that exists
in the various
people who choose
to remain blindfolded
and see things
through clouded lenses,
instead of using their own eyes
and enlightened perception.

"My eyes hurt!"
I bet.
Give that person a Fruit Roll Up
and some Jungle Juice.

"My ears does not like this!"
I bet.
Put a barcode on their forehead and 
send them out the door.
This product is ready for sale.

"This tastes bad!"
Imagine that.
Better sip that Lean, boy!
Stir that Purple Drank.

If you'd quit deep throating the world's lies
and start deep throating some of your
inner soul's truths,
then you might savor the flavor
of what your spoon is carrying to your mouth.
You might start believing in the inevitable and
ask the question that everyone is thinking.

What is a cornish game hen?

I've heard numerous times in the past months,
"work smarter, not harder!"
I'm like,
eh, how about no!
First,
where has that gotten us so far?
Second,
how about if my harder is better,
and more efficient, 
than your smarter, then what?
Do I merely dumb myself down just so we can
all make believe that things will get
better when they will not?
Hmm.
Yeah!
Give that person a quadruple gloved high-five. 
A Medal of Honor.
A Nobel Peace Prize.
A make believe holiday during our calendar year. 
A golden pass to Disney Land. 
A twenty dollar gift card to Amazon.
A handy behind the nearest 7/11,
then,
afterwards, 
a strawberry Slurpee!

I remember putting a cassette into
my personal radio, 
that was as big as an ice chest, 
and waiting for my favorite song
to play over the antennaed air, 
and hitting record and play at the same time 
so I could skip the system and 
illegally record my music,
and now all I have to do is bluetooth it from
my phone to the beanie I got for Christmas, 
a beanie which has dolby digital surround sound
woven into it, 
and listen to my playlist as I walk around.

Out-sane.

I still have CD's in my truck
even though my truck's CD player
burned out like five years ago.

Out-sane.

Certain people,
in my collective rhombus,
used to look forward to me burning
them a personal playlist onto 
a cd.
I am a fossil.
I'm sure other generations feel like
a fossil's fossil.

Out-sane 

I used to have a walk man.
You want to know why they call it a walk man?
Because if you ran or jogged with a walk man,
that sonuvabitch would have started
having a seizure and you could not enjoy
any songs while on your outdoor,
or indoor, 
venture. 
It compares to that of trying to have a
meaningful conversation with someone
and they are going through an area
of spotty cell phone service and their
voice goes in and out.

Insanity or Outsanity?

I'm trying to think :
which one let me down more?
Cassettes or CD's?
When a cassette messed up,
it was like running a hand mixer
through the long hair of a woman
you really disliked.
When a CD got one scratch on it,
it was like listening to
a stuttering two year old
try to force one sentence through
his mouth and you're standing there,
lagging,
patiently, of course,
as they do so.

*my hands take a breath*

My shift lead walked by me yesterday
and asked me,
"hey, do you work here?"
I looked at him, excited.
I replied, "yes!"
He said, "yeah, me neither!"
This explains everything that is not
contained in my circle of certainty.
This explains everything right now in the world.
This is our lives, 
at the moment,
as we speak.

Q - "Are you doing okay?"
A - "Yes!"
Q - "Yeah, me neither."

Are there some people out there, that,
whenever they start talking,
you just want to look at them and
say,
"shut your mouth when you're talking to me!"
Whether it's other coworkers,
family members,
friends,
exes, 
people on television,
aggravating lead singers,
whiny celebrities, 
somebody with another countless cause,
whether valid or insane or out-sane,
a false prophet preacher,
a narcissist,
a gas lighter,
an in-law,
an outlaw,
the neighborhood raccoon,
the stray dog,
the girl that acts like a bitch,
the boy that acts like a dick,
do you just want to look at them
and say our sentence of inevitability?

"Just..shut..your..mouth..when..you're..
talking..to..me..!"

So, I guess, this is where we stand :
"Don't do as I say!
Don't do as I do!
Just don't do anything at all."

If you are thinking about it too hard,
then maybe you need to think about it soft.
(take that wherever you want!)
If you ever think that life sucks and is obnoxious,
like the drunk girl sitting behind you
at every concert you used to look forward
to attending as soon as you bought the ticket,
just know,
there's a starving woodpecker,
with a broken beak,
out in the wild.
If you are tired of treading water,
just know,
there's an armless beaver still
damning up your local creek or stream. 
If your life does not have enough zing and zip,
move to hurricane alley,
put a single wide trailer onto an acre of land 
in a flood plain,
and wait until one of them non-racist bitches
starts swirling your way. 
 
You might be saying to yourself by now,
my God, what happened here?
My response is plain and simple:
"if you have to ask me, then just guess."
In totality of the common and the uncommon
sense,
my response to everything,
now and days,
is exactly that.

"If..you..have..to..ask..me..then..just..guess."

Should you smoke cigarettes while refueling
your car?
Guess.
Should you make a Tik Tok or Snap Book video,
and post it on Face Gram or Insta Chat?
Guess.
Should you vote Republican or Democrat?
Neither, because they are wings of the same,
tired ass bird.
Should you toast bread in a toaster  
next to your lukewarm bath?
Guess.
Should you take any election, from here on out,
seriously?
Guess.
Should they impeach Trump?
Guess - but why waste time and tax payer money
when they got what they wanted anyway?
Some idiots would impeach all our presidents,
especially JFK,
if they could.

Wait!

Huh?

Insane / Out-sane.

Should we put Black Lives Matter on NBA courts?
Guess, 
but the answer should be obvious and
have a lot of zeroes. 
Should you wave a flag or protest or burn shit
down or donate money or yell through a bull horn
or hold up a sign or hashtag something or start
a movement then forget about it after the
wave or waves roll back into the endless sea 
of other forgotten things?
Guess.
Should we have to tell people to end racism?
Guess.
Should all Band-Aids be clear to promote equality?
Guess.
Should I take a backseat to someone who does 
not work as hard as me and has less creative
spark so everyone is on a equal playing field?
Guess.

But your first inclination is to say,
"easy for you to say because you're white!"
I would say,
"so I cannot like Wu-Tang either,
or sushi,
or Kia's,
or enchiladas,
or sweet and sour chicken,
or cherry flavored black n milds
or water chestnuts
or anime
or BMW's
or pizza
or Danny Glover?"

I'd smoke a cigar with Louis Gossett Jr.,
like,
right now!

I know, I know.
I'm not a spring chicken anymore.
I just feel sorry for the winter chickens.
The summer chickens.
The fall chickens.
They are so neglected,
and it's a shame that they cannot get recognized
by their more famous counterparts because they
were marginalized by a fiscal stereotype.
A mere word,
if all of us would stop to realize,
"words depends on us more than we do them!"

Do you know why the chicken crossed the road?
You already know the answer.
If you have to ask me, then guess.

I made up everything in this post.
None of this is real,
nor would it be on any logical planet.
There is no reason for alarm,
or having to worry about re-living all of this
in the near or distant future because we
are a very intelligent species and are only
bound for greatness, for one reason and 
one reason alone.

Want to know what it is?

You got it!

Guess!     

---

: Personal Playlist Jam below :

---

“If you have to ask me, then guess.”

“Don’t do as I do! Don’t do as I say! Just don’t do anything at all!”

“Just shut your mouth when you’re talking to me!”

“If it doesn’t make sense, then you are doing it right!”

Crab Boat Captain ALH

---

My work is done here…

For now…