Essay

Not My Last Supper

I have the luxury (or curse) of having ten plus years of stuff I’ve written on record, either in this blog or in thousands of pages of notes. We have a terrible habit these days of taking a tweet some guy wrote ten years ago and using it to sink their entire career. On occasion, I’m going to uses things I’ve written in the past to show you how absurd this practice is. I barely recognize things I wrote a year ago, much less ten. While I take responsibility for the things I wrote, because I did write them, I ask that you allow me the opportunity to change my mind. To admit I was wrong. Please let me learn from my mistakes, even if it takes years.

This is not easy for me to do but I think it is important. Something I wrote two years ago came up again and I feel the need to address it. “My Last Supper” is a small post, only 500 words, but it still lives with people I care about. And it’s ugly. And I’d like to correct the record. 

This old post is about how much trouble I used to have attending large gatherings like dinners. Instead of trying to figure out why and fix the issues in my life, I decided to blame the dinners themselves and my friends for even inviting me to them. I wanted you to know how much I hated the evenings and I wanted you to in turn quit having them or at least quit inviting me. The people that I’m speaking to in this post aren’t adversaries, they are people that I love. Why do I so crudely admonish them for inviting me to a party? I don’t know. I think I was looking for something or someone to blame for my unhappiness. Other than me of course. 

Honestly, I wanted to just delete the post because it is so hard for me to read and admit I even wrote. But because someone recently brought it up again, because they were planing a nice dinner and they were worried I would not agree to come, I feel the only way I can erase the damage the post has done is to address it verbatim. I so easily forget that the things I write and say matter. Even if it only matters to a few people.  

The words in bold are from the old post. They appear unchanged. I’ll also link the post here. Continue reading “Not My Last Supper”

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Humor

Don’t Hate Carrots

Hop T. Hare loves baloney, but all he was allowed to eat was carrots. Hop was so sick of carrots. Once, he ate so many carrots, he turned orange. 

One day, Hop was playing in a yard and he saw an open window. Normally, Rabbits don’t sneak into Human houses, but Hop had refused to eat his breakfast carrots this morning and he was starving. Hop, against all his Rabbit judgement, jumped through the window and went to the kitchen. Continue reading “Don’t Hate Carrots”

Charleston, Christmas, Humor

So This is Christmas

DJI_0017

And what have you done, Yoko?

I wouldn’t say it’s my “favorite” time of year only because a seventy-five degree day in April is pretty awesome; but I do enjoy Christmastime. I realize that I have neglected these pages the last few months, and for that I am sorry. No excuses. I do appreciate those who have enjoyed and supported this blog over the years. My most popular work by far is pieces about the holidays, so I would be remiss if I didn’t disappoint you one more time before 2019 with some thoughts on Christmas. Continue reading “So This is Christmas”

Humor

The Holiday Stupids

The “Holiday Stupids” are the people and things that I like to mock during this otherwise wonderful time of year. I do love the holidays, but they also bring forth a certain type of imbecile that can’t help but to inject themselves into our happy holiday celebrations. I’d like to describe some of these people for you in an effort to expose their atrocities and end their reign of terror.

Dos and Don’ts

Throughout the Internet, annoying posters are writing “Dos and Don’ts” lists for various holiday traditions like office parties and gift giving. If Mork popped out of his intergalactic egg just in time for his first Christmas, then he may need these lists but the rest of us could do without. (The word “dos” doesn’t need an apostrophe by the way; most of these idiot authors make that mistake) They include things like, “don’t drink too much” and “don’t sexually harass your co-workers.” So you’re saying the drunken make out session on the copier is out, Copernicus? The people I feel sorry for are the poor saps writing this filth. They are probably some repressed HR director who think us dumb-ass sheep need these reminders. Hey, Biff, have a drink and lighten up.

Continue reading “The Holiday Stupids”

Humor

When Black Friday Comes

When Black Friday comes

I’m gonna dig myself a hole

Gonna lay down in it ‘til

I satisfy my soul

-Steely Dan, “Black Friday.”

I love Black Friday. Not because I participate but because of the discourse it provokes. Google “hate Black Friday” and you will see scores of the self-righteous exclaiming in very cliché fashions why the day and those who engage in it are horrible. Google “love Black Friday” and you will see studies done by academics on the psychological reasons we can’t help but flood Wal-mart at 5 AM in order to save some money on socks. Really? Can’t we just shop without being analyzed?  Then there are the people in the middle of it all; the 247 million “shoppers” who participated in Black Friday weekend in 2012. That number kind of makes me think that everyone else needs to shut up. Continue reading “When Black Friday Comes”