OPENING SCENE: A patient is lying unconscious in a hospital ICU. The camera pans down to follow the plastic tubing from his catheter, flowing and bubbling bodiliy fluids into a plastic tank.
DR.HOUSE: "The drug addict . . . is peeing blood."
CUT SCENE: A med school class where Dr. House is lecturing. He looks at a handful of yellow crayons, chooses one and begins coloring in a coloring book.
DR.HOUSE: "How do they teach you to tell someone that they're dying?"
(Blank looks from students wearing white coats.)
DR.HOUSE: "It's kinda like teaching architects how to explain why their building fell down."
(Continues coloring book)
"Do you role play at stuff?"
STUDENT: "Yeah. One of us gives the bad news, and one of us gets the bad news."
DR.HOUSE: "What do you have to do to get an A in - You're Dying 101? Do they grade you on gentleness and supportiveness? Is there a scale for measuring compassion?"
(Changes crayons)
" This buddy of mine . . . I gotta give him ten bucks every time someone says thank you. Imagine that. This guy's so good, people thank him for telling them they're dying.
(Looks at crayon, exchanges it for another)
"It's brown . . . I don't get thanked that often."
CUT SCENE: House is standing at the patient's bedside.
DR.HOUSE: "You're dying."
(Patient shows concerned look)
DR.HOUSE: "In a few hours. There's nothing we can do except deal with the pain."
PATIENT: "Well, I need to go home."
DR.HOUSE: "You're not going home."
PATIENT: "But my dog . . . what will happen to my dog?"
CUT SCENE: Two Drs. Wilson and Cameron are doing an MRI.
DR.CAMERON: "Her neck looks clean . . . no adenoma."
CUT SCENE: Back to the classroom.
STUDENT: "Wait, wait, wait . . . the guy's dying and all he cares about is his dog?"
DR.HOUSE: "Any of you guys go the dog route in your . . . improv sessions?"
(Another student gives a quizzical look)
DR.HOUSE: "It's a basic truth of the human condition . . . that everybody lies. The only variable is about what. The hard thing about telling someone they're dying is that . . . it tends to focus their prioritites. You find out what matters to them. What they're willing to die for. WHAT THEY'RE WILLING TO LIE FOR.
Three years of law school, five years of government work, five years of corporate work, twenty years of self-employment, and the good doctor summarized it all in a YT video. You do know the character is based on detective Sherlock Holmes, don't you?
YOU'RE WELCOME.
I'd love to elaborate, but I have a lot of catching up to do, and a BIG trip to take this November. We're out of the golf headcovers game, so it's an economic reboot.
Also, I have a new handle on X : @Musical_Jurist ...
Stay tuned, fellow boomers, millenials, and genners X-Y-Z.
Just in case, herein below (stupid lawyers) is what I could scrape from the interwebs, the remains of my written, posted work from blog posts over the last, oh, say, 15 years. I will always contend that much deep thought went into these rants, some were even fully captured. These thoughts, framed by bits of time, have been fueled by one American citizen's concern -- for both ourselves and our posterity.
With my mother-in-law's funeral service coming next week, what I can honestly say is that I have done and what I have done here to express, despite the degrees of separation the internet creates, what I know to be true, good, and consistent.
In the words of Nathaniel Benchley, "Only Earth and Sky Last Forever."
I'm not trying to top "mean Tweets," because it is the Divine Comedy that keeps me laughing.
With all our years of accumulated experience, and purported wisdom, boomers like us may need to re-consider that in the eyes of our children, we are simply fools, who care too much to simply quit.
Consider this body of work ---
and remember ---
whether at age 65, or any age, we are always a work in progress.
/initialize Time Warp
[some links may be missing--- if so, they didn't die . . . they just faded away . . . ]
Not much is left of WGS, other than the internet way-back machine archives, which means some but not all of the internet, lasts forever.
Some of the internet just dies. Notwithstanding the grandiose experiment in literary expression and political polemic, I feel successful in having conducted my verbal excercise, working through variously apt sub-titles, patching together broken phrases, just to say: "Hey. Words mean things."
For example:
WGS -- "3 Things You Will Need For The End Times"
As it turns out, the reference to "End Times" was a bit melodramatic. Too early, perhaps?
Wittgenstein, get it?
Another sub-title was:
WGS - "A Golf Blog. Between Rounds"
And, frankly, it was that, first and foremost. But the work needed more, something more than the game of golf, which I love, but still, it required something more relevant to those with ears to hear.
I tried "You Have the Floor," and "Floor It." (above)
Nah.
Finally, I ended up with
WGS - "Too Old To Care. Too Young To Quit."
Ah, the sweet spot. Just the right sub-title. Explains just what I am doing, and why I do it.
Dad's death in 2011 was an actual apocalypse ... for me and for him.
And so ended WGS.
Yet my compulsion to write would not rest.
Writers write because their visions are their release.
I think, yes, in the long run, ultimately, writing is a process of self-editing. And every writer's raw material, the archetypes, the ideas, myths, their experience, and opinions, exist a priori. Then they are birthed for the world at large, for those with eyes to see.
Please, Sir, More Swill
Thus spake "English Swill."
My first resurrection as a content creator turned into something more polemical than WGS.
The Swill began publication late in 2011.
Concurrently, I was faced with the fact that the liberal stronghold of institutional learning were gaining influence in my personal life. I began writing with greater dismay, on topics related to my observations about 21st century American life, the stark differences between conservative and progressive politics, the rickety bridge between old and young, while trying to keep faith with humor, music, and yes, more golf. I spent years stirring digital swill with English words. It was decent.
"Wordsmithery -- At The Bottom Of The Barrel,"
By Christmas 2018, all my efforts to provide generational guidance crumbled under the sledgehammer of corporate media marketing and outright fraudulent deception (Hello, Congressman Schiff). I even tried to write rap lyrics, a vain effort to explain my thoughts about what constitutes proper American jurisprudence (damn you, Fox Network). Sadly, only (1) one post that was served from English Swill survived the corporate pogroms of the Trump years.
But it was one of my favorites, a classic rant on immigration policy.
Anyway, the Swill dried up because well ... you know ... the President spoke for millions, if not billions, of U.S. citizens.
Fast forward to 2022.
All over the globe, for the last 23 months, there's been only one pervasive topic: the COVID. With this third effort (second resurrection) - BOOMERS ANONYMOUS - I plan to go far beyond the political shills, their sketchy fuckery; beyond the vast, innumerable scams put forth by the mainstream grift, the purportedly authoritative, sources . . . on and offline.
If you are reading this, congratulations, you have ventured light years from the mainstream.
Together we sit perched and prayerful. It is the beginning of the end of Fauci's Folly, on the verge of 'the Great Awakening," or "the Great Reset," or "the Fourth Turning," or "the Quickening," or "the 5G rollout," "the Year of the Water Tiger," or even "Jewish New Year 5782," or just plain old 2022 C.E.
I personally have found my home ... in the shade of the freeway ... and have filled in most of the missing
colors in mine and my bride's paint-by-number dreams. Generational biases have been exposed. Becoming socially relevant is irrelevant to us.
It's Time To Own It, Boomers.
But persist. Keep runnin' down the dream, take off those dark sunglasses, and mow that lawn ... taste the wine. Frankly, my dear reader ... there still a giant load of stuff to share, a lot of worldly crap that needs a response, even if it comes off as ... back-of-the-cereal-box philosophy.
When the inter webs were born, some corporate media mogul said,
"Content is king."
What he forgot to remember was that the medium is still the message.
So.
Here we are.
Every Internet Post in the World
We're boomers. We've got decades worth of content. We've earned it.
This is OUR safe space, and your subscription seals the deal!
Share with other baby boomers. Share with an intelligent millennial or even an open minded Gen X'er, if that's not an oxymoron.
Everyone on the internet plus their Uncle Bob wants you to Like, Share, Comment, and Subscribe to their shit ... ads nauseaum.
(Spelling intended.)
I'm shamelessly asking you to do the same.
Don't think of it as Spam. Think of it as Corn Flakes and Milk.
And you may ask yourself, "Why should I follow your blog, 15ML?"