Another Tricky Day

You Can't Always Get it, When You Really Want it

Boredom has set in at Casa De La Ranter, but it's to be expected. While half the country has had nothing but rain, we've had sun and it's warming up. Today we nearly hit a hundred, tomorrow we might pass it. I know I haven't blogged for a while, I'm not sure why except nothing to say.

The country is still messed up, economy wise no better really. Tarp is a joke; no surprise Obama's golden boy image is wearing thin. Iran re-elected a nutjob, oh well that's the way the cookie crumbles. Michael Jackson died. Now that gave me pause. Wacko Jacko is dead. He was 50. And everyone now loves him, or trying to grab their last shot at 15 minutes of fame at his expense. If I have to hear one more person speak about his drug use, I'll scream. In fact I'm tired of coverage. Yes, he was weird, odd, guilty of at the very least being inappropriate with young boys, I don't know if there was anything more than that. He was also a magnet for any type of lawsuit. I don't know. I kinda think he was asexual. I wouldn't be surprised if it comes out that eventually that the kids were by donor sperm. I just can't imagine him jerking off in a jar.

I will freely admit that if his death, again at the age of 50, is drug related, then something needs to be done about celebrities hiring their own doctors. And, really think about it, a man with a doctor with him nearly 24 hours a day, and he's dead. What hope is there for us? Naturally a "yes man" with a prescription pad can be deadly, we saw it before with that young Batman actor Heath Ledger, and even the train wreck life that was Anna Nicole Smith. We also saw it 30 years ago with Elvis, and still we do nothing. We sit in our complacent world and say things like, "I don't cry for pedophiles." The press condemns and we sit nodding our heads mindlessly barely blinking to the magic box that tells us what to think. I'm tired of it.

I have arrived but to one conclusion, life remains a delicate tapestry, and therein, I believe, two sides. One side, often called positive, is brilliant, vibrantly colored, but without the fine detail of the interconnecting threads. The negative side is dull somewhat, yet the image though reversed is clearly visible and there you notice the way the threads connect and interact with each other. The positive and negative sides of things require both to exist. The human nature and order of life often uninspired can easily breed contempt as well as beauty.

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