Lights, Camera, give me a minute

I have a lot of video apps on my various devices.  I have a lot of great ideas for videos, unique and delightful videos, charming, short and entertaining. Videos that will capture a whole weekend of kayaking, cooking out, and restful cabin in the woods living in two minutes of blissful photos, film and music. People will watch and say, “I wish I had been there.” And they will mean it, too, because they will feel like they had been there, thanks to my brief cinematic masterpiece. 

Here is a sample of one of my ideas, a stairway inside an elevator, that still kills me. 

I plan to put a stairway down when I push the down button.

I am going to evaluate them, and let you know which one is the best for the money.

Unfortunately I was born in a state of constant nervous self-doubt. My hands shake slightly all the time. My photos and videos mostly look as if they were taken during a mild but noticeable earth tremor. It makes the videos and slide shows a little nauseating to watch. But, I keep trying.

Another thing I was born with is a slightly skewed, unusually developed sense of empathy. Not the good kind of empathy, sharing the pain or joy of friends and family, but a type that takes the joy of others as proof of my inability to find happiness. Happiness becomes a zero sum game, and when somebody is so happy it proves my misery. Maybe empathy is the wrong word.

Take, for example, this woman who delivers supplies to the company where I work. She is aggressively cheerful, belligerent in her happiness. When I answer the intercom connected to the door and hear her cheery voice it makes my skin crawl.

“Hi, it’s Jane,” (not her real name), “from Tortuous Paper and Corrugated with a delivery.” (Not really the name of the company for whom she works. The names have been changed to protect the guilty).

She smiles and buries me under a barrage of sunny, upbeat small talk. Hammering away at what remains of my will to resist with tales of grandchildren, pets, weekends fishing from the boat. I am reduced to a quivering mass of exposed raw nerves, trying to escape, looking for something to hide under. One time I contemplated faking an injury but I was terrified she might know first aid. 

“Here, let me put a splint on that. Oh my, it looks like we might need to open you up. Fortunately I bought a box opener with a sterile blade. I’ll just sedate you with a story about my trip to Pigeon Forge and this will be over before you can say ‘where do I sign.’”

One day I made the mistake of asking her, “Are you always like that?”

Then she really turned up the heat. Her happiness was terrible, intractable. Waves of untrammeled good will smashing into me, driving me towards the abyss, the merciful silence of the end.

I was telling my wife about it.

“Are you crazy?” She asked.

“No, I’m sensitive.” I said. “What I need to do is have an EKG and a complete neurological workup before and after her next delivery so I can prove she is stealing minutes from the end of my life. The good minutes, where I am retired and not subject to the painful cheerfulness of hostile delivery people. If I can prove that I can convince my employer to make somebody else accept that delivery.” 

I’m not sure she heard me. She had turned away, turned up the volume on the television and didn’t respond. I cursed the evil genius who gave us remote control.

That isn’t what I wanted to tell you, and I don’t really remember what this was originally about, but when I remember I will return.

Big Brother House on Pennsylvania Ave.

I didn't watch Apprentice, or Celebrity Apprentice. I don't really watch any of those shows. It is not that I think there is anything wrong with them, they just don't appeal to me.

I can imagine, though, how a typical episode worked. You create friction, infuse it with tension, heighten it with competition and finally resolution. It probably had some hints of subterfuge and espionage, mostly for ornamentation rather than any really substance.

It is the same thing I learned from Ms. Stoltman in Creative Writing so many years ago. You can have as many dogs as you want, but only one bone. It has worked for years, for so many writers. Since I never saw the show I will not pretend to know if they were effective.

President Trump has seemed to take this practice to a nightmarish level. Everything has become a national crisis. We are surrounded by dangers that only he could expose, only he can solve.

North Korea has been a problem for years, and years to everybody in the world. Including, most tragically North Koreans. There is nothing new in the belligerence of Kim Jong 3.2. It is an isolated kingdom wrapped up in paranoia and mistrust. The thing they fear most is losing power, so they bluster and they posture, and they parade, and they threaten. And, they always have.

But, they are not a problem you can solve. You can manage it, like the last dozen or so presidents have. Or you can blow it up, and cause a tragedy of terrible proportions for uncountable people. It is not something you can bully away. Or tweet out of existence.

Most immigrants are just looking for a dream. A dream we have been selling for years, the American Dream, come make a life for yourself, be rewarded for the fruits of your labor. Refugees are normally just the opposite, they are running from a nightmare. Leave home or die, horribly is the choice so many of them face.

But, we package them as a scourge, a blight on our society, and we can manufacture a solution. It is so much simpler than facing the problem. Inequity, and destruction do not sell on prime time.

Now, we have reality television in the oval office. And it works a lot better if you take the complexity out of the equation, and package it as an easy solution. It works for television, but it hasn't translated very well to coherent national policy. I hope season two is better.

Medical Problems, and Doctor Troubles

Yesterday I had an appointment to see my Doctor. It was my yearly checkup. It is always tense, and uncomfortable. But, over the last few years we have come to an understanding, I am trying to be a better patient, and he has become more patient. Tendinitis, and a the painful effects of an ancient elbow fracture have actually made us closer. He sees that I am willing to do my exercises if it will help me walk without a limp or return the feeling to my fingers. And I began to understand that he was really trying to help me live better, and longer.

Yesterday was different, though. Things were more subdued, even by the standards of our new relationship. He was polite, in an odd way, in a way that made me more than a little nervous about things. I began revising the estimates of my probable continuation downward, sharply. He must know something, I reasoned. But, what, I hadn’t had my blood test yet. Did he see something on my chart, had my expiration date changed since my last visit? What did he see staring at that computer screen?

“Well, your blood pressure is good today.” He said, smiling.

Here is where he drops the bomb, I thought. He will start with my weight, my diet, my appearance,
the grey in my hair, the shape of my glasses clashing with the contours of my face. Something, anything.

“You have quite a buildup in your ears.” He said. “I will send the nurse into flush them clean.”

He smiled, warmly, pleasantly, it filled me with dread. I am doomed, and he wants me to be able to hear the last rights clearly.

I was shaking with terror as the nurse forced warm water into my ears, she was humming “Nearer My God to Thee.”

“Would you like to see?” She asked taking the water, and the gunk from ear to flush it down the sink.

“No, not at all.”  I shuddered at the thought.

“Some people do.” She started humming again.

The doctor came back and sat down on his little doctor stool and looked me in the eyes.  “I have something to tell you.”

Oh, God, No. I am too young to die. My mind screamed. I snapped the pencil I was holding.

“My wife got a job in California. And we are moving at the end of July.”

I had finally had a good appointment, one where I didn’t hear all the things that should worry me, we had finally decided I was doing ok, and now he is leaving me. And I will have to break in a new doctor. But, at least I’m going to live.

Bob has a problem, we have a solution.

It is a sad day, here at Life Explained. We were just getting ready to launch our Planetary Expeditionary Vehicle, (PEV) the culmination of months of not having enough to do, when we realized our Proprietary Cold Fusion Drive was "non operational."  It was broken, in fact it might never have worked.

Turns out the person (Bob) in charge of developing the drive for the ship had a little problem with the ponies. And when we say a little problem with the ponies we mean a huge, glaring weakness. An all consuming need, a unquenchable desire. He had to ride the ponies.

It started simply enough. He hired a pony for his son's birthday party, and they "pony wrangler" let him take if for a quick spin. He was hooked.

At first he just drove around the various neighborhoods looking for birthday parties where they had rented a pony. That was never enough. Is there truly ever enough?

Soon he was hiring a pony every weekend, and sometimes on Wednesday. Eventually he dropped off the bowling team.

He couldn't just hire a pony, though. That would be too weird. He had to throw a party. And they kept getting increasingly elaborate. Bounce houses, clowns, tiny, for hire ferris wheels. Catered affairs that kept the neighbors suspicions aroused, but since they were getting fed twice a week they were willing to look the other way, even if they were packing on the extra pounds from all the pizza and cake.

All of this just to feed his addiction. It was sad, Bob is in rehab, and apparently doing quite well. His neighbors have all joined Weight Watchers, at our expense. We have turned the PEV into a camper and are going to the North Shore on in Michigan and spending a little time on Lake Superior. It will be fun. Once the election is over it will be business as usual, and we probably wouldn't have time for space exploration anyway.

Life Explained, on Vacation.

After his little accident yesterday Doctor Dawg has decided to take a brief vacation. Since we are kind of slow right now anyway it seemed like a good time for all of us to take a little break. Everybody has been laboring under disastrously tight, almost impossible deadlines. Tempers were short, and small differences of opinion were exploding into disastrous conflicts.

Last week the executive spokesperson actually pulled a box cutter out of her Versace scarf and threatened to "peel the flesh off your worthless corpse" when she found out the treasurer's assistant had taken the last cheese danish. Sensing the potential peril the treasurers assistant picked up a chair and used it as a shield while she poured a coffee. Since it was the last cup she made a fresh pot, still holding the chair in a defensive position, The two started circling the kitchen slowly, sipping fresh hot coffee, and staring hatefully at each other.

Security was summoned and took the box cutter, the chair and several cups of coffee, and some blueberry bagels with several small tubs of cream cheese. Both employees received disciplinary notes in their files, and we added a new paragraph to the employee manual involving the consumption of cheese danish and threatening to flay your coworkers. Oddly enough this had never come up before, and nobody really had the foresight to anticipate the exchange.

But, the executive council decided to give everybody a weeks paid leave, a fresh cheese danish, hot coffee, and a CD on patience, harmony, and peaceful coexistence.

But, Doctor Dawg is having a blast in the Mediterranean, He is learning to scuba dive, and ride a motor scooter. So, if things seem a little less productive in the US, things not getting done, computers running a little slow, cable television fading in and out a little bit, lines at gas stations, and grocery stores, utility bills climbing, traffic tie ups getting worse, we are sorry. Next week we will be back to take care of things. Maybe you should take a week off too.

It was not my fault, not all of it, anyway

My aging is kind of a problem. For example my memory. It has improved so dramatically I remember things that didn't even happen. Man, I was a hero, epic and immortal. When things got bad, who did people call?  Well, you know the answer. Not really, mostly my memory is very unflattering, and it seems like I spent most of my life as a dork. But, that is fine, because it doesn't seem to be genetic. My sons seem to be able to manage in social situations. It, it one less thing to worry about, and life offers plenty of opportunities for concern.

1. Phosphorous Deficiencies.
2. Curly Top Virus.
3. Flea Beetles
4. Tobacco Hornworms
5. Fusarium Wilt
6. Bacterial Canker
7. Catfacing
8. Sunscald

And these are just if you are trying to grow tomatoes. Plants are pretty simple things and seemed relatively fool proof, until we decided to garden. 

Now, we have to check the soil acidity, and pH levels. Fertilizer, and water, and sweat, and tears, and they produce a few tasty, but small tomatoes. And then the plants wither and die. But, hope springs eternal, and every year we try.

This year it was two tomato plants and a pepper plant, and we killed them, poor plants. They aren't
dead yet, but they are fading fast. I feel awful. Poor, innocent plants, stuck in the ground, motionless, unable to escape, helpless against the coming catastrophe. I am not sure they understand the hopelessness of the situation.

Next year I might warn them, when we are picking them out, I might add, "this is a suicide mission, you will have no chance of success, and we are looking for volunteers. Any takers?" I will have to do this behind my wife's back, she still believes we might figure this out, and enjoy a bountiful harvest. Poor, innocent wife.

It might be kindness that kills the plants, it might be they need a little discipline. "Grow, damn you!" I don't know.

After looking at our plants our neighbor said we could have some of his tomatoes, a little charity is good for the soul, and the salad, and the bacon, lettuce, tomato sandwich. We will feast tonight.

My new blog; a little different.

Today, I posted the third installment of my newest blog.  I am still not sure where it is going.  So far, though, the situation seems a little hopeless.  Is mankind doomed, programmed to self destruction.  From what has been recorded for posterity, it seems so.

After explaining what I was researching, and the conclusions to a friend, he asked "what do you suggest we do about it?"

"I don't think there is anything we can do."  I explained.  We can only watch, and wait for the hammer to fall.  Sooner or later someone, somewhere will do something that starts the next shuffle of the deck, it may have happened already, in Eastern Europe, or the Middle East, and is now beginning to boil, and stew, and fester, until it explodes, and everybody is dragged in to the next "unavoidable war."

I just hope I am still here to say "I told you so."

Anyway, here is the link to my newest blog.

History, it is not so far away, after all. 

Finally, a Solution to the worlds problems,

Looking around the world today there is a lot of sadness, a lot of misery, and a lot of loneliness.  People are looking for a friendly voice, a soft shoulder, a warm embrace, something to make them happy, anything.  It is truly one of the tragedies of our time, we have become so enamored of technology, gadgetry, electronics that we have lost our sense of empathy, we are lost souls drifting in an ocean of communication, without no hope of communing.

Ray Davies sang of the 20th century being a mechanical nightmare, and he had a valid complaint, but this is worse, insidious and omnipresent, we can not escape the grasp of our devices, and find our friends.  We can not look past the touch screen to touch the lives of others, unless we can do it online.

What can we do about it?  How can we find even a moments respite, a small, warm touching moment of intimacy, a little warmth, the healthy, caring glow of companionship in a world gone mad with the lunacy of electronics?  You ask.

We, here at Life Explained (#lifeexplained) are glad you asked.  We think having a pet is a wonderful solution.  "But," you might protest, "pets can be so time consuming, demand so much attention, are such a huge commitment,in time and money, how can we justify such an investment?"

We, here at Life Explained (#lifeexplained) are glad you brought that up.  We have instituted the Rent A Pet Program* (RAPP, for short), a unique, inexpensive, commitment free way to have the loving, comforting presence of a pet, without the long term demands of ownership.

You simply email us tweetTweetJohn@yahoo.com with the dates you would like to have a pet, and we will send Dr. Dawg* over to cover the requested days, offering companionship, sympathy and caring, loving friendship, all for one low price.

Imagine coming home to this loving face after a hard thankless day at work.  Picture the joy you would feel having a companion waiting at the door, an understanding, caring pet, that offers nothing but compassion, and love.  No judgement, no demands, just love.  And, if he could make a pan of killer lasagna wouldn't that be even better?

Doesn't that sound joyous?  Wouldn't you like that?  Of course you would.  Act now, while there are still openings in the schedule, the holidays are a very stressful time and we expect a lot of demand, so reserve your Dr. Dawg visit now.

*Dr. Dawg and Rent A Pet are exclusive Life Explained properties, except no substitutes.  Life Explained (#lifeexplained) is not responsible for unfulfilled expectations, or any cardiovascular conditions resulting from consuming the comfort food that Dr. Dawg specializes in making.  Tell your doctor about any heart conditions, hypertension, or lactose intolerance, but, we, here at Life Explained think your doctor probably already knows.