July 26 - Let's be the goodness

“Often injustice lies in what you are not doing, not only in what you are doing.” - Marcus Aurelius

    I believe we are all individual components of a much larger whole and what hurts you hurts me and vice versa. We can’t even hurt ourselves without hurting everybody else. And in the context of the quote above, apathy and inaction, which allow evil to thrive and grow, are as dangerous as the evil itself. Behind every evil person and act is a crowd of people with their hands in their pockets, looking at the sky, pretending they don’t know or understand what’s going on. Or pretending they’re powerless. Pretending they are not cowards.

    So, we hurt each other and ourselves through complacency. The consequence of complacency is everybody suffers. Pretty easy math. (The math of personal responsibility usually is).
BUT

    Action is hard and in the face of overwhelming odds, overwhelming hate, overwhelming evil, evil that is so well structured, protected and maintained, you, a mere individual, have no power, no way to fight back, no control. I’d guess we’ve all turned our back on some horror we had no control of. I know I have. I had to! Mental health can become endangered. We can only take so much before our minds tear. So, what can we do?

    Be the example.

    Be that which you want to see in the world. If it\s change you want, be the change you want. If you want a greener planet, make your part greener. Less mean? Be nicer. War begets war. Love begets love. Not always, not even consistently, maybe. But the results are immaterial. If you want less war, make less wear. Do the next good thing you can do and keep on doing just that. Because just as we hurt others when we hurt ourselves (and vice versa), we help others when we help ourselves. (And I don’t mean helping yourself to the whole tray of crab cakes at the party. What is wrong with you, Ray?) The math is the same. It’s an ecosystem, you see. If we work to keep ourselves healthy, happy, active, and moving, then everyone around us will be effected. And if everyone did this…
Of course, we have to follow rules and a lot of the time the rules prevent us from being our true, wonderful selves. We resent this and go inward and become complacent. We let the world beat the care right out of us. And this is the practice. The way you get better is you practice. You set some small goal, go for it, check your results, adjust and then go again. Until you get good. Until it becomes easy. Then you add weight or distance. You turn up the metronome one click. You add a brick to your backpack. And you go again.
And you go again.
And you go again.

    We’ve all heard the words about ignoring the evil as it took everyone around us until it comes for us and there’s no one around to help. Good can work the same way. Hurt people hurt people. Healthy people help people just by being openly, deliberately, brazenly health. Be audaciously healthy. Have a good time.

    Being evil is easy. Being complacent is even easier. No motion is what’s happening in the woods most of the time. So, applying time and energy to be good, to improve yourself or your environment, to focus on the good you can control, is an effort. So is getting good at anything. So is achieving a goal. So is resisting the temptations of perverse incentives, easy excuses, and socially reinforced complacency.

    Spend your energy here. Be the goodness. It’s worth it. For everybody.

    Of course, I write this to myself as much as to anyone else. If I can do that which I know is good...

07-14-21

    Today is July 14, 2021. 

    07-14-21.

    For those numerically-minded folks, you immediately see a 7, a 14, and a 21. 

    777. 

    3 sevens.

    Humans love 7. We see it all the time. It’s perfect for so many things! Two teams of three plus one referee. An even circle of six with seven in the middle. Seven narrative points to help tell the story. The Seventh Seal! The Seventh Son! Segram's 7 and 7!
    Throughout human history we see sevens. Seven this, seven that. Seven seven seven! And today is 7 plus 7 plus 7. What does it all mean?

    Nothing. Nothing at all. I think numerology is a consequence of innumeracy, a crafty way to turn math (logic) into magic (belief). 

    Whenever I see a clock that says 11:11 I think "Angel time" because I used to listen to crazy late night AM radio (now crazy daytime breaking news) and a big topic back then was angels and how if you ever notice a clock reading 11:11 an angel is doing something. I guess angels weren't operating in the days before digital clocks. (They never talked about that on the late night nut show.) 

    

    Being a big ol' sucker for pattern recognition, I notice these things but rather than taking them as a sign from an angry and/or benevolent god, I take them as a chance to pause and think about the way we name things, our systems of organization, etc. There's no actual significance to any of these number sequences. I mean, times, dates, it's all predictable. Then again, if it's June 6 and my flight is number 666 and it takes off at 6:66, I might change that flight. 

    

    Anyway, I like 7 and especially 777 (it's the name of my guitar!) and I'll take this opportunity to put in another good word for the number seven (7).

    

    And I'll leave you with this:   

    Q: Why is 6 afraid of 7?

    A: Because 7 8 9.  
    Of course, that's what they want you to think. 6 is afraid of 7 for a whole host of reasons. We'll get into it in the next hour when we're joined by our next guest. She's a white witch who used to work for the NSA and has some very...very interesting things to say when Coast to Coast returns.

    SFX: A thunder clap.

    And then an ad for some ointment!
   

    Hoo ha!

 

Discipline

    All you King Crimson folks get it. Three drummers at The Bowl? Good lord. I don't even need to get into it.

    For the rest of use, we just need to remember that Discipline is merely above average daily care. That's why drinking eight more ounces of water today really is improvement. It's just "above average." And when that extra eight becomes the new average, you add another eight. Slow, easy, daily progress is the way nature works and, since we are nature, that's what works for us. This crash course / overnight / shock to the system business is war think. Little boy stuff. 

    And Indiscipline? Well, I repeat myself when under stress 
I repeat myself when under stress 
I repeat myself when under stress 
I repeat myself when under stress 
I repeat

Later That Day At Google Blog Headquarters...

EXT: GOOGLE BLOG HEADQUARTERS - DAY
It's a huge glass building in downtown Chicago. The snow is driving hard. Chicago doesn't seem to mind.

INT: EDITORS OFFICE - DAY
THE EDITOR flexes his muscles and reminds himself he's tough and worthy. THE MANAGER breaths deeply but silently, keeping it together. He's been here before. Of course he has. This is the job.

GOODLY, THE PERFORMANCE  BLOGGER, sits in an absurdly small chair, not sure why he's been called in. He twirls a giant ring of keys and stares at a spot on the rug.

MANAGER: Look, Goodly, I want this thing to sing and soar just like you do. Same team. I'm on your side.

EDITOR: Not me! I pit myself against the author. I beleive my job is to act as an antagonist force. I only care about looking good and tending to my endless unpleasability!

The Manager blinks slowly, an old self-maintenance trick he learned at the dojo. He turns to Editor and smiles as he empties a pocket full of cigarettes, chew and snuff on the desk.

MANAGER: Easy there, Champ. Here, have some tobacco products.

The Editor stuffs his mouth with the products, suddenly a big dumb child.

EDITOR: My muv mabacco! Chomp chomp!

The manager sighs and looks out the window. Chicago is buried under six feet of snow. August didn't used to be this way.

MANAGER: Look, Goodly, we've got a real issue here. Your name came up at the Google Blogger Board the other day. 
GOODLY: The Google Blogger Board.

MANAGER: The Bloogles. That's what they call themselves.
GOODLY: Any adults working over there in the name department?
MANAGER: No, and that's not the point. There've been... complaints.
GOODLY: Complaints? What kind of complaints? I'm invisable. I write a free blog for nobody on a second rate forgotten platform. 

EDITOR: Hey! I work for this company! I demand respect! I demand it! Give it. GIVE IT TO ME!

Awakward beat.

EDITOR: I was top of my class in school!
MANAGER: Say, Champ, I really do appreciate you letting us use your office while mine's being renovated.
EDITOR: Oh, it's no problem. I have a sense of belonging now.
MANAGER: Yeah, hey! Why don't you run down the hall, grab us all a cup of coffee? Okay?

Manager slides a couple of bills out of a neat leather billfold and hands them to Editor.

EDITOR: I like coffee! And tasks!

He's out the door in flash, the nicotine pumping through his system, the anticipation of more stimulants almost a taste in his mouth.

As the door closes, Manager relaxes his shoulders and loosens up.

MANAGER: Now, look. I know what you're going for, okay? It's the post-everything era and you gotta make an impression, if for nobody else, for yourself. Font tricks, wordy bits, format stuff, I get it. But the blog is a show is a blog is show thing...It's a blog, okay? 

GOODLY: Well, it's show but it's a blog that could be a--
MANAGER: Goodly, whatever! Okay? Whatever it is, it has to have some sort of ordering priniciple, some sort of identifiable something. It has to have...
GOODLY: Don't.
MANAGER: It needs...
GOODLY: Don't you say it.
MANAGER: There's no other word for it. The Bloogles say it lacks structure-

GOODLY: You said it! You said the word! (Fists to the heavens.) STRUCTUUUURE!

Goodly falls to his knees and gyrates as if he's in a war movie where we care about the guy who just got shot. Manager waits it out.

MANAGER: You all done? 

Goodly gets off the floor and dusts off his overalls, sitting back in the tiny chair. 

GOODLY: Okay. I'll admit that maybe things are a little chaotic over at the blog-
MANAGER: A little chaotic? Goodly, one of the ladies on the board read the entry about kittens-
GOODLY: One of my favorites.
MANAGER: Hers too. But a click and a scroll later and she's getting told to go fuck herself.
GOODLY: Well, not her specifically.
MANAGER: Yes, her specifically! You wrote "Anyone on the Google Board who thinks this blog is unstructured can go fuck him or herself."
GOODLY: Well, at least I didn't misgender anybody! Over at the Party Time Happy Blog they constantly use "he" when they mean they!
MANAGER: They who?
GOODLY: What?
MANAGER: You said "they" constantly use "he" when "they" mean "they." Who's "they?"
GOODLY: They! Them, the guys who write the blog.
MANAGER: It's a woman, Goodly. One woman. A "she." 
GOODLY: Well, I didn't know that so I used they!
MANAGER: Okay, this is what I'm talking about. You can't just vomit into the blog anymore. People are watching. They're paying attention. Like you asked them to.
GOODLY: No I didn't! I don't want attention YES I DO - No I Don't YES I DO nO I dO!

Goodly's back on the floor rolling around, hugging himself. Manager rubs his temples and takes a deep breath. Focus. The job. The job.

MANAGER: Okay, look. Relax. Just, take a breath. I have a simple suggestion-

GOODLY: NO! No Notes NO SUGGESTIONS! I'm a first-draft genius! I require no improvement!
MANAGER: Just, hear me out.

Goodly's too out of breath to argue.

MANAGER: What if, just to give people a sense of direction, you added...a Table O' Contents. 
GOODLY: A Table O' Contents! Buddy, it's a BLOG, not a BOOK.
MANAGER: And it would be a BOOK already had you listened to me and followed through with the plan from fucking 2005!
GOODLY: Don't book shame me! I'm the victim here! It was a pandemic! I had to move! I wore a mask for two years staight! My face smells like cheese! There was a girl! I ran out of money! I got distracted! I'm sick! I'm depressed! I'm sick of being depressed! I don't have any ideas! I had a crazy day job! I have too many ideas! I don't know who I am! The girl left! I got hurt! I got behind! I got cats! I'm not in control of anything and I don't have anything to say! A friend gave me the greatest couch in the world and I'd get on there with the cats and the dog and the remote control and a little dinner and I'd watch Tiger King and then I'd fall asleep and then I'd wake up and watch some more! 
MANAGER: Okay-
GOODLY: I watched the whole thing twelve times!
MANAGER: Okay!
GOODLY: I went to Tiger Town, man! Do you understand? I was wearing a mask in the house and I went to TIGER TOWN!
MANAGER: Are you done!

Beat.

GOODLY: No.
MANAGER: Listen, a quick table o' contents. Just order the first six or ten bits and see how it feels. It might actually help you, answer some questions. 
GOODLY: I already answered questions in that What The F'n D part.
MANAGER: No you didn't and they're asking for a table o' contents.

GOODLY: I don't want to do it.
MANAGER: Okay, well you've forced my hand.
GOODLY: I didn't touch your hand!
MANAGER: If The Bloogles don't see some attempt at navigation... they'll sell your blog to a Chinese blog factory and somebody else will write it.
GOODLY: What the-! How can-! Who says-! I'm supposed to-!

The Manager pulls up the terms of service but Goodly doesn't have to look. He knows what it says. He knew what he signed on for as soon as he posted the first entry. Broken and white, Goodly slumps in his chair and makes a pouty face on purpose.

MANAGER: They want it now. Today. And that's a personal favor to me from them. They wanted to ship you out yesterday, right after Crazy Visual Word Salad.
GOODLY: The salad part was implied, you know.
MANAGER: You've got 24 hours.  

Only now does Goodly fully grasp the severity of the situation.

GOODLY: I suppose I should be grateful to you. For saving my blog.
MANAGER: What can I say? I lost a bet.
GOODLY: I wish you wouldn't put it that way.
MANAGER: Yeah, well. Never race for papers, right? Okay, get out of here before ding dong comes back and starts remembering things. 

Goodly gets up and looks at the door, hesitant.

MANAGER: Take the back way. Tell the guard downstairs to call me for authorization. 

Manager goes to a keypad in the wall and taps in a code. A panel slides back, revealing a small elevator. 

GOODLY: Thanks, Daymon. 
MANAGER: Is that my name?
GOODLY: I...I haven't decided yet.
MANAGER: Of course you haven't.
GOODLY: It could be something else-.
MANAGER: Just...do the table o' contents.

Goodly steps into the elevator. The door closes and the panel slides back, obscuring the exit. Manager walks over and looks out at a rising yet freezing Lake Michigan.

MANAGER: How did I ever get mixed up in this business.

But he knows exactly how he got mixed up in this business. 

Manager turns, sits down at the Editor's desk and begins tearing through the drawers, taking everything valuable he can find.
 
BLACKOUT!
 

Flossing Your Teeth Parts

    Flossing your teeth is about the most Stoic thing you can do. Consider!

    You're taking care of yourself. Of course you are! This is dental hygiene at its finest. Gettin' out all those bits and rocks. As soon as you've done it, you' re better off. You've left your mouth better than you found it. Stoic!
    You're taking care of your community. We've all had a conversation with somebody who smells like they've been hittin' the road kill buffet with the local poodle.

Did you just gargle with something dead you found in the woods? 

And if you bring it up, they'll often say "That's strange. I done brushed my teeth this morning."

Was that before your breakfast of fecal toast and sulfur dots?

The answer could be the pieces of rotting meat stuck between their teeth. But not you! You've got the freshest of mouths 'cause you done flossed it! Stoic!

It's easy to do, easy not to do. This is one my favorite Jim Rohn lines and it's a real Stoic attitude: Do the good which you can as soon as you can because you can. This covers a lot of little things (up on time, a little stretchy, maybe a walk, eight onces of water) that would really help us through our days but we don't do them mostly because they seem so small and easy we don't attach worth to them. The people who do attach worth to them are the people who do them. They know the practice is the benefit, the habit of doing those little things is the juice. They make their bed and hit the day running. Stoic!

Nobody cares / Only you know. There's no glory in teeth flossing. No one gets prizes or accolades for most consecutive days flossing or the most flossed mouth. And whether you do or don't matters not a whit to anyone. The universe will be just fine with your mouth full of last night's popcorn and Sticky Fat ®. Chances are, nobody will even know. But you'll know.
    Character is what you do alone in the dark or, in this case, alone in the bathroom with the floss. And while two lines don't constitute a proper paragraph, this second line ends the entry anyway.  

   

Sticky Fat ® is a registered trademark of MoneyFude Inc.
So don't even front.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

The Ones to Read First

1. Table of Contents (You are here!) 👈
2. The Abouts
3. Welcome To The Brainwash and Book Tour and a coupla other things....
   
4. Crazy Visual Word Salad
5. Meanwhile, Across the Street At The Poe Show Theater...
6. You Have Questions
7. Words
8. Later That Day...
   

MEANWHILE, ACROSS THE STREET AT THE POE SHOW THEATER and BODY SHOP

(Audience applause as Emily Dickenson cartwheels off stage, her dancing puppies in tow.)

POE: Emily Dickenson, everyone. Wow. She had a lot more energy than I expected. And those puppies – Delicious! Okay, moving on. Hey Raven, you know the difference between doing sketch comedy and writing at my desk?

RAVEN: Nevermore.

POE: In sketch comedy, the blackout means the scene is over and it’s time to move on to the next bit. With writing at my desk, the blackout means I wake up in a ditch in Baltimore wearing somebody else’s pants!

(Grim Shot. Audience groans.)

RAVEN: Nevermore.

POE: Don’t “nevermore” me, you flea bitten rat bird! I was in great distress! I was in need of immediate assistance! And pants! I was in Baltimore!

(Hearing the word “Baltimore,” the local crowd goes nuts. People love hearing their hometown name-checked. Poe holds his classic “I’m starving to death up here” look and eventually the audience is howling. Classic Poe!)

POE: Okay, We’ll be right back after these words from Mark Twain and his new Married Ladies-Only Summer Bible Camp. So, sit back, relax and choke on something soft.

(Nicky Tesla fires up his double neck electric violin and the band launches into ZZ Top’s Jesus Just Left Chicago. Poe chair-dances behind his desk as the Audience calls ahead to make sure they have a ride home.)

BLACKOUT!

(Ah! My pants again!)

Next up...You have questions >>>

THE ABOUTS:

    Ed "Filibuster" Goodman is a writer-improvisor (wrimprovisor) who has performed, studied, and taught in Chicago, Kansas City, Las Vegas and LA. Currently, Ed presents Ed Goodman’s Ol’ Timey Brainwash & Book Tour, a one man disasterpiece where he sings, dances, and tells stories from the book he hasn’t written.* Ed was born in North Carolina so don’t try to tell him ribs and bbq are the same thing. ‘Cuz they ain’t, Cuz.

*Lie! Ed doesn’t sing or dance.

    Alt. North Carolina joke (for Clubmembers only):
Ed's from North Carolina but he don't eat dirt no more!

    (Ahem)

    This is my blog’s “about” (bloggabout). If this were a program for the live show, it would be my “bio” and include the sentence “Thanks to Tam and Jerr for believing in me. We did it!” and have a picture of me in a leotard.

    Emphasis on tard.

    If this were a book jacket, this would be on the back flap and include the sentence “special thanks to all the students who were wholly uninterested in my lectures allowing me plenty of time to write. Also, a special special thank you to all the TA’s who helped me with the T's & the A’s. Know what I mean? Once I get tenure I’m going nuts. I'm a white man with tenure! So, office hours are be gonna be after hours and go on for hours and hours.”
    And there would be a picture of me standing in front of a lot of books with a pipe looking like a communist. Or what we all think communists look like. You know, skinny, glasses, pointy beard, a degree in English from some East Coast University. A real "man of the people." 

    Emphasis on tard.**

    As it is, this is my bloggabout and doesn’t include a sentence at all. (C'ept for that one about about bbq.)

    **And no I can't make that joke anymore so I won't.

Next up...The Brainwash >>>

WHAT THE F’N D, YO (or) Welcome to the Brainwash

     Now, at this point you might be all “What the hell is this? I done read The Abouts and a couple of entries and now I have questions. Is this a blog based on a book? Or a show? Or a mental illness? Or is there a show based on a book and the blog is from the book? Or is the blog the outline of a show that might be a book someday that will then require a tour to support that book? Or is the blog in addition to a show that may or may not have anything to do with the book you haven’t written but if you did would it be full of backstage intrigue and personal gossip like who’s sleeping with whom, who really hates each other, and how all that works seeing as it’s a solo performance starring just you? I mean, seriously, are you sleeping with your co-stars, who are also you, and do you churn’em and burn’em Hollywood style or do you really take an interest in their careers outside the show and if so are you afraid you may accuse yourself of something salacious later on and have to write a book to defend yourself or at least do a tell all show about it?” 

    To these inquiries, I have two answers. First, yes (and thanks for asking) and second you didn’t even mention the podcast I’ve never done. 

    Welcome to the Brainwash. 

(BLIZZZZZZACKOUT!)

Next up: Words! >>>>

A Quick Word About ”Flow-Through Bags"

You’re a flow-through bag.

#SickBurn

WELCOME TO THE BRAINWASH AND BOOK TOUR...and blog...

(Lights up, center spot, on a small, empty stage. No set, no scenery, just a simple desk with an open laptop on it. The Performance Blogger sits behind the computer and addresses the audience directly. That’s right, directly.)

Hey everybody and welcome. I hope you’re comfortable. Though, let’s face it, comfort may not be what we should be concerned about these days. Am I right?

(A small “whoop” from in the back.)

There you go. Somebody gets it. So, welcome to the Ol’ Timey Brainwash and Book Tour and...Blog...and show? You know, as I sit here, staring into the darkness that I know is both the void and your unquenchable need for distracta-validation, I think about how’d I’d rather be doing this as a show - a show show. I mean...it is a show. It’s a blog - but it’s a show. And I think about how I’d much rather have you, the audience, here with me, a big roomful of living bodies, sitting right in front of me, in the dark, suspended in the moment, together, with me, us, sharing the space, breathing each other’s air-

(A cough from the back row over on the right.)

 The same planetary air we all share -

 (Another cough.)

 Breathing in each other -

(The coughs explode into a full on fit, an endless spasm of wet, hacking cough. Everybody starts thinking about blood stains on handkerchiefs and all those pictographs showing how airborne droplets move around small spaces. No one’s into the show anymore. Or the blog. The Performance Blogger addresses The Cougher in The Dark.)

Hey, Sir Coughs-A-Lot, you wanna take it outside? I’m runnin’ a blog show here, not a triage tent in the Wal Mart parking lot.

 SIR COUGHS-A-LOT: I’m fine (cough). I’ll be fine (hack). I’m good. (Hack!) Just need a little water.

 (Coughs-A-Lot sips some water and immediately hack-sprays it out over the entire right side of the audience. The Audience goes berserk.)

AM#1: That spit take’s going viral! It’s a viral spit take!

AM#2: They gots the Deltas!

AM#3: It’s Covid Connie! Look everybody, it’s Covid Connie!

COUGHS-A-LOT: I am not Covid Connie! Stop calling me that! (Hack!) I’m not-

(HAAACK! And this time a small piece of green gravy flies across the room and kersplat! hits the Performance Blogger right in the eye.)

 AM#4: Superspreader event!

 (The crowd stampedes. It’s like Woodstock II up in there but without all the ecstasy and Limp Bizkits.)

AUDIENCE – Outta my way! / My concern for others has evaporated! / Fauci was right about Wu Tang! / When y’all said live experimental live blog-theater nobody said nothin’ bout me bein’ a guinea pig for your disease stockpile! I ain’t no petri dish! (Etc.)

(In a flash, The Audience has disappeared and once again, The Performance Blogger is alone. An opportunity to heal, to come together, to laugh and maybe make a few bucks is gone. The Performance Blogger addresses the now empty MindSpace Theater. At $350 a night, may as well enjoy the air conditioning.)

Well, shoot.

(Sigh)

Maybe I’m glad it’s a blog and not a show. I mean, it is a show but...I’m not sure I’m ready for the close up and breathing experience again. Apparently you’re not. Running out of here like that. Look, somebody left their purse.

 (Sigh)

I thought it would be the usual crowd. Two friends, two acquaintances, and one lost soul who misread the description and thought it was a revival meeting or something. I try to be explicit in the explanations but…
I guess I’m just not ready for more than five people at a time. (Begins going through the purse.) Damnit, no cash? And who carries Lifesavers anymore? Anyway, welcome to it. The show, I mean. The Blog. The show blog. The show that’s a blog. The – this thing.
Whatever.
Welcome to it.

BLACKOUT!

#ViralSpittakeIsMyNewFunkMetalDanceBand #ShredForHire #NoHashtagsForTheBlogGag

Next up...Crazy Visual Word Salad >>>

The Great Blog Impossibility Act

    Part of the trade off in using technology is giving up some vision. What you wanted to do gets watered down into what you're allowed to do, a sort of techno-authoritarianism. If plain ol' authoritarian -ism is "My way or the broken jaw way," techno-authoritarianism is "My way or the no way." Or "My way or maybe your columns don't line up and you get text overwriting text and now it's impossible to read. This is what you get for leaving me out of clubs in grade school."

    More on this later!
    

LAUNCH! (or the entry from JULY 4, 2021)

("...Instead of going to a cookout, he stayed home...We'll I don't like it either, Dedra! He just stays up there in the room all day...he says he's blogging....I don't know what it means, Dedra! That's why I'm calling you!...Okay, look, I can't do this right now. I'm on in five minutes and I have to make sure they wipe down the pole...because it's got sweat all over it, Dedra! You know how it is!")

-Overheard backstage at Shooters III. That was your mom talking. Your mom. The stripper.

* * * * * *

    Oh my god! America is 243 years old today. You think your grandpa has trouble understanding how to order dementia meds on a smart phone, imagine a 243 year old understanding voter suppression. Forget it!
    Today, I declare my independence from not having a blog. Am I 30 years too late? Possibly. Should I care? Maybe. Will I eventually invite you to go fu*k yourself if you have an issue with it? Allow me to extend that invitation riiiiiiight now. (RUDE! How dare me! Who do I think I am? Also: Where do I get off / What makes me so smart / That attitude of mine is really gonna get me in trouble blah blah blah, etc.)
    Now, I’m not 243 years old, nor was I established with the institution of slavery at the core of my very soul, so I don’t have much to complain about. I'll have to think of some stuff. You know, things that affect me.
    Is the bar that low? Apparently. And to put a point on it, I live in a small town in the South East so my bar is so low I can’t even hum it! And while that joke may not exactly make “sense,” it does stand as a nice example of what I’m shooting for here: 100 word minimums, a fuck ton of sass, and proof that I am, in fact, far too big for my britches. I mean, seriously, who do I think I am? And where do I get off?
    For starters, I’m gonna get off right here.

    (Exits bus right in front of Shooters III, pulls out a stack of single dollar bills.)

    I guess I'm about to finance your allowance, son. 'Cause your mom's a stripper!

    #SickBurn
    #ShootersIII
    #ThirdInASeries

    (This entry is over!)

    BLACKOUT!

*u

Managing to Survive

    Here we go.

    Alright, for the past decade or so, I've sold my time to survive in the rental property induhstry. Yes, that's right. I'm a professional on-site manager. I'm the one you call when you get confused by your light bulbs and can't figure out where the smell is coming from (hint: It's you. It's your place. It's how you live.) So much of this job is baby sitting, keeping old people from falling into the pool, picking up dog poop in the hallway, explaining the same things to the same people over and over and over.

    

    No, your desk lamp light bulb is not part of maintenance.

    No, the pool's been there the whole time.

    No, we really do need you to take your dog outside the building to poop. Outside your apartment isn't outside enough. 
 

    I sit on an unnatural perch and have unnatural insight into how people live (unnaturally). How people organize their lives (or don't), manage the space in which they live (or don't) and conduct themselves in a small, forced community is endlessly fascinating and ultimately exhausting.

    Also: Cars are ultimately more trouble than they are worth. We should trade the cars for more trains and walking. 

    If I had to come up with one word (words!) for this job, it would be DON'T. But "free" rent is pretty attractive, isn't it? And no evicting the manager during the pandemic...right?

    A better word, or at least the word I try to use as much as possible, is the word REASONABLE. Most of the time if people could just be reasonable, the problems would evaporate or never materialize in the first place.

    I think this is a valuable topic to explore, this business of selling temporary space to people who need housing. It's weird. It's upsetting. A lot of the the renters' and owners' day-to-day issues are manufactured (or at least avoidable). And a lot of it is completely unreasonable.

    And what's really unreasonable is the pilot I've been writing (and re-writing) for ten+ years (Managing to Survive) is still not a global hit. I mean, I'm supposed to translate this life-altering chaos job into an easy to follow narrative with relatable (but not boring) characters, hilarious (but believable) situations, with deep (but not preachy) insight into the human condition AND it's all gotta happen in under 32 pages AND, let me get this straight, it's suppsed to be funny? 

    Now that's unreasonable.


    (But I'll always take a meeting! Also, Draft #5 is done!)

Brainwashing II: Return of the Washed Brains

    Now you may be saying (out loud - do it - say it out loud!) Goodly, I happen to prefer the flavor -enhanced, taste-impacted, hand-crafted artesianal cheeses from Global Cheesers' Signature Select line of deli-style serving cheeses. You need to understand, this cheese is taste-impacted!

    And that's a great point. And who can argue with a line of cheeses that has the company president's signature right there on the label. I mean, that's pretty much a legally binding guarantee of quailty. I also understand that seeing is believing is seeing etc. So, if you haven't taken a moment for yourself lately, side step this little bit of bloggy nonsense right here and read about the man whose been making your breakfast your whole life. I present to you the King of Eggs and Bacon, Edward Bernays.

    He's called "The Father of Spin" but he should really be called "The Almighty God of Propaganda." 

    Read up, cupcake. And if you aren't terrified when you're done, then you, my friend, are part of the problem.

    #OhSnap!

Brainwashing

    Okay, so, we all know that the brainwash is active, ongoing, aimed directly at us and working. In fact, I think it's pretty obvious that the modern methods of brainwashing are more effective than ever. And the advances are not only technological but cultural. I mean, do you think of advertising as brainwashing? Do you consider political lies a form of psy-ops? What about the mythologies you chose to believe? What's coming through the various feeds you ingest on the daily? And when do the stories you tell yourself about yourself stop being just stories and start becoming dominant thoughts? Character traits? Behaiviors? 

    But wait, Goodly! (You’re saying) I’m in full control of my brains. I’m modern. I know the difference between ad copy and news, fact and fiction, truth and lie. I know why I think what I think about what I think. How could I possibly be brainwashed?

    Great question. I know it’s great because I wrote it and then put it in your head.
    And that’s the answer. It’s happening now. PICKLES! You weren’t thinking about PICKLES but you are now. Because you’re consuming the words I’m writing and I’ve decided you need PICKLES in your brain right now. Your brain is recording these words. All of them. PICKLES! And whether or not you accept the premise of the content of the words (words!) you’re consuming (that premise being I am brainwashing you right now) it doesn’t matter because at the end of this entry one thing is for sure: You’re gonna be thinking PICKLES! because I wrote PICKLES! enough for that word (PICKLES!) to stick in your head. I’ve done it to you. I put a hook in your brain. A hook named PICKLES!


    Coming to NETFLIX this fall:
    (Cue soft music)
    Of all the prosthetic arms in the hospital, this one had a dream: To be part of the egg juggling act in the local clown circus. Don’t miss A HOOK NAMED PICKLES. It will crack your shell and make you cry (or at least run all yolky all over the place).

    NETFLIX: Get friendly with someone who pays for it!

    P.S: Pickles!

            P.P.S: I done watched Tiger Town twelve times!

            P.P.P.S: I've just been informed it's not called "Tiger Town." The actual title is "Tiger King." And I did watched it twelve times. But it's not my fault! It was pandemic couch time!

Both

    A thought.

    I’ll go ahead and say I’m not a fan of this version. If I can think it better, I’ll change it. But here’s the gist of it:

    The Earth is a single, unique planet AND The Earth is one of a trillion objects in space.

    It is both.

    You are a collection of millions of cells AND you are one whole human.
    You are both.

    You are one, single human AND you are part of a huge organism of seven billion+ other parts collectively called “humanity.”
    You are both.

    You are a unique individual AND you’re just like everyone else on Earth.
    You are both.

    You are your own master (free will) AND you are a product of the world in which you were raised and live (victim/result).
    You are both.

    You’re the same as you’ve always been AND not the person we thought we knew.
    You are both.

    You are both of a lot of things that seem contradictory. Call it the dichotomies of life. Call it the human condition. Call it the contradictions of scope. Whatever you call it, you need to get comfortable with it because this is how the universe is, how we all are, how “it” is. Contradiction is part of our reality. A billion things to make one thing which is itself one of a billion other things. The pattern is replicated throughout the natural world, our lives, our brains, our bodies.

    Your life is the memory of lots of moments. A forest is comprised of trees. An ocean is just a collection of drops. A movie is a bunch of still pictures. A solo is a series of notes. This piece is a string of words. And your thesis is a pile of garbage. (Oh snap! I done insulted your life’s work!)

    So what? Who cares? What difference does it make? I’ll tell you! I believe humility, true humility, comes from a recognition of the impossibility of being just one thing. And modern humanity’s collective myopia around “who we are” has allowed us, collectively, to obliterate our (only) habitat. But our collective effort, I believe, can still solve the problems we’ve created.

    But it can only happen if we (as individuals) act as a whole (one, powerful force) to make the place better “for all” (that is “us” as individuals AND “us” as the collective whole).

    So, if you think you’re just one thing, stick around. In a minute you’ll think you’re something else. When we lose contact with the whole we feel alone, a tiny individual in a huge, uncaring universe. When we get lost in the crowd (too much in the whole), we long for our individuality, our freedom, our one-ness. We want both, are both, all the time.

    I mean, sometimes I think I’m just a tiny little slice of fresh-baked nuttiness.

    And sometimes I think I’m the whole fruitcake.

    I am both.

    (Chomp!)

Authenticity

   So, I think the move here is pretty simple. I'll ruminate upon a word during the day, scribble some notes, write the post in the evening, and then tweak it for the rest of my life.
    That sounds about right. 

    So, to answer your question, yes, I do think we're all suffering from a dire lack of authenticity. We live in a fairly superficial world, full of synthetic happiness and plastic distractions. Junk food, junk news, junk politics, junk ideas, junk religion, junk junk, and junk junk junk.

    Let's face it: We're addicted to fantasy and escape. We see it in the promises of advertisers and politicians. Our entertainment is all about slipping away from this (the real) world into a "better," created one. We so desperately want to believe things that can't possibly be real because when we look at how our world actually operates our first reaction is "This can't possibly be real." Our stories, our religions, our consumer fantasies, they all promise some version of transcendence and ascension, some way out, a Stairway to Heaven, so to speak. (Solo!)

    Now of course, the folks who want to sell us things have picked up on this need of ours and so this word is all over the ad copy. Not only are you getting artisanal whole grain flavor, you're getting authentic artisanal whole grain flavor. Like so many other perfectly useful words, this one is just more sales talk to fool you into buying. As a result, Authenticity is also sold as a commodity unto itself. We're told that one of the attractive features of our disaster presidents was "he's so authentic" To which I say I really don't expect anyone to vote for the authentic turd I left in the toilet this morning but then, I may be ignoring the lessons of 2016.

    Maybe if CNN runs my poop's rallies all day every day it will have a chance in the primaries. Because believe me, my poop's rallies are really something. (I'll leave you to your own comparisons and analogies. I think I've done enough here.)  

   (Ahem.)

  

    So, perhaps it's not simply authenticity that we're in dire need of. Perhaps it's something like  authentic goodness. But what the hell is authentic goodness? McDonald's french fries are authentically good and are made out salted cardboard. So what the F'n D, man?

    I lot of my ideals and examples of "goodness" are drawn from art, specifically, guitar music. Part of what I love about super-advanced guitar playing is there's no way to fake it. The first three rows of any guitar concert is populated with super-advanced guitar players (and those who wish to be) and you can read high level players talking about the pressure of having all these eyeballs watching every move. In fact, the first time I went to such a concert, one of the big questions I had was "How is this guy gonna pull off all that impossible stuff he did in the studio?" The answer is simple: They can really play like that. They are authentic virtuosos. And in a world where you find out studio tricks and collaborators and whole hidden industries exist to fool us into thinking we're getting "the real deal," I remember standing there and being deeply happy as I watched this guy tear through these impossible guitar parts live. Tears rolling down my cheeks as I realized the level of execution I was witnessing. Add that this particular player also dances the parts, looks everywhere but the guitar neck, and leads a band of some of the world's top musicians while doing things that literally have to be seen to be believed. That to me is authenticity. Being able to pull it off at will because you really can. Having the facility at your fingertips because you've put in the hours.

    And in working through this little thought blot, I'm put back in touch with the knowledge that I have no big answers and I still don't really know anything. But I want to. And that desire is authentic.

    [Out joke goes here!]

Crazy Visual Word Salad

Crazy Visual Word Salad:
A Study In Crazy, Words, and Salad (implied)

   Late July, 2020, I officially go crazy and spend the weekend writing a bunch of words on a white board. It looks nuts, doesn't it? And now I've undone myself because I just told you what to think of this picture. "Nuts." But that's what you're here for, right? To have some words put into your head? Allow me to proceed!
    

    Does this picture look like how you think? BAM! A hundred things going on at once, focus so easily pulled by yet another colorful word or interesting juxtaposition? Prior to my little trip on the Crazy Train to Word Town I'd been making lists of words. New words, old words, words that kept revealing themselves to me in one way or another. Each time I finished another list I'd ask "Why do I want to keep track of words I already know?" It's as if a part of me was saying "I know that things are going wrong for me (but) you gotta listen to my words. Yeah." (Solo)

    Ultimately, the paper lists didn't do it for me (whatever "it" was) and I took to the white board. I left this monstrosity up for a couple of days and seeing words randomly stuck next to other words made me think of  yet more words. I knew I could keep adding until they kicked in the door but why? What would be the point? What was the point of the lists in the first place? Why, why and, most of all, why? Eventually, I just settled on a general "I think these words are important right now." Maybe not "bro" but definitely things like "30 Day Notice" and "Authoritarianism." So, I figured I'd start a-slogging through a blog'n use these words as jumping off / falling down points. I took the picture, cleared the board, and immediately felt a little less crazy.

    Then my toaster oven informed me it had been sending information to the government. And that's how William Barr knows I like the cake with the strudles!

    (By the way, part of the fun of words is using them incorrectly. It makes for silly mouth music. Strudles!)

    In all the how-to-make-ten-million-dollars-blogging videos they say you have to announce what your blog is about right up front. Well, I want ten million dollars too so this blog is about two things: Words (did you get that?) and authenticity.

    No, wait, scratch that. It's only about one thing: Words. But the first word is authenticity. Why? Because I announced up top that I went a little dry-erase crazy there. And I think it's fair to say I may not have come all the way back. That's truth. That's authentic. So, here's my commitment to you, you hot, steamy blog reader: I'll tell you the truth as I see it, write every day, do the best I can, and use my words with care. If I'm wrong about everything, let's get me corrected pronto. Life's a-burnin'. And there are too many people wandering around being wrong all day. I have little interest in being one.

    I think we're all suffering from a dire lack of authenticity. We live in a fairly superficial world, full of synthetic happiness and plastic distractions. Junk food, junk news, junk politics, junk ideas, junk religion, junk junk, and junk junk junk.*

    

    So, what's the blog about? Mostly, me making a mess to amuse myself as I'm going off the rails. I'm not sure if I'm going or coming but "maybe, it's not too late - to learn how to love and forget how to hay-ee-ayee-ate." 
(Second solo, mostly tapping.)

This blog post is OVER!

*And heroin, which is also called "junk." I'd make a "sweet China white" or "chasing the dragon" joke right here but the only thing I know about heroin is what I picked up listening to Guns 'N Roses.**

**And if you're not a big fan of asterisk jokes, you're in the wrong place. But then, ultimately, aren't we all in the wrong place right now?

Next up: Meanwhile, across the street... >>>

Words: A List

It all begins with words! 

Advertising, America, Antagonism, Animals!, Anti-, Apathy, Arrogance, Art, Assimilation, Asymmetric, Authenticity, Authoritarianism, Autumn

Belief (seeing is believing is seeing), Bigotry, Books, Brains!, The Brainwash, 

Cats, Capitalism, Cars, Carcast, Chaos, Character, Color, Communication, Conflict, Consciousnesses, Corporate, Crazy, Creativity, Criticism, C/kulture,

Dogs, Dollars,  Discipline, 

Earth, Ed (Hey, that's my name!), Education, Effort, Ego/I

Fake, Failure, Fall, Fantasy (Football, Politics, Religion, etc), Fast, Focus group, Frat (puttin' the Rat in), Fretboard

Global, Gratitude, Groups, Guitars, Guns, 

Habituation, Halloween, History, Humanity, 

I, I-40. Ignorance, Infinity, Internet, -Ism, 

Jackassery, Jokes Jokes Jokes, 

Knowledge, Kulture, 

Language, Literature, Love, Luck

Madness, Magical thinking, Managing to Survive, Marshall Amplificaton, Masculinity, Mask, Media, Miracles, Money, Mouthfeel, Music, 

Nature, Nazis, Numbers, 

Opinion, Opportunism, Other, Ownership

Pandemic, Pattern Recognition, People, Perfection, Perverse
Incentive, Pizza!, Plastic, Podcast (what podcast? Seriously.), Policy, Pornification, Pro, Property, Psychopath, Psy-ops, 

Rain, Reality, Reasonable, Religion, Reparations, Repetition, Resistance, Retribution, 

Satch/Vai, Scope, Science, Social Toxicities, Speed, Spirit, Story, Strategy, Stratocster, Structure, Sugar,  

Team, Teaching, Technology, Thirty Day Notice, Triangulation, Time, Title, Trapped

Universe, Us and Them,

War, We, Wisdom, Words!, Write,

Van Halem, Volume, Virus, (Viris©), Vs,

You, Yin Yang

Zark, Zleg, Zshaque


Bonus words that might be numbers!
2+2=5
30 Day Notice
5150

Next up: Later that day...