Lookee here what I’ve got! Lookee here what I did!

Hi readers. Thanks for coming by for a read.

Tabby: Lookee here what I’ve got!  Lookee here what I did!”

Me:  “Well, Tabby, whatever the hell it is you’ve got, evidently at least it ain’t rabies.  Which is more than I can say for most of the human species.  As for what you did, I admire the time you spent preparing a hole to do it in.  I’m awed by the cable you laid precisely into that hole.  And I’m impressed by the patience you demonstrated and the trouble you took covering it, afterward.”  More than I can say for the human species.


Humane Society Thrift Store cashier [to the old guy ahead of me wearing a ball cap declaring he was once a US Marine]:    “You were a marine?”

Old guy, standing a bit straighter:  “Yes.”

She: Well.  Thank you.  Thank you for ‘being there’.

Old guy:  “Um.”  To himself:  “Well, shit.  Why do you think I’m wearing the cap?  Never done anything else in my life anyone was likely to thank me for.  But I did shoot at some people nobody remembers once a long time ago.  Never figured out exactly why.  But if someone thinks that’s worth thanking me  for, I’ll try to believe them.”


Restaurant in town, two oldsters talking across a table.

Oldster #1:  “Look what they’re doing!  Voting themselves pay raises, benefits.  Giving everything away to the niggers and Mescins!”

Oldster #2: Sons of bitches.  They multiply like rabbits.  Now they’re getting to be voting age, controlling the government.  Half of them can’t even speak English.”

Oldster #1:  “Yeah, bastard Communists!  They don’t believe in democracy!”


Seems to me the great majority of the oldsters I come across, watch, listen to as they interact and try to maneuver around in life, are lost.  Are fools.  No better, no worse than me.  Fools, knowing they spent their lives chasing the illusion that the more shit they could acquire, the wiser they’d be thought to be by someone, somewhere.

Some aren’t well off, sure as hell nobody cares what they think about anything because they didn’t pass the test.  But then there are the others, walking around in golf shirts, loafers, trying to demonstrate by their cars, their bumper stickers, their personal bearing, that they passed the test.  That they know shit someone should want to hear.

Nobody wants to hear it.  Not the oldsters without anything, because they aren’t taking anymore tests.  Not the youngsters because there’s nothing they see to admire in those richer-than-18-inches-up-a-bull’s-ass oldsters.  Nothing they want to emulate except having more shit sooner than the oldsters got it.


Back before civilization kicked in, tribes and villages supposedly thought oldsters were wise, looked to them for guidance, gave them a role in things.  But all that went away when things got complex.  Politicians, aristocrats, academians and priests were assigned the roles oldsters had when things were simpler.

Probably not because politicians, aristocrats, academians and priests were better equipped with wisdom.  But because the oldsters had demonstrated they weren’t.

No smarter, no wiser than they are today.  Maybe it’s time to find some other cadre of fools to replace the politicians, aristocrats, adademians and priests, who’ve had their chance and come up wanting.

How about rappers?  Ganstas?  How about celebrities?  TeeVee stars and rock-and-rollers?  Bikers?

They might not be any good, but they ain’t going to be any worse.

And what they get mightn’t be rabies.

6 responses to “Lookee here what I’ve got! Lookee here what I did!

  1. The least stressful years of my life were the ones when everything I owned fit in a couple of bags or a backpack. Almost every day I look at the culch we’ve collected and I think that after we’re gone it will all go in a yard sale. We do not have a bunch of stuff that we don’t use but none of it will mean a thing once we’re dead. For us, it represents hours and hours of hard work.

    The kids don’t care one way or the other about anything we say unless it’s something they want to hear. The second our opinions veer from their immediate gratification they stop listening. I listened to my mother and my grandparents and the older people who bothered to take the time to talk to me. It took a while but some of what they said sank in.

    Very happy that Tabby is fine!

    • Elroyjones: Tabby can’t be described as ‘fine’. She’s still got a ‘social disease’, methinks. Still fairly standoffish. But at least she’s eating well, drinking lots of water, even took some milk I put out for her in hopes of lowering her whatever-it-is-she’s-got.

      I can’t say I blame youngsters for not listening to us oldsters. I have occasion to listen to enough oldsters to have decided I wouldn’t listen to them either. Better to pull a card out of a shuffled deck than have one delt out of a shoe the oldster did the shuffling in. Gracias, J

      • The experience I have with kids not listening are the ones I used to be somewhat responsible for. After the most recent dramatic episode, I will be keeping all of my opinions to myself. They are welcome to live and learn on their own. Along with keeping my mouth shut, the checkbook will remain closed. I didn’t have children on purpose; every so often I am reminded why.

        Maybe Tabby is recovering from something. Sometimes I wonder if animals wish we knew what was wrong or if they’re relieved to keep their distance.

        • Hi Elroyjones: If I had a checkbook it would be closed, I reckons. Tabby’s maybe gradually getting back into the swing of things. Allowed me to pet her a while this AM while she ate, seemed to savor it. Then headed back across the meadow. I might try the untarnished-by-flavored-sauce Chinese sardines, or a bowl of milk this evening to try luring her into the RV. She needs to start being part of the tribe again. Besides, it’s time for flea meds.

          Gracias, J

  2. Age doesn’t necessarily confirm wisdom, as you found state. Oftentimes, old folks are older versions of their youthful pride and ignorance. If humility, gratitude and acceptance are absent, some more maturing is called for.

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