If you didn't watch the state of the union last night let me catch you up. The economy is on an upswing. The job market is improving. We need to bring our troops home. We need to work together to build a better America. We need more bipartisanship. Basically it's same speech/different tie every year. And the ties aren't even that interesting! They are either red or blue. Maybe, just maybe, we get some stripes. I for one would have enjoyed the tan suit dead of winter or not.
I often think if the SOTU is so rosey what the hell are we fighting about? Take the day off FOX News. The Pres. says everything is fine. Show a Law & Order Marathon instead. The problem with that is two-fold. First L&O is way too hard for Elizabeth Hasselbeck to comment on...much like politics in general. Also often the job of Commander in Chief is to convince the American people that this big snowman he is in charge of is doing just fine in Miami on the beach on the Fourth of July. Basically no matter what you do half the people are not going to like it. Talk about a tough room. People clapped when he said he was quitting! Damn haters. That's the leader of the free world. Ouch.
I hate politicians. They are more alike than different. They are out of touch. They get away with murder (sometimes literally). I will never understand how we let two gaggles of millionaires get to decide what happens to us small fries. And they can't even get along doing it. Ug.
But as a comedian I guess I am more a fan of the Republican party. It's more for ease of use. It's way simpler to make fun of Sarah Palin than it is Barney Frank. Which is saying something. Because Barney Frank is tubby gay man with a Paul Lynde voice. And Sarah Palin is a good looking, Christian woman with five kids. So when you think about it, there's progress.
Today is a dear friend's birthday. It is amazing how many birthdays there are in January - including my own. Or at least there are a ton in my circle of friends. I guess it's true. Spring has sprung and mating season has begun. It's ironic (see yesterday's post) that as soon as the weather clears and we can go outside an be healed of our cabin fever out in the glorious sun all we want to do is stay in and SHTUP!
Every year you hear things like "Another year older another year wiser." Or "Over the hill." You set goals for yourself and use age as a benchmark. For me I wanted to own my own home before I was 30, be famous before I was 35, and kill myself at 50 if I was unsuccessful at the first 2. But why do we set all these arbitrary goals for ourselves? Would it not been as rewarding if I bought my first house at 32? Maybe not. We will never know. Because I was 29-and-a- half. Nailed it!
In this world of biological clocks, cosmetic companies selling the fountain of youth, and Hollywood starlets aging out at 35 it starts to get harder and harder to enjoy a birthday. As we approach it the proverbial hill gets higher and higher from our perspective. And that's all that really matters. How old do I feel as opposed to how old I am. If we don't think that way or we let our ideas about aging take over we will all be in a rocking chair at 40.
I'm all caught up right now with this notion that I wasted so much time. If I was 25 and where I am with my career I would be fine. But I am so behind. I waited too long. Blah blah blah. Enter the Chicken Soup for the Soul calendar I got for Christmas. I'm a cynic and loath a gift like this. However I gotta admit when the student is ready the master appears. January's theme is one of those trees of life. The Chinese proverb athe bottom of it reads "The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second best time is now."
Fine Chicken Soup. I'm off to dig either my grave or a perfect spot for a tree to give some shade. But either way I promise to dig every day.
Happy Birthday Capricorns. May the goat be with you.
True story: A woman puts on her social media that unless someone takes her cats she is going to abandon them (not take them to a shelter) when she moves out of her rental that she couldn't afford. The post was followed by one of those Gandhi-esque animal quotes about how you shouldn't abuse animals. And she didn't get the irony! As an animal lover I am offended at the cruelty. As a comedian I'm offended that there's a woman who doesn't understand irony. The situation is like a terrorist throwing a live grenade and then guilting you into throwing yourself on top of it!
Putting the onus on the public to care for the living being that she took responsibility for. Trying to to guilt me into having the conscious that she doesn't possess. I keep thinking of her packing up her socks and underwear knowing she was just going to leave her cats to the elements in a region that has all four seasons. But at the same time putting her tightie whities in a safe space for transport. What? There's no Walmart where you are moving to? Pack the cats not the socks.
It really gets you thinking about what we value in this world. It also gets you thinking about why that is. I know in this situation the morality is all skewed because the woman can just get another cat when it is more convenient for her. And she did. The cats have no value.
One life can replace another so easily to some people. I saw his first hand when I was out in New Orleans rescuing animals with the Humane Society of the United States. We can get another animal for free. Socks and underwear require a trip to Walmart.
Another true story: I have a buddy who's living situation has changed drastically. He has begun the process of actively finding a home for his dog the right way. No sad stories, no neglect to the animal, exhausting all resources, asking all friends, no guilt, giving himself enough time to have this all work out for the best and leaving no stone unturned. I'm trying to help him.
Jack is a thirty-pound, six-year-old brindle lab mix. He was rescued from a shelter and currently lives with small children and cats. I know him - sweet and submissive. Now what lady out there wouldn't kill for that? Seriously, no behavior problems. When I come in the door he walks over, gets petted, and then goes back to where he was laying down. He is super sweet. So send me an email if you are interested. I would love to hear from you.
So that big lead in just to ask you to find this dog a home? Now that's irony.
"The time is always right to do what is right." - Martin Luther King, Jr.
Now that's really irony.
Just as I put the cap on the Sharpie with self-adoration and victoriously hung the calendar back on the wall with my schedule for this week all blocked out I was interrupted by most unlikely sources - KIDS! I'm not talking about the furry kind I like either. I mean real, tiny, sticky, loud, attention-whoring kids.
First was the text from my 10-year-old pal who wanted to make sure I was going to church Sunday because she really wanted to see me. I think to myself "Wasn't planning on it. It's going to rain and it's Championship Sunday." But what are you going to do? Tell Punky Brewster that you gotta watch football? That's setting a fine example. So I go.
After the services and coffee hour my energetic side kick says "You wanna go dress shopping with us?" I think to myself "Wasn't planning on it. It's going to rain and it's Championship Sunday!" But what are you going to do? Tell Punky Brewster that you gotta watch football? That's setting a fine example. So I go. The universe rewards me with a Calvin Klein tunic on the clearance rack for ten bucks after I produced a coupon on my iPhone. Thank you Dr. King. I'm starting to really like technology. Which is a big step for me and my relationship with Macy's.
The second shocking text I got Saturday night was from my pal in El Barrio on the upper east side of Manhattan who asked me to be the Godmother to her son. Wait. Let me guess. The ceremony is Super Bowl Sunday right? No. But she did do that to me last year for the baby shower. Lucky it was a blow out and I didn't miss much. But this baptism is on a weekend that I have a conference. Ug.
I don't have kids of my own and I don't see my nephews as they live states away from me. I live pretty much a kid-free life. When these invitations come up I think to myself if I wanted this I would have had kids. I think I liked it better back in the day when parents thought homosexuality was catchy. Maybe I need to move to the south.
But until then it seems to take a big, gay village to raise a child. Now I don't know if it is the fact that I mostly dress like a 12-year-old boy, my love of cartoons, or because I know how to make balloon animals but I seem to have been elected mayor. So until someone comes to their senses I'm raising an entirely new generation who fart in public and where Hello Kitty socks (just like my mall rat buddy) here on the East Coast. Did I mention I got a Scooby Doo chain wallet at Spencer's? This is all so confusing.
I remember about 15 years ago that my parent's neighbor had a dog named Dolly. I would go up and pet her when I was there. This was usually because I had to go in her yard and collect either my parent's dog or my little hellion who had headed to said neighbor's yard without really feeling that permission or a human escort was needed. Ah bad dogs: introducing neighbors awkwardly since domestication.
One afternoon I went to visit my parents and noticed that Dolly was trying to stand and kept tipping over. "Mom, what's the matter with Dolly?" "I don't know," my mom said. When I went up to the tree she was tied to her snout was so swollen that it wouldn't even shut. I went down to get my dad. Then I started to make my way again to the dog.
"Moosh, don't you bring that dog down here," my father said. "Moosh. I'm serious. I'm gonna have a lot of trouble with your mom if you bring that dog down here." Click. I unhooked the chain and put the barely conscious dog in my arms and walked back to my parents house. "Call animal control," I say. "Jesus Christ Dave," my mother says.
The dog warden came and ended up seizing Dolly. The neighbor bragged that she has family and could get 50 (insert the word that Donald Sterling got in trouble for saying as the adjective here) to arrive that night to do us harm. We are still waiting.
Dolly got adopted. Or so they told us. I know the pound has a way of always "adopting" a dog that you rescue. Much like the way parents take the family pet to a beautiful farm to live on conveniently during school hours. But lets assume the best.
My father and I had to testify in the animal abuse case. Another woman who heard the abuse on the other side of the property didn't want to get involved. She was elderly and didn't drive. My father offered to drive her and talked her into it. I still remember her in the witness box. She reminded me of someone who would have been a friend of Aunt Esther on Sanford and Son with the box purse and pillbox hat. I remember the prosecutor asking her "Now did the dog make any noise when she was getting hit with the broom handle?" Her reply was "Well what would you do if you were getting hit with a broom handle?" All that was missing was the word "Sucka" at the end of her sentence. The dog beater got a $500 fine.
That's how you do it folks. Well, at least that's how I did it that day. It is pretty easy to do the right thing when you are passionate about something. The trick is to do the right thing all the time just because it is right. Period. Which is still easier than watching an episode of the Kardashians.
I'm sitting in a lovely house writing this blog. But it's cold. I just got up to put on another sweater. Tonight, all night, there will be dogs left outside. The law in these-here-parts say that as long as the dog has a plastic igloo and unfrozen water the owners are within the law. I think Aunt Esther would say "Now how would you be if you were outside with no clothes in a plastic igloo with unfrozen water?"
So I challenge you. If you see something say something - Sucka.
