Greetings from the Cole Retirement Community

Day one at the Cole Retirement Community (our motto: “The food is great, the pets are awesome, the hearing is suspect, and the conversation is sketchy at best”) has begun with a fresh round of cleaning, with my father surgically cleaning every square inch of the house, muttering “there’s hair everywhere” the entire time. No one is safe, and the morning ritual for the Cole pets includes a vigorous brushing:

The conversation is, as always, a delight:

And look, I am NOT pinning this on my parents, because I am every bit as bad. I was sitting in the living room and the tv was tuned to the Today Show, and they had a long segment on their fitness goals and kept mentioning planking and I blurted out “what the hell is planking?” A minute or so later, my dad walked through the room dusting and they mentioned planking again, and my dad said to no one in particular “what the hell is planking?” A few minutes later, mom, who had been in the room the entire time but was reading, looked up, looked at me, and asked “Do you know what planking is?”

Lily, of course, is nonplussed:

Dad’s lift chair rental arrived this morning (he’s having another knee surgery), and then I suppose we will go to the beach and the dog park.

I’ll Hide My Shoe Somewhere Near Your Shirttail

Here is a little gem that figured into a couple of mixtapes a friend made me way back when mixtapes were actually tapes. I remembered the words and the exuberant strumming style, but I’ll be damned if I could ever have pulled the un-bluesman-like name of Doug Quattlebaum (“Have you met my accountant?”) out of long-term storage.

But with scant information I found this quickly on YouTube. It’s funny to think how hard-won this kind of musical knowledge used to be. Hours of haunting out-of-the-way record stores, cultivating a collection of fellow-traveler weirdos, keeping an ever expanding inventory of lusted-for albums ready to mind. You might even have to read a book or two to get up to speed. And the only way to hear these hidden treasures was to be within earshot of a physical copy of a recording.

I would have to say I prefer, no, vastly prefer being able to hear virtually anything I can think of on demand. But, and I know this is a commonplace sentiment, I’m certain I don’t appreciate the triumph of discovery, the revelation of finding something really superior nearly as much as when it was a demanding and sometimes expensive quest.

I Think I’m Depressed

I hate this time of year. I mean, just hate it.

For the past couple weeks I have just been depressed. Like, the kind of “Is this fucking it” depression. Nothing interests me, and I’m just bored and listless. The weather sucks, I’m bored, I’m lonely, there are just bills flying in from everywhere, the website is a trainwreck, the calendar needs to be done, there’s nothing to do outside, blah blah piss moan. I can’t get interested in any books, tv shows, games, or just anything.

I look at Thurston, and he’s looking back at me all beaming and happy and just worships me and I feel like a jerk because I’m thinking “I thought there would be more to it than this.” And no, I don’t need suggestions, or cheering up, or any of that crap, I’m just complaining. I’ll get over it or go talk to someone if I need to; I’m not afraid to ask for help. And no I am not going to drink or do something stupid.

Why can’t I have the depression where you lose interest in eating? Everything is bullshit.

I need to win the lottery so I can be rich and miserable.

One Positive Side Effect of Decades of Republican Fuckery

One of the best things about the young new crop of Democrats coming of age and hopefully sweeping into power is that they are of the age that NONE of them were alive in the mythical age of a functional congress. These kids, at their oldest, were teens during the Clinton years, so when Chris Matthews gets has a couple drinks before his show and starts bloviating about how Tip O’Neill and Reagan were best buds they look at him like he is talking about iceboxes, carbon copies, clickers, or other shit from when gram and gramps were kids.

All they have ever seen is Republican fuckery, from Clinton being impeached for a blowjob to the Brooks Brothers riot in 2000 throughout the entire Obama Presidency and now the reign of Prince Clusterfuck. They are under no fucking illusion that you can reach across the aisle and deal with these shitheads.

Hopefully they will come to town and just burn shit down. The Republicans only understand brute force. Let’s give them some.

Happy Friday

It’s 90000 degrees with 200% humidity, my pc blew up, and I think I am getting an ear infection. Going to go watch Jack Ryan on Amazon Prime and I just hope he kills a lot of people because that is how I feel.

Open Thread

It’s just a fucking avalanche of shit, isn’t it? I’ve started like five posts today on different wretched things that are happening and I just want to write EVERYTHING IS FUCKING AWFUL and say to hell with it.

Another Good Report from the Vet

Lily and I just got home from the vet, and the doctor is very pleased with her results, all the numbers are where they should be, she is back up finally to 18.5 lbs, her platelet count is still a touch high but dropping and we are now down to a 1/4 pill every other day of prednisone and will be done with it totally in two weeks, and they said she was playful and perkier than normal. Our customary post chemo front yard picture:

The ride was nice- still hot as hell but the skies were blue and the roads clear, and I listened to Section 80 on the way up and To Pimp a Butterfly on the way back, and stopped by Costco while Lily was being treated. I had to have words with a man at the vet hospital, though, so the trip wasn’t completely pleasant. Some large man (prolly two inchers taller than me with the same girth) who was easily in his late 50’s- had short white hair in a buzz cut, was getting a coffee at the coffee stand, and he turned around abruptly and bumped into a woman walking to the bathroom and spilled hot coffee on himself. She immediately apologized even though he was as much to blame or more, and then started bitching about “stupid fucking people” and cussing up a storm. I just blurted out “I’ll take stupid over loud and obnoxious,” and he sized me up and then simmered down. One of these days I’m going to get shot, but everyone else was just sitting there letting it happen. Home team needed a time out.

Just no reason for that kind of behavior. He knows he’s a large man and he was intentionally having a fit to intimidate that little woman. Made me think of Pink Floyd- “and it’s too late to lose the weight you used to need to throw around, so have a good drown, as you go down, all alone” which is ironically from the song Dogs.

At any rate, uneventful otherwise. Picked up a new hose to replace the one that broke the other day, and I’m going to take a nap until it cools down a little and go out and putz around the back yard.

Speaking of large, loud men, Ed Schultz has died at the age of 64.