Vail Valley Voices: I do bad things?
May 5, 2012
I’m not sure they’re bad, but experts who don’t think like I do will always tell me otherwise.
I like eating meat, especially cattle, an endangered species that produces the likes of rib-eye, T-bone and New York strip. I’ll include salmon in the classification, as well.
My theory for being endangered goes like this: If the price goes up every month, it only makes sense to assume the species is considered rare and is therefore endangered. Lobster and crab have always been endangered.
Tofu is notendangered because the price remains stable.
Therefore, and in conclusion, I eat endangered species.
I vote for the conservative candidate. This is really stupid on my part because whoever I vote for usually loses. If my choice happens to win a particular election, it’s not long before my conservative choice is corrupted in office and starts to makes decisions according to pollsters rather than the reason I voted for him in the first place.
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I guess it really doesn’t matter if it’s a conservative or liberal thinker. It’s a no-win situation and we all lose.
I have this acronym to deal with FOMF (Fear Of Missing Fun) or as a good friend of mine describes me, I stall and get “option paralysis.”
Here is how a typical Monday will go: I get the call from Denver and it’s a buddy of mine.
He says, “Hey, the wifey and me are going to see a movie on Saturday. You want to call someone and we do the old-fashioned double date thing?”
The fun dial flashes its bright light before me, and I’m thinking, “Whatever you do, don’t commit!” I wonder if I should ski, or go to the game, or to the theater, or dancing, or bowling, or a dozen other options.
My reply is simple. “It’s only Monday. I could be dead by Saturday. I’ll call you on Wednesday.”
I usually get a call back on Friday and my friend will ask the same question, and I say, “Maybe I’ll meet you there.”
What usually happens is I take an inventory of things to do and with whom to do them with.
By the end of the week I have more options than I can remember and ultimately forget what they are.
When Saturday rolls around, I wake up and have nothing to do.
Over the years, I’ve often wondered why old friends don’t call me anymore.
I don’t like to practice. In high school I knew I was never going to college on a football scholarship.
I wasn’t big enough, fast enough or mean enough and besides, I didn’t like to practice.
What I do regret is volunteering my time to coach youth soccer for seven years and having to deal with parents who believed in practice.
Some of them even expressed to me that their young child has a shot at a college scholarship.
To them I would say, “The kid doesn’t even shave. How can you tell?”
All those fourth- and fifth-graders would show up, rain or shine, every Tuesday evening in the park.
The first thing I would say to them was, “Anyone wanna go get a beer?”
And you know what? There were always two or three kids in the group who said, “yeah, let’s do it.”
I don’t think I’m the only one who wants to express his opinion once in awhile, but sometimes I may ramble too much.
It only shows that I’m not such a clear thinker when I speak one paragraph and include six completely separate thoughts.
For example: I’m nervous about the fact I’m late for a function and five people will be waiting for me.
Upon my arrival into the room, I walk to the crowd and say, “Hello everyone. Don’t you look lovely this evening and I can’t believe the traffic. Is someone not telling me about the way we’re going to fix the freeways and how about those Broncos? I want that job. Is it going to rain?”
Speaking of rambling, thanks for getting through this.
Sometimes I live vicariously through the words of Warren Zevon: “I’m just an excitable boy.”