Category: My stories

They say that life is what happens between cradle to grave.
But what happens when you put a baby in a cradle and drop it in a grave.
So, we set up an experiment.
We built a cradle, babysat a neighbor’s baby, and then put the baby in the cradle.
Then we dug a grave and tossed the cradle into the grave.
While the baby was still in it.
The results were as expected: the baby cried loudly.
Then, after a while, the baby stopped crying.
Thankfully, because it was asleep, not dead.
Or we wouldn’t get paid for babysitting.

Shang-Li was dropped off at the temple when he was three, and was trained day and nights in the art of Shao-Lin by the monks.
“If you can snatch the pebble from my hand, it will be time to go,” said the master.
Shang-Li failed to snatch the pebble for years.
Longer than any other student.
In all that time, he mastered spears and hand-to-hand-combat and stealth and pretty much every other skill.
But snatching the pebble?
Nope.
Eventually, the master left his hand open, and Shang-Li was forced to take the pebble.
“It’s a stupid test anyway,” he said.

During one of my recent walks, I saw a car plastered with multiple anti-Semitic messages that were in support of Kanye West’s rants.
Jews own 90% of the media.
Jews hate America.
Jews control the economy.
That sort of shit.
Since I was a child, I’ve known there’s sick and ignorant people in this world.
And there’s nothing you can do to fix them.
I haven’t seen it since.
Maybe they tore off the messages.
Maybe they were visiting a friend.
Maybe they got towed away for their expired registration, which I called the parking lot tow truck number about.

I’m no stranger to the taste of blood in my mouth.
I had braces when I was a kid, metal ones.
With exposed wires.
My brother got wax to put over his braces to protect his cheeks and lips.
But I didn’t.
I had to take candles from the dining room cabinet and melt them down into protectors.
Which didn’t help much when my brother was punching me in the face.
Or telling his friends to.
When the braces came off, I wanted to melt them down into a knife.
And stab every one of those fuckers in the face.

Dana rode the bus to work and back, so to pass the time, she’d listen to music and she took up knitting.
She started small, knitting socks for the homeless people on the bus.
Then she knitted scarves.
And then she knitted them some warm hats.
After that, she knitted blankets and sweaters.
Then, she knitted homes for them.
Knitting furniture and appliances to put in the homes.
Some asked her to knit booze and drugs for them.
With some reservations, she did.
A few went too far into alcoholism or drug abuse and died.
For them, she’d knit coffins.

Thank you to all you followers.
I follow some of y’all back. The things I find interesting. Or inspiring.
Some of y’all are recent. Some of y’all are longtimers.
Some of y’all left the platform long ago. And maybe even this life.
I hope you have found peace, whatever your y’all is.
Some people follow-spam and like-spam to get their name out there.
It’s okay. How they play it.
It’s like everyone in a public park.
You can use the grass for jogging, yoga, touch football, a picnic.
As long as the person walking their dog picks up after, right?

I made the mistake of buying the free month trial of LinkedIn Premium, and now instead of getting a sprinkling of anonymous people viewing my profile, I get a torrent of anonymized people viewing my profile.
Me, I don’t hide my profile. If I look around, I look around.
And I will message them more often than not, just to tip the hat or a good morning or just something to brighten their day (or darken their doorstep).
And I do hope they’re doing well.
If they’re not, I hope they do what they need to make it well again.

A burger is a burger, right?
If I want no mayo on a burger and the chef slops mayo all over it, should I scrape it off? Throw it out? Throw it in the chef’s face and yell WHAT THE FUCK DOES NO MAYO MEAN, FUCKER?
Some places make you pay first because they want to make it a hassle to get a refund or a redo when they screw up.
And some take pride in their work and only ask you to pay when you’re done.
I think that’s worth paying someone something extra to bring it to you.

Thomas Edison didn’t invent the light bulb.
Instead, he and his staff performed thousands of experiments with different filaments to determine the most efficient, cost-effective, and longest-lasting filament he could use.
He went through all those thousands of experiments, looking for something simple, cheap, and effective.
I wonder about those thousands of failures.
Did he just grab anything and try it?
A piece of bacon from breakfast? Hair from his head?
His wife’s dildos?
As some point, he must have been tearing out his hair, ripping up his shirt.
And that’s where the carbonized cotton filament came from, right?

I’m sure you’ve heard Melvin Tune’s songs. The man is a wizard with words.
The songs, they’re played all over the world.
Those familiar instrumental ditties that accompany your stroll through grocery stores, elevator rides, and journey around other places that play ambient background music.
For some reason, composers ask Melvin for lyrics to their compositions, he scribbles up a few pages, and hands them over.
The composer tweaks their song, turning it from good to great.
And then, they record it… and when they remove the lyric tracks, it’s just… well…
It’s just perfection.
And Melvin cashes the checks.