So far, I'm surviving the Doom that marches across our lands, indiscriminately culling our herd. It hasn't reared its ugly head, anywhere, near my house, yet. Not to my knowledge, anyway. That doesn't mean I haven't felt its presence.
As of midnight, yesterday, all "nonessential" business activities were told to shut down. That included the cigar shop I frequent. I count that as an essential business. Who wouldn't? Those establishments provide a much, needed service, for me, anyway. Liquor stores get to stay open in the face of Doom, but my cigar shop had to close its doors! Where's the fairness in that? All I can say, it's a good thing I filled both of my humidors and have a supply that should last me a month or more.
Smoking is part of my creative process. In fact, I'm puffing on a stogie, intermittently, between strokes of my pen. What's next? Will soda companies be told to stop bottling their syrupy sweetness? They could tell the drug companies to shut down, and as a diabetic, that would be annoying, for sure, but don't take away my stogies and soda! Now, this shit is beginning to get serious!
Since my last post, Doom has caused a widespread panic among those living in my town. People, who are normally, rational beings, have been transformed into hoarding zombies. Yes, you read that right, HOARDING ZOMBIES!
They shamble around and grab everything that ain't nailed down, even if they don't need it. I've heard tale of many within this zombie hoard, who have enough water, rice, and toilet paper for the next eight or nine months, and they still crave more. Doom hasn't even come to town, and the fear it casts, like a long shadow, has created this zombie hoard. What will happen when Doom does finally step onto main street? Oh, the horror of it all!
Speaking of toilet paper, this particular breed of zombie craves this product above all others. You can see it in their eyes. You can almost sense it in every movement they make. Just the other day, two of them were at opposite ends of a store aisle, where the last roll sat upon a mostly-empty shelf in the middle of the row. The pair of zombies were exhausted, but in the face of the last toilet paper on the face of the Earth, they managed to kick it into overdrive. Within the blink of an eye, they went from a shamble to a trot. I've learned to stay clear of such nonsense, so fear not, I didn't get caught in the melee.
The zombie, who made it to the prize first, was so pleased with himself, he just about did a jig in the middle of the supermarket, then returned to a shambling rate of speed. On the other hand, the other one, she looked dejected, even cheated. You could see it in her eyes. That roll should've been hers. Other zombies started to take notice, there was toilet paper on the line. Just when I thought a toilet paper riot would break out, all of the zombies resumed their listless state. Thank goodness, this breed of zombie are hoarders, not fighters!
I wonder, why the sudden need for toilet paper? We all have one ass, right? Perhaps, once this strain of zombie takes hold of you, a second ass comes forth. That would explain their slow speed. I don't know about you, but a second ass would certainly slow me down. I'll have to do a daily check to make sure another tailpipe hasn't formed. No, not enough, not nearly. I'll do a thrice-daily check, for good measure. I recommend all of you do the same. Why hasn't the WHO or CDC informed us of this revelation?
I can't say as I've told you everything there is to know about the Doom that threatens the very existence of our civilization. Events are too fluid and constantly evolving. What I can vouch for is, you now know the rest of the story as it stands for the moment. Be safe and keep it dark, with your shades pulled way down, because The Light is aiding and abetting Doom. Good night, and good luck!
They do say, "Truth is stranger than fiction," and how recent events have unfolded, they made a believer out of me. A couple of weeks ago, when I woke up and turned the radio, next to my bed, on, if I didn't know better, I would've swore I was in one of them zombie apocalypse movies. You know the kind that begins with a pandemic virus gone amok. Everyone gets infected by this epidemic, and then the zombie comes out of everybody!
My first thought was everybody was talking about a bad batch of awful beer that had hit store shelves and made a bunch of people sick. I thought it strange, but chocked it up to some nonsense the media had concocted to push lackluster ratings up. Frankly, I didn't think much of it at all. Anyone dumb enough to drink a beer so bad, you have to add a lime to it to make it drinkable, kind of deserves what they get. Anyway, I went about my business as usual, unaware of how mad the world had actually gone.
As the day went on, people kept blathering on about this Corona Virus. Eventually, I caught on to the gist of the issue. It wasn't about the beer, as I had thought at first blush, but a new type of flu virus, going around the world like that fruitcake in the tin, nobody wants. The world had indeed gone mad and on a level I previously never would've thought possible.
I understand nobody wants the flu because I, for one, certainly don't like being sick. So, I do appreciate the fact nobody wants another strain of the flu roaming our countryside. What I can't wrap my head around is, why all the hysteria over what amounts to another variety of the flu?
Store shelves, across the country, are being drained of all manner of staples, as people scramble to prepare for the worst. Are they stocking up in anticipation of the end of days? The way people are talking, I wouldn't count that possibility out just yet!
The stock market keeps declining with every word from business leaders about the "dire consequences this virus has wreaked upon the global economy." Billions of dollars are being dedicated by the federal government to contend with this so-called, crisis. Congress actually passed a bill for this purpose. I never heard of such an extravagant amount of money being spent on the flu or the common cold, but the Corona Virus gets billions spent on it. Go figure.
The media's part, in what would be a comedy, if it wasn't so tragic, is so obviously transparent. All media outlets have twenty-four hours of air-time to fill. Higher ratings means more money, a no-brainer. The public has grown bored of hearing the same diatribe against The President, and the Democrats have turned their primary process into a snoozer. Then, along comes the Corona Virus, with all of the possibilities to boost ratings by getting the public to pay attention once more. Shame on these charlatans!
History is full of examples of ordinary people being hoodwinked by unscrupulous headlines. It's hard not to think of the newsmen, who write the copy the anchors read to the public, as mustache-twirling villains, concocting their villainous schemes behind the security of their desks and computers. Ordinary people don't know any better, and they're naive enough to believe their local news. So, it's hard to blame those folks, but those, who should know better than to fall prey to media-created hysteria, are far from blameless.
Our business, political, and scientific leaders should be able to see the dog and pony show for what it is, abject nonsense that wouldn't pass muster as the plot of a horror novel. At least, nobody would confuse the novel for reality. I led with truth is stranger than fiction, and this is why. The Corona Virus hysteria has become the next thing to fear. First, the weather became something to cause panic. Every time a drop of rain or snowflake fell, folks looked to the weatherman to tell them what to do. Preposterous, but unfortunately, true. Now, people are running around like chickens with their heads cut off, yelling, "Hide in your homes, the Corona Virus is coming for all of us!"
We were once a proud nation with a can-do attitude. Back in those days, weather didn't cause us to blanch. When two feet of snow fell, you just shoveled it out of your dooryard and went on your merry way. Now, we're afraid of what amounts to another strain of the flu. Anyone who puts it in these terms is either looked at with disdain or as if they're the crazy ones. Oh, when the mighty fall from on high, is there any way for them to regain their lofty position? If George M and Hunter Thompson had been able to collaborate, the chorus they would've come up with to underscore the absurdity of our times, "There is fear and loathing, fear and loathing, in River City!"
I suppose, now that you know the rest of the story, from my perspective, anyway, I leave it to each of you to determine whether I'm the nutty one, for I may very well be bat-shit crazy, or that there's nothing to fear but fear itself. Whatever side of the line you may fall, until we meet again, keep it dark and keep it real!
Days are getting longer by the minute. Moonlight is becoming more and more scarce by the same measure. For those of us, who do our best work within The Night's gentle embrace, the supply of hours we have to do our thing are getting harder and harder to come by.
They tell us not to go gently into The Night. From birth, society ingrains, or more aptly, beats that thought into us. Most activity occurs during daytime hours. Not a mere coincidence. You don't believe me? Then, try doing any important business at midnight, and you'll get a quick education on what our culture thinks about that notion. Nine to five is not up for discussion, and negotiation is right out!
The Night has gotten a bad rap. Ask any Joe off the street what he thinks about living from dusk to dawn, and by the look on his face, you'd swear you just showed him the face of Death, or maybe he thinks you're a vampire in search of a meal. All of us in the know realize this connection is preposterous, but for some inexplicable reason, Death has been associated with darkness. We also know vampires don't drink blood. That propaganda was created and is perpetuated by uneducated mortals, who can't seem to wrap their little heads around the simple facts, sugar is what sustains life, and by no means is blood a substitute for the sweet, succulent substance.
Most people do their utmost to keep The Night at arm's length. Every light bulb in every fixture of every room, within the tiny boxes, each of these misguided folk call home, burn bright, and do so before the light of day has even surrendered to The Night. This phenomenon goes on, until the very moment these misbegotten people call it a day. How much light does one actually need to see?
These insults to darkness are not only a waste of precious energy, but do nothing to attain their intended purposes. It is irrational to think you can ward off Death, darkness, or vampires with the flip of a switch. When these things come knocking, answering the door is an imperative, not a choice to be made like deciding which pair of socks to wear. Oh, the quaint notions day walkers embrace!
Oddly enough, I don't feel dejected about the shortening of my working hours. Maybe I'm making one helluva jug of lemonade with the lemons Mother Nature has handed me, or perhaps, I've learned to flip the switch and accept seasonal changes. After all, fighting the inevitable is a waste of effort, which could be channeled to more productive avenues. Creating more of my works of art and drinking obscene amounts of lemonade, while puffing gently on one of my harsh-tasting cigars, are much better endeavors than brooding and wishing for the impossible to drop into my lap.
As a diabetic, I know I shouldn't drink as much lemonade or soda as I do, or at least choose beverages with much less sugar than I prefer. I am a firm believer you can never have too much sugar, and sugar substitutes definitely don't make the cut. Who ever heard of a diabetic vampire, anyway?
Mother Nature has one twisted sense of humor. She must realize sugar is the vampire's preferred food group. Probably doesn't give two shits about our convenience. I suppose that's all part of the joke. In a New York Minute, I'd flip the switch on her decision to give me diabetes and go back to business as usual, not worrying about the consequences of my sugar consumption. If only Reality was as malleable and as kind as the fantasy worlds, within which I spend my nights. Reality is a bitch, and Mother Nature is her vulgar handmaiden!
Flipping the switch is a mindset, a way of perceiving the world around us from a different point of view. It involves changing our focus, rather than our surroundings. The beauty of this mindset is its simplicity. Because the change happens in our minds, flipping the switch is within our control.
Instead of whining about what you can't change, concentrate on what is controllable by you. Only you can control how the daily grind affects your outlook on life. Don't be someone who waits with his or her hands out, wishing in one, shitting in the other, and wondering which hand will fill up first. Be proactive and take control of your state of mind. That's the spirit of this philosophy, a pearl of wisdom I'm handing you for the pittance of a price, reading this article.
You probably are thinking, generalities aside, how does this philosophy actually work? A good question, for sure. The best way I can think of to answer your question is to give you an example of how I've flipped the switch in my life.
All kidding aside, I am a diabetic. When diagnosed, my blood sugar numbers were through the roof. What can I say? I like sugar. More accurately, I adore and crave the stuff, and every morsel of food worth eating is filled with that succulent substance. Unfortunately, sugar is a poison for me.
Diabetes became a big conundrum for me. The oral medicines my docs provided didn't get this malicious disease under control. The next stop on the diabetes bus was Insulin Station. By any means, not the preferred place to be. At that point, life was sucking real bad for me.
My wife heard of another way to deal with this most annoying disease. We watched a video about it, which informed us about the benefits of a vegan lifestyle for diabetics. My first thought was, Oh, FUCK!
To give you context for my reaction to a vegan diet, you have to understand, for most of my life, vegetables were my enemy. No, that statement is not hyperbole. I detested vegetables with every fiber of my being. My five, go-to food groups were pepper(of all varieties; black, white, red, Cajun, ect.), soda(the more sugary the better), ice cream(I ate it up by the gallon), meat, and any other sugary delight under the sun. As you can clearly see, fruits and vegetables were nowhere to be found on that list. Sure, a couple fruits and vegetables made it into my stomach, but those were more like garnishes. Peppers and onions augmented a thick, juicy steak. Strawberries accented a creamy ice cream. Tomatoes and garlic made a meat-lovers pizza to die for. My five food groups made up most of my diet, at least, ninety to ninety-five percent of it.
Fruits and vegetables may be what animals call food, but I call them what they are meant to be, compost. Although I now eat a strict, vegan diet and have done so for almost three years, I still think of them in that manner. How did I get from Point A to Point B?
It wasn't an easy journey. There's no doubt about that fact. I can't say I've come to love fruits and vegetables because I still detest their very existence. Another of Mother Nature's jokes at my expense. However, I did change my worldview, regarding those unsavory morsels. Since I couldn't change the nature of fruits and vegetables, I decided to accept them as my primary food source. Turns out, condiments are my best friend in that regard. With enough pepper, salt, relish, salsa, and soy sauce, fruits and vegetables are much more edible. I wouldn't go so far as to say they are good, but at least, they are edible. My body loves them, anyway. Damn traitor!
Once I went vegan, my numbers dropped like gangbusters. All it took to get there, was a mental realization that allowed me to accept this life-altering diet. I flipped the switch and avoided the annoyance of needle sticks and insulin. All I can say is, it worked for me.
Try flipping the switch. You'll feel empowered and will be happier for giving it the old college try. Flipping the switch is that powerful. It gives the power of positive thinking the legs needed to work its magic, and oh, what magic it is, indeed. Better than any of those damn pills quacks prescribe to ease the mind!
At this moment in time, I've given you the rest of the story. Since that's all that's fit to print, if that's what you can call this medium, go ahead, flip the switch, and make the most of your nights, however short they shall become over the next few months. Without further ado or unnecessary fanfare, good night and good luck!