I knew it.....Dammit....I knew it......Oh....I'm over it....

You ever get the feeling that besides God, the Devil, the angels, the arch-angels and the demons that there is someone else up there that is in charge of messing up your days. For the purpose of this blog, I will call him Norman. Norman is not an angel. He does not have wings. He does not fly. He sits at a desk. He does not have a trumpet or a sword, he has a transistor radio and a pencil that is never sharp enough. He doesn't have horns but he does have horn-rimmed glasses. Norman is the day ruiner for Heaven, Hell and all stops in between. An other-worldly Comptroller, if you will. Norman does not like his position. He has never liked it. The problem is, no one will do it. The Heavenly representatives never want to do anything that could be construed as "not very nice." The Below-The-Earth contingency does not think that Norman's job is "bad" enough. So Norman is stuck. What is his purpose? What does the job-description read? Well, basically this.... If someone is having too many good days and too many good things happening, Norman needs to shake things up a bit. Send a bloody nose and a chafing problem to the fat guy. This way he can not only worry about his blood-pressure but he has to walk slowly and with a pronounced limp. See? Not enough to raise the eyebrows of the Satan-types but enough that the angels may feel kinda bad. Norman is the guy who sends the ants to the picnics. He opens the rain clouds on an important event that is non-religious and non-spiritual (i.e. weddings, sunrise services, funerals....these all fall under the God/Devil category). Norman gives you a cold sore the day before your first date with your dream woman/man or a big zit on your forehead the day of your Senior Prom. Got it? Harmless but hateful. Wrong but comical. Today, I hate Norman. I was cruising along....Got the cat.... Had a productive week.... Given some stuff to look VERY forward to.... And then Norman got a memo that I had too many good things going. The aforementioned fat guy with the bloody nose and chafing? Me. Also had a recently de-clawed cat spring a blood leak out of one of the sutures all over my shirt and the floor. This after he protested the shredded paper in the litter box (Doctor's orders!!!!) by crapping outside of the box, which is where? In my room. Yep. One of those days and I have Norman to thank. George Carlin once complained about people that always said "Have a nice day!" George believed that this was not right. Maybe he just had 63 nice days in a row and "By God, I am ready for a crappy day!!" Why doesn't anyone say that? "Have a crappy day!" Maybe if people did every now and then, Norman could take a little vacation. Get himself a Pina Colada and a shot of Tequila and get, the Hell, off my back! I am really making this sound worse than it was. It's all true, but what is also true is the fact that at the end of the day, my beautiful child and new feline friend (Hunter, by the way....I'll explain another time) posed for an awesome picture as they lay next to each other, ready for bed. It was touching. I was wiped clean of all of Norman's dirty work for that one, brief, shining moment. It was cool. Then I remembered that I am still excited about things to possibly come and that made me feel a lot better. All in all, Norman did his job. He ruined my streak of exceptional days. He will always get credit where credit is due. He'll just never get promoted. Thank God!

Virtue...smirtue....I hate waiting......

Hey, let me ask you a question. Yes, you. I gotta know. Have you ever known something or someone was coming to you and just couldn't wait? The thought of the arrival of the item or person consumed you so much that you could not eat, sleep or think straight. C'mon, you know you have felt this way. Let me try to help you remember or at least relate. Grandma. She visits once a year. She lives thousands of miles away and you only get to see her for the 2 weeks that she is here. Those two weeks are the most amazing, fun-filled, exciting times that your little 8 year old brain can possibly handle. She bakes you chocolate chip cookies. She bakes Apple Pies that are so good, you know you will never find their equal. She takes walks with you to the Thrifty Drug store to buy you ice cream cones (double chocolate malted crunch and butter pecan) even though her body is racked with Osteoporosis. She goes to your school and has lunch with you. She knits you an afghan of your school colors. You remember those times. If it wasn't your Grandma (as it was in my case if you have not figured it out yet) it was an aunt or uncle or cousin. You get the point. Now, think about the weeks prior to their arrival. You started to get excited. As the time wound down to a week, you could hardly contain yourself. Then you were down to mere days and you were literally bouncing off of the walls. The night before....you were totally incapable of sleeping. Even the Benadryl your mom spiked your milk with has no effect. You are wired. You are uncontrollable. But it is good. Eventually, your body craps out and you pass out. Only to wake up at the butt-crack of dawn ready and raring to get to the airport for the long-awaited reunion. Isn't that moment that you see them coming down the jet way worth everything? Even now, as you are reading this, aren't you feeling that all over again. I am. This is the kind of anticipation that I am talking about. Not convinced you know what I mean? Okay, try this. You go through ten boxes of Cocoa Krispies in just under two weeks so that you can collect enough box tops to send away for your very own Spider-Man decoder ring. After the nausea finally passes, you help mom address the envelope and walk it out to the mailbox knowing that in 6-8 weeks, you will finally be able to solve any mystery the world may throw at you. The first 4 weeks pass rather uneventfully. You have almost forgotten about it. Then Matt tells you he started collecting box tops and BAM!!! you remember that you have your ring coming soon. You rush home that day and check the mailbox. This ritual is repeated every day until the moment of truth arrives. You get your ring!!!! It does not matter that 3 hours from that moment, the ring will be put down and never touched again. What matters is that it was there. You waited. You did not die while waiting (as you thought you would 6 1/2 weeks ago). Now try to tell me you can't relate to that.... It's anticipation, man. Remember the saying Patience is a Virtue? Try telling that to an 8 year old waiting for Grandma or a 10 year old waiting for a decoder ring.... Or a 34 year old waiting for a special moment..... What am I waiting for? What has me so excited and worked up? I'm not telling. Ha ha. Suffice it to say, I cannot sleep.

"Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast..." - William Congreve

I realize that I spend a great deal of time and energy talking about music. Especially when you consider that I am not a musician. Well, not really. I played drums in Jr High and High School but that was just for getting the ladies.....Alright, no comments.... It was a joke. Anyway, yes, I do talk a great deal about music. As I have said before, there is a good reason for this. Music is such an integral part of my life. Whether it's Randy Travis belting out "He Walked on Water" that reminds me of my departed grandfather or the Barenaked Ladies singing "Pinch Me" that conjures up one of a very few good memories of my ex-wife and I. Dancing with Vivian in my arms just giggling and cooing as I spun them around, singing poorly. Music has a way of meaning so much. Not just particular songs. Any music. This is no more evident for me then when I am working. Many of you know I have been in the restaurant business for a great deal of time. In my latest position, I am in the kitchen quite often. Those of you familiar with the business know that the kitchen is a hard place to be. It is hot. Very hot. For a fat guy (like me), it can be unbearably hot. In addition to the heat, there is a great deal of pressure. Orders need to go out in a timely fashion, they need to be correct and more often than not, they need to be aesthetically pleasing. A lot of pressure. Most of the pressure falls on the shoulders of the "Wheel Man." This is the guy who co-ordinates everything. The timing, the precision and the aesthetics. He then must push the food out in the correct order. He also takes the complaints from the servers and floor managers and makes them right. So, the point of this is that I get to be that guy quite often. I have found that it is essential for me to have music to do this job correctly. Yes, I said that right. I need music to assist me in co-ordinating all of these things. I am one of those rare people who finds that tasks involving a great deal of concentration are actually performed better with a musical distraction. I am almost RainMan-like about it. Yeah... gotta have my music...Yeah... K-mart sucks.... Tonight, for instance, I was pushing out a party of 40 and right in the middle of it, with Meatloaf's "Paradise By The Dashboard Light" (which I had requested earlier, I am such a geek, thank you 98.7 the Peak) playing in the background, some HEATHEN pulled the plug on my music. I stopped. Dead in my tracks. I did not know what to do or say. I stopped what I was doing. I was not going to push out the remaining 20+ meals without my Meatloaf. Someone in the crowd, opposite of me, recognized this and quickly plugged the music back in. The rest of the food went out and all was well. Music has charms that can sooth the savage breast. Yes, it is breast not beast. This is one of the most frequently misquoted quotes. It is really breast. I think breast is appropo. Don't you? You know what? I had a lot more to write on this. I will continue many of these thoughts in another blog. In another time. Right now, a song has influenced me in another fashion. I just got through listening to "18th Floor Balcony" by Blue October. Heard it? Amazing. It takes me to a place that I am, frankly, not comfortable discussing with y'all. A very special place. A very happy place. A happy place indeed. I cannot continue. I am too emotional right now. It's a good thing though. It drives my point home, yet again. Music is amazing. It soothed my savage breast TWICE tonight. That is a feat not accomplished by mere mortals. Only music.

"I wuz wookin' pa nub in all da wong paces, wookin' pa nub..." -Buckwheat

So, there was a bulletin posted on my Myspace in the last couple of days. It was one of those surveys that we are all so very excited to participate in. Especially when someone tells us we have to or some extremity is going to fall off. I don't usually do them. I do like to read them, though. It's the voyeur in me. Oh, who am I kidding. We all like to read them for that very reason. Aren't we all voyeurs in one way or another? I digress. Don't keep letting me do that. Back on task. So I was reading the questions and answers on this one and as usual, I was answering them in my head as well. I suddenly stopped though. I could not believe how much this question stumped me. I know I have been asked this question a thousand times but I don't think I ever really answered it. I think I always had some canned answer that would appease the asker and we'd move on. As I sat alone, with no one to judge my answer, I actually thought about it. Guess you want to know what the question was, huh? "Do you believe in TRUE LOVE?" Now, I know what y'all are thinking. It's the same thing I thought at first.... Well, yeah....I believe in true love.....That's when the stumping happened. Do I really? Do I really believe in the fairy tale idea of true love? Do I really picture Wesley and Buttercup on that mountain top in Princess Bride when she pushes the Man in Black down the hill and as he is tumbling head over heels and yelling "AS YOU WIIIIIISH" she realizes it's Wesley and jumps after him? Is that real? Or am I like Miracle Max from the aforementioned movie who believes that a nice Mutton, Lettuce and Tomato sandwich is just as good as true love? Am I like Berowne from Love's Labor's Lost who spends his whole life chastising lovers and people in love only to find himself mesmerized by "among three, the worst of all....a whitely wanton with a....velvet brow, with two pitch balls stuck in her face....for eyes." Which is it? What category do I belong in. I have always said, yes. Plain and simple. It is possible. So, why am I single. Isn't 34 years enough time to wait for it? If it were the middle ages, I would be an old man. Life expectancy back then was about 30, so if I did not have "true love" by this point, I would be S.O.L. Of course, they also had no sewers below the ground back then. They were all above ground and ran right through the middle of town. That might explain the short lives.....Digressing again...... Back to me being single. I wondered, am I single because I have not found true love or do I know my true love but I am just not with them? Deep, huh? Wanna go deeper (Oooooo that did not sound good....)? Wanna delve deeper into it than that (that sounds better)? Is your "soul mate" the same as your "true love?" Is the person with whom your soul is intertwined so deeply with that you will be together on the other side the same person you are destined to be with on this side? Is it? C'mon Mr/Miss Know -It - All.... Tell me. I really need to know. It's kind of important. This is where I went when I read the question. Are you there with me? Do you remember in The Princess Bride when Wesley could not die because he had true love? He was only "mostly dead." Remember how Buttercup was going to kill herself when she thought that Wesley was dead? Hang on....That just might be it.... We have all heard the stories of the couples who have been together for so many years that when one of them died, the other went in a matter of a few months. Not wanting to live without their true love. They just gave up. They died of a broken heart. This happens with couples who have not been together for that long. I know this. It happened in my family. Some non-believers said that there were explainable medical reasons why she died so soon after her husband but if you ask her brother, she died of a broken heart. Plain and simple. We miss you Michelle. I think that's it. I think I have the answer. I do believe in true love. I believe it is the love between two people that exists as long as the two people are here on earth. Doesn't matter if they are together all of the time. It just matters that they are here. On this big green floating ball in the sky. The thought of them not being here ever again is too much for the other to live with. They cannot continue on. Shakespeare wrote a whole play about this kind of love. You know which one? Remember the "star-crossed lovers?" Romeo and Juliet. Romeo says to himself, "...see how she leans her cheek upon her hand? Oh, that I were a glove on that hand that I might touch that cheek..." That is love, folks. Deep love. Do you have it?

"I don't care if he's Bohemian, it's still the Damn Cat!" -Don Jones

Well, it's done. The cat was taken to the vet today to get neutered and de-clawed. Just the front claws. It is a male cat. He weighs 6.5 lbs and is approx. 6 1/2 months. Now I know that some of you may be saying..."Back the heck up.... Cat??!!! Brad Jones with a cat?" I know. Sounds weird. Some of you may remember that I had a cat for a short period of time when I was nineteen and first on my own. Remember Abe? The deaf cat? Man, he was a trip. He was the cat that was hurled across the room one very drunken evening. He was okay. Wouldn't talk to me for a week, but he did land on his feet...... Those were different times. I had a lot of anger inside of me back then and the six 33oz mugs of Coors Light and 4 shots of Goldschlager did not help with the anger. There is no anger now. Really.... Not too much anyway. There is no alcohol this time at all. I think I am ready. In fact, I know I am. I have to be. This cat was a gift. Uh oh, here he goes again....That's right folks. I am about to shock you with a little more spirituality. This cat was a gift from my higher power (I am choosing to go with higher power as opposed to God so as not to put some of you into complete cardiac arrest but I know it was God). We have all experienced the odd stray cat that seeks out attention as we walk through our neighborhoods. They usually stay around for a pat on the back and a rub against the leg but then they are off. Satisfied that they have done their job. Done what they are paid to do. Amuse the human. This cat was different. He stayed with me through the rain, another cat and a quarter mile of walking. When he got to the house, he walked in as though he owned the place, plopped down and has not left since. So what makes me think that this is a gift from Him? I just know. You have to take my word for it. I guess I could expound a little..... There have been several times in my life that I have struggled with the existence of a higher power. Many times I have found myself wondering why He has forsaken me. For reasons I am not going to mention, I was at one of those places recently. Not too long after I find myself asking for some sort of proof or some kind of sign, here comes this cat. To me. I fell in love instantly. I find myself missing him right now as I type. Attacking my feet or curling up behind me on this computer chair. This emotion after just a few days. You gonna tell me that is not a sign? Vivian is not with me all of the time. When she is not with me, I feel like a part of me is missing.... This cat has helped, in just a few short days, to fill that void. Not completely. That will never happen. He sure makes it easier. I know this is a sign because I am constantly reminded of the story about God and his love in the story of the Footprints in the Sand. You all know it. The man who dreams that he has died and is walking along the beach with Jesus. Watching scenes of his life passing by he notices there are two sets of Footprints in the Sand. Except, during the hard times, he sees only one set. He asks Jesus, "Why is there only one set of footprints at some points? They seem to be at the points in my life when things were at their worst. Why did You abandon me then? Did you not say that if I loved You and believed in You that You would always be there for me?" Jesus simply replied, "My son, that is when I carried you." Gives me chills just writing it. My twist to the story will be this though.... When it's my turn to walk along that beach with Jesus, I will look at the footprints and see three sets from this point on. Me, Jesus and the Damn Cat. When there are 2 sets, I know it will be the cat and Jesus. I hope he's been working out, though....

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends" John 15:13

What is this????? The celebrated agnostic using a biblical quote as his title? Hang on a second, I never said I was agnostic. Much like Spencer Tracy in Inherit the Wind, I am a firm believer that religion and agnosticism can peacefully coexist. I know....How? Never mind, this is not about religion. It is not about agnostics or even about me. It is about friends. The quote is from the Bible but it was made very famous by Rudyard Kipling in his popular book, The Jungle Book. Bagheera the panther tells Mowgli this very quote as Baloo lays there, dead. Killed while protecting Mowgli. Well, we know that Baloo is not dead. It does not change the sentiment, though. Is there a love greater than the willingness to lay down your life for a freind? Think abot this for a minute. I mean it!!!! Think about it. There is a gunman standing in front of you and he IS going to kill you or your friend. Do you say, "Kill me. I am single and have no one. He is married with kids and a huge family. He deserves to live. Take me." Or the other way, " Kill me. He is single. He has never had the pleasure of being a parent. He has never experienced the love of a wife. Let him live so that he may see how great these things are. I have them. I will miss them but I had my turn." Would you do one of these? Would you lay down your life for a friend? I guess we need to define what a friend is. For some of you. For me, a friend is anyone that is in my life that is not related to me. It is a given that I would lay down my life for anyone that I am related to. If you know me, you know that is hard for me to say but that it is true. If you know me at all, you also know that I am serious about my definition of friend. ANYONE that is in my life. Yes, there are some friends that mean a great deal more to me than others. Yes, there are those that I keep closer than many others. That does not take away the importance of another person's life to me. Yes, I value my life. Yes, being killed would seriously put a damper on my dreams of watching Vivian graduate from college. I think it may even strain my relationship with my parents if I up and died. The truth is though, they could all always remember that I died for something I believed in. I died so that a friend could live. According to the Bible, that is the greatest kind of love there is. The Bible, people!!!! Do you need a higher authority? I think not. There are those that might say to me, "What if your friends don't feel the same about you?" What kind of question is that? What difference does it make? How they feel about me is not what I will be thinking about in a life or death situation. I will only be thinking of all of the things they did to make my life better in one way or another. Maybe it was a smile everytime they saw me. Maybe it was the memories of certain events or times that we shared. Maybe it was the secrets we kept together that they never told anyone about. Maybe it was their love of their children that tought me how to love. Maybe it was the way their eyes would almost see right through me every time I looked into them. Maybe it was the support they showed when everyone else said I shouldn't do something. Maybe it was the fact that they were there for me when I needed a shoulder. The list of things that my friends have done for me is endless. In a life or death situation, this is what I would be thinking. I would not be concerning myself with what they are thinking. I would merely be thinking of what they mean to me. That's everything. My friends mean everything to me. So, to my friends, Lean on Me, when you're not strong. You can always Stand By Me, because That's What Friends Are For. I hope you all know, You've Got a Friend in Me. Always. Thank you, all.

A lond day's journey....oh never mind...

I want you to take a journey with me. This is a journey that will take you back a few years. I am taking you with me for two reasons. Number one, I am truly interested in what others feel about the trip. I want to know how you feel. The second reason is so that I can cleanse or at least sort out some of these random thoughts and feelings that are exploding in my head. This is not a social experiment. I am not really searching for any kind of data. No hard numbers....Heh heh.. I said hard.... Dammit. Where did that come from? I am trying to be serious here!! Heh heh.... I said come....Moving on.... This is just a journey that I am choosing not to take alone in a proverbial sense. I want you to come with me? Wanna join? Let's go.... Back in time..... You are now in High School, Junior High, Middle School, or, for you early bloomers, Elementary School. I want you to project yourself to the exact year that you first kissed a member of the opposite sex in a manner that was both welcomed and enjoyed by both parties. Ladies, you know why I say it like that because of the boys who would force themselves on you at the roller rink when you were skating backwards and their friends were watching. Guys, you know I say it that way because of all of those cramped nervous times you were forced into a closet for "seven minutes in heaven" when you just wanted to tp someone's house. I am not talking about those scenarios. Or any other where both parties were not totally "into" it. I am talking about your all important first kiss. The one you thought about every day. The one you practiced on your pillow for. The one you knew would come, you just never knew when. Think about that one. Think about the day it happened. What grade you were in? Who it was with? What were you wearing? What were they wearing? Was it before/after/during school? On a weekend? Were you totally nervous or did you remain calm? Did you shake? Are you shaking now? I am. Literally trembling. Just thinking about it makes me shake like a leaf on a tree. I don't want a ton of responses that answer all of the above questions. Just want to see if you are shaking too. What is it that makes the first kiss such an amazing event in our lives? Did you feel the same when you lost your innocence? I say it like this because I think there is a difference between "innocence" and "virginity." Stay with me. I remember the first boobie I touched. Not brushed pass accidentally on purpose. Not grabbed in a wrestling match for a note that was note supposed to be read by a boy. I mean permission granted touching. Same goes for other naughty bits. This kind of playing is what I consider loss of innocence. Virginity is pretty self-explanatory. Do you shake when you think of either of these? Better yet, do you shake as much? I am still shaking simply because I am still excited about the kiss. The other things seemed less important to me. They were great, do not get me wrong. I was excited. I enjoyed them trememdously but I am not shaking because of them at this very minute. Nope. It was the kiss. Where does that feeling go? The feeling that causes you to shake. Did you get it when you met the person you are currently with be it wife, husband, boyfriend, girlfriend, friend with benefits, lover, mistress, mist....hey, what is the male equivalent to mistress? Never mind. You understand what I am asking. Honestly, truly and with fear of retribution if you are lying, did you feel the exact same way when you first kissed the one you are with? Did you ever get that feeling again? At any point in your life. I have. I mean it!!! There was one person that made me feel that very same way when our lips met. The thought of that kiss is making me shake all over again. Just as much as when I think about the first kiss. I hope that some day, I can feel it again. I can tell you this much, I will not waste my time with another person of the fairer sex if I don't get that feeling on the first kiss. I have to have it. Will I be waiting a long time? I am prepared to. I have to. It is only then that I will know that it is right. Okay, journey is over. Back to reality. Hope I was a good guide. Thank you for humoring me. I need it every now and then.

I dig old movies....

There was a movie that came out in 1955 called Love is a Many Splendored Thing. Great movie. Alas, this blog is not about the movie. It is about the title. This blog is going to be about a few movie titles and what they mean to me. Before I go off on one of my tangents, let's discuss this first one. This concept of love being a many splendored thing. The dictionary has splendor as "brilliant, full of light and brightness.... yadda yadda..." Speaking of dictionaries, did you know that the word spleen can also mean "malice or full of avarice?" I had no idea. So, instead of saying that someone did something out of meanness, we can say they did it out of spleenness? You are a spleenful person? That was really spleen? Wow, I am totally going to start using that stuff.....Oh sorry..... Where was I? Oh yeah, splendored. So, according to this movie/song title, love is brilliant. Love is full of brightness and light. You know, I had something really cynical and quite pathetic to say but I just changed my mind. I was just about to go off on how dark and dull love is. How difficult it is to deal with and how empty it leaves you. I really was. I just changed my mind as I was typing. "What a Good Boy" by the Barenaked Ladies just came on. If you have read any of my MySpace blogs, you know that I love this song. It is an amazing song that sends chills down my spine and causes me to gush tears every time I hear it. It came on just as I was getting ready to spew forth disdain for the one emotion that is now filling me with Brightness. Brilliance. Yeah, love can hurt. So does falling down. It's part of life. You learn to move on when love dies. Just like we learn to move on when someone or something close to us dies. What fills love with it's splendor is the fact that you know when you have it. It's the greatest feeling in the world. I find myself almost speechless at this very moment. I know, hard to believe. I mean it. I do not know what else to say about love. Only that I have had it. I have it. I will always have it. Next movie title. I would be remiss in any discussion of movie titles if I did not mention Inherit the Wind. Not only is this a great movie title, it is my all-time favorite movie. The title actually comes from the Bible. "He that troubleth his own house, shall inherit the wind." Proverbs 11:29. It has always blown me away how a movie that is wrought with individuality, agnosticism, evolutionary principles would have a biblical quote for it's title. That, my friends is the genius. One of the things I loved about the movie so much is the fact that it preached (no pun intended) the need for everyone on both sides of the issues to learn to come together. The famous last scene with Spencer Tracy standing in the courtroom, Bible in one hand, Origin of Species in the other. Slams them together, tucks them under his arm and walks out the door alone. Symbolism. Irony. That is what makes the title so damn good. Symbolism. Irony. Speaking of irony, remember that Alanis Morrisette song "Ironic?" There is a line in there that I am thinking about right now..... Never mind. Inside thought. Went back to that whole love thing. I can't seem to shake it. I have never been that moved by an emotion while writing before. It has really messed me up. In a good way...I honestly don't think I can go on. I need a good cry. Well, not really. That did not sound very manly. What I meant was, I need to go hit something. Something soft. Not an angry hit. Not at all. There is no anger in me right now. Only Love.

As I was on my way to Vivian's open house this evening, a truck passed me on the freeway at a high rate of speed. Now, when I say a truck, I do not mean a Ford Ranger or some other light truck. I am not even referring to something larger like a Chevy Silverado..... I am referring to what Vivian calls a "monster truck." I grew up knowing a monster truck to be Bigfoot or something of the like. What passed me on the freeway was not Bigfoot or even really close to be honest, but it was big. The tires were about as tall as I am. This truck did not just have a lift kit, it had it's own FAA number. As this truck passed me, the first words out of my mouth were, "Well, he is obviously compensating for a small penis." We all think that don't we? Am I alone in this? I think not. We all assume that the drivers of these vehicles feel like they need to make up for SOMETHING so we automatically go to the penis since it is an extension of manliness...Right? It is, right? That's what I have heard and I always assumed that is why some people accused me of being gay.....Joking....Really.....I am all man, dammit. Back to the topic. This truck had no sooner passed me that I noticed his license plate. It was a personalized plate (go figure) but I was shocked and very amused when I saw what it said.... COMPNS8. That's right folks. It was the word "compensate" in license plate short form. How freaking funny is that? Here is a guy (or girl but probably a guy since the driver was a guy) who is so self-aware that he put on his plate what he knows we are all thinking when we see that behemoth of a truck. I laughed my ass off for the next mile or two and it got me to thinking.... What happened to the art of self-deprecation? Putting ourselves down before others can do it. I am not talking about lowering our self -images by pointing out our faults. I am talking about pointing out the obvious problems with ourselves that we are fully aware of and have no intention of changing. Jack Benny was a master at this. He portrayed a cheapskate. It is well known that in real life he was not but on his TV show he was a staunch cheapskate and damn proud of it. Who can forget the classic scene where he was approached by a mugger and told "You're money of your life!!!!" and there was this long pause.....The mugger repeated himself, "You're money or your...." and he was interrupted by Jack Benny who yelled, "I'm thinking!!!!!" Classic example of self deprecation. Think abou the stand-up comedians, John Pinnette or Ralphie May. These guys are on the hefty side. Okay, they are massive. They both spend most of their routines talking about their enormous girth and yet I have heard people say they don't like these guys because all they talk about is being fat. EXCUSE ME????? What would you like these very funny men to discuss? Yeast infections and the annoying itch that accompanies them? How ridiculously stupid have we become as a society? It is no longer okay to talk about our own problems in a humorous manner? I know why.... We might offend someone. There might be a fat guy in the audience who takes personal offense to John Pinnette bitching about his chafing problems. We are too sensitive!!!! Way too sensitive. We spend so much time worrying about what might offend someone that we have forgotten to take a step back and just enjoy the show. Am I encouraging people to go out and make fun of fat people? No. Do I think it's okay to berate ugly people because they are ugly? Not at all. What we need is for the fat people to accept that they are fat and unless they are going to do something about it, they need to lighten up. I am saying that ugly people need to grow a pair and poke fun at the fact that they are ugly before some 5 year old walks by and starts crying when they look at their face. It happens. We are all different. We all have our short-comings..... Speaking of short-comings, back to the guy in the truck. My hat is off to you Mr. Small Penis-Big Truck guy. You are a Real American Hero in my book. Have a BudLight on me.......