Many, if not most, of us are familiar with the poem "Trees."
I've always enjoyed it for, among other reasons, because I grew up old near New Brunswick, New Jersey, the birthplace of its author, Joyce Kilmer.
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| Joyce Kilmer, 1886-1918 |
Not performative but more transformative and, I'd argue, a better way for us to get along with some of the life forms with whom we share this planet.
-bill kenny
I came of age before the Internet.
"Ask your mother," was our generation's "Google it." And if Mom (or Dad) didn't know what you were asking about, it was probably NOT worth knowing.
Now, with all the information in the history of mankind just a keystroke away, I'm at a loss as to why there's so much UnKnowledge in the world. UnKnowledge is when you believe something to be true no matter how much factual data to the contrary is presented.
And, yes, the Trump White House would, in my opinion, be Ground Zero for UnKnowledge; from low-flow toilets killing whales who got cancer from windmills while tracking the fifty million one hundred million condoms the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) provided to Hamas. And don't come at me with how those undocumented immigrants are driving up the price of eggs.
Turns out, not even the Gulf of Mexico is safe from UnKnowledge and don't get me started on those hosers from the 51st state, Canada. But even though so much of what is online is wrong, we'll never stop looking stuff up there now.
Sure, we could go to the library and actually research a topic, but in an era (or is it error?) where ignorance is just as good (if not better) than knowledge, why bother? Be like Elmo Muskrat who makes up his own facts, and why not? Who better to support his positions than facts he created himself? I look at that and go 'Why didn't I think of that?'
It's like Firesign Theatre's "Everything You Know Is Wrong" is actually "America For Dummies." Just watch an hour of anybody's TV news (okay, maybe not One America Network; they're full-on crazy), but anybody else's and you'll feel you're on a Gray Line tour of Hitler's Bunker during the Fall of Berlin while on acid.
And we're only a month into this version of "Make America Great Again. Again." There's forty-seven (or more if the rumors are true, and why woudn't they be?) more months of this to go. Life in these United States right now is, I suspect, akin to be waterboarded, but with UnKnowledge.
All this time I thought Knowledge is Power. And now there's an energy shortage.
-bill kenny
Winter's seemingly endless shades of grey, howling winds, and unfriendly weather make me morose (as opposed to less rose; a little English language joke there for you as a bonus).
I'm nearing the beginning of my seventy-third year of residency here on The Big Blue Marble. The inexorable march of time and the gallant though losing battle with ailments, illnesses, and injuries finds me more often melancholy than is my wont as my Natal Anniversary approaches.
As a kid, when I had the world figured out, I thought I could be the President of the United States, a baseball player, a cowboy, and an astronaut at the same time. As the years have gone by, the number of people I could be has continued to shrink until it's been reduced to just me, as I am.
Not the most impressive or reassuring sight in the mirror every morning, I'll concede, especially when the wired world brings me picture postcards from paths I could have chosen, but chose not to, despite their breathtaking beauty.
I'm not anywhere. I'm here. For now and I guess forever.
-bill kenny
There are a myriad of things I don't "get."
Mushrooms in any form at any time. Water Chestnuts as part of a meal, any meal. Pineapple on pizza or, as I've been seeing in my local grocery recently, as pineapple pie. RB Leipzig, period (stop, check please).
And amongst and betwixt all of that, Kanye West, or as he is called now, Ye. <sigh> How can I miss him when he never goes away?
My disinterest, bordering on antipathy, doesn't diminish his success in any way. I suspect he doesn't consider a nearly seventy-three-year-old guy so white he glows in the dark to be in his target demo and that's as it should be.
There are billions of people on this planet, I suspect for whom I care not a feather to a farthing and yet every once in a while, usually when I've forgotten all about him, or nearly, he pops back up and to my dismay I find myself paying him more attention than, for instance, RB Leipzig covered in mushrooms.
His music does nothing for me, at all. Again, not in his target demo so that's okay. Never understood the whole fascination with The Kardashians and the struggles he has/had with a diagnosis of bipolar and now, I'm told autism. I wish him well with whatever he's trying to work through but in recent days, I'm wondering why he can't work through it quietly and far away.
Ye, not for nothing: being an A$$hole is not a medical condition, and in your case, there's no cure.
-bill kenny
But you'll have to decide which is which.
The other day, a brown bear was caught short in the woods and squatted beside a bunny who was also engaged in the same activity. "Hey," said the bear, "I notice your backside is sitting right on the ground instead of slightly elevated like mine."
"That's true," replied the rabbit, "That's because poo doesn't stick to my fur."
"Great!" exclaimed the bear, grabbing the rabbit and using it to wipe his butt.
In case, you were wondering, that was supposed to be the funny.
Back in the Cold War, I was on the tip of the Sword of Freedom, metaphorically speaking, as an airman working for the Armed Forces Radio and Television Service (AFRTS) at Sondrestrom Air Base, Greenland. It was surprisingly easy to get a shaving waiver and yet there were very few beards among the men stationed there, and even fewer among the women ("Oh, now he does a joke!").
What actually happened, at least for me when I decided to get a waiver, was the absolute cold would cause my exhaled breath to condense on my whiskers. Between the pain of the freezing combined with the additional pain when thawing, I abandoned the whole beard thing almost as quickly as I adopted it.
But I've watched enough episodes of Blue Planet to have wondered what's the deal with those polar bears I see punching their way through an ice flow and popping up to the surprise and dismay of a penguin who thought it was safe from a predator.
Here's that fact to go with the previous funny: polar bear fur does NOT freeze. You don't have to take my word for it, either, nor do you need to ask one of them yourself.
-bill kenny
One of the items I check daily in the newspaper delivered to the house is the obituaries. As I've aged, and badly truth be known, I've measured myself against those who've shuffled off their mortal coil. I never evaluate the lives whose passing I'm reading and sentiments like 'So and So led a full life,' never are uttered as I have no idea how true or false that conclusion is.
Growing up I was always impressed with how old grown-ups seemed to be, especially in comparison to me. And when I look in the mirror now, I don't see a nearly seventy-three-year-old man staring back at me but when I come across photos of myself from 'back in the day' I'm stunned at how decrepit I look now.
Do you remember 'The Magic 8 Eight Ball'? I used to always ask 'How old will I get to be?' And the response was always, 'Answer unclear.' And then I learned our mother's trick, not just for that question, but any and all of them. Don't ask the question if you can't stand the answer.
So, that said, how do you feel about finding out how old you'll live to be? Remember, your mileage may vary and objects in the mirror are older than they appear.
-bill kenny
Happy Birthday to all Presidents, from George through the current occupant, since when we say today is Presidents' Day I'm assuming we mean ALL of them and not just the ones some of us like some of the time. Democracy as a buffet!
Like any of us would not head straight to the dessert cart. Not around here, Skippy! When you buy a ticket you get the whole ride. But I do know if you have today off in observance of the holiday, you (and I) are a part of the Presidents' Day Posse, instead of that other posse. And for that alone, I'm thankful.
Many, if not most, of us are familiar with the poem " Trees ." I've always enjoyed it for, among other reasons, because I gre...
