Random Realities By Ted

Published in the May 2011 Issue Published online: Nov 11, 2013 Ask The Expert Ted A. Thompson
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That's the point. Idling on the lake-I suppose that's another double entendre, but not nearly as clever-is a terrific time to do nothing but think. Roxanne would argue that there's always something more useful that needs doing, especially on the boat. Or at home. She likes to always be doing something productive. Me, I'm more laid back, at least when I can get away with it. I figure a mind is a more terrible thing to waste than time. We make a great team, Roxanne and I. But she is usually regarded as the grownup.

In this column I'd like to share a few of what I call my "Random Realities," the result of idling on the lake and contemplating the world as a whole, or sometimes as a hole. As a writer, are these a waste of my time? A waste of my mind? Doesn't matter, what's done is done. More to the point-as a reader, are they a waste of yours?

 

The saddest day of my life was when I realized I was already too old to have a mentor, and still too dumb to be one.

 

Some people say I'm obsessive-compulsive. That is so unfair. I just do what I gotta do, man.

 

I flicked my Bic before the eyes of my little dog, Sugar, reassuring her that yes, I am a god. Dogs are usually pretty easy.

 

If people would just behave like civilized human beings, I wouldn't have to go waving my .45 around all over the place.

As a writer, I don't want to be the splash of cream in your morning latte. I don't want to bring soft smiles to your pouty pink lips as you snuggle up to the gentle comfort of my wisdom. No, as a writer I want to be the cop in your rear view mirror. I want to be the unsettling thing that goes bump in your darkest night. I want to hit you between the eyes with a smackdown of rugged truth, and bring you trembling to your senses. But unfortunately I'm very shy, and not that confident in anything I might have to say. Kind of sad, really. Total loss for the world, I figure.

 

You don't have to think just like me to be my friend. Likewise, you don't have to convince me to think like you. We are equally entitled to our own opinions, and your value as a friend goes much deeper than your idiotic beliefs.

 

I was wondering the other day, "What is my particular gift?" Roxanne said, "You have the ability to make people laugh." And I said, "No, I mean what do I get?"

 

Why do people insist on calling it the hot water heater? It's the COLD water heater, for cryin' out loud. I get blank stares all the time. I'm about to give up changing the world.

 

The things we are obsessive about become the realities of our lives. No, wait, reverse that. Well, no. Dang, I'm just not sure, and it's driving me crazy.

 

One problem with being an aging child of the 60's is that I don't know whether to blame acid flashbacks or encroaching senility for some of the things I do. Sometimes I see rainbows in my oatmeal. Especially when I smear it on the dog.

 

I downloaded a bootleg copy of a spyware scanner to protect my computer. When I fired it up, it infected my PC with a real nasty virus. I hate justice when it happens to me.

 

I'm going to continue writing humorous things, but I'm going to quit making them reliant on those stupid, underlying elements of truth. That's so bogus.

 

I admire people who can change their minds about long-held beliefs. It takes great courage to consider it, great wisdom to do it, and great self-assurance to admit it.

 

So many levels to the truth
Perspectives on it, too,
The purest blacks and whites of youth,
Blend grey, upon review.

 

Until Next Time,

My Best from the Stern
Ted A. Thompson

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