Sunday, July 16, 2017

Thought Morsels

Running country is everywhere.
Open your door and you're in business.
Run in a schoolyard.  At the beach.
In a vacant lot. 
- Bill Bowerman

Coach Bowerman in his lifetime forgot more about running than I shall learn were I to live to the age of one hundred, which interests me almost as little as it does you.  Trust me.  Taking his wise words to heart, this morning I did one of my favorite things.  I used the beach as my "running country".  

The neat thing about running down by the waterline is that I have less need for music to keep me company than I have when I run on the boardwalk or on the road.  There might very well be a better acoustical accompaniment to one's morning run than the sound of waves crashing onto the sand but I know not what it is.  For me, it is a sound that puts me at peace.  And in the absence of music, it opens my brain up to ponder something other than the lyrics of a particular song.  Not big, complex thoughts mind you.  Consider the source, after all.  Something smaller.  A snack. A tidbit.  A morsel. Ah, happiness is the thought morsel. 

It occurs to me that it might be easier to suppress the desire to punch DJT, Jr. in the face, which response in me is triggered even BEFORE he opens the orifice in his face's center, if he did not, with his permanent smirk and his lacquered hair, awaken the echoes in my mind of just about every douche bag "bad guy" character in every movie John Hughes made in the 1980's.  But for the fact that he is the visual representation of Webster's definition of "rich prick", it might almost be possible for me to cut him slack every now and again. Well, right up until he starts to exercise the aforementioned facial orifice.  For those keeping score at home, he is someone you can fairly label as "entitled", a term that tends to be egregiously misused.  At least, in my experience. 

Also, it seems to me also that the time and energy of any reasonable Republicans and Democrats in Congress is better spent than by doing what Congressman Brad Sherman, a Democrat from California, is doing presently. I do not know Rep. Sherman, either personally or politically, but I am inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt that this particular Quixotic quest has a good-faith basis and his not his attempt to fulfill his own, personal Warholian prophecy.  As a Republican, and more importantly as an American who is more than a bit troubled regarding our nation's current trajectory, I implore you to listen to me on this one point:  MIKE PENCE IS NOT A GOOD HUMAN BEING. Spend a minute or ten examining his position on any number of issues - particularly those that impact the rights of women and of homosexuals - before you embrace the notion of him ascending to the Presidency as a good idea.  

There is no zealot as scary as the stealthy zealot - the one who looks like your uncle or, perhaps, the proprietor of the neighborhood hardwood store - but whose personal political bent is so far tilted to one side of the political spectrum that he views those opposed to him not as adversaries but as enemies. Pence is a stealthy zealot.  As long as Mitch McConnell has a District of Columbia mailing address, Pence will not be the District's most wretched elected official. His spot on that competition's medal platform is nevertheless secure.   

On a day on which it might seem difficult to attain the motivation necessary to get out of bed, it bears remembering that the presence of McConnell, Pence, DJT, Jr., and Yours truly on this planet is counterbalanced by truly exceptional, wonderful human beings.  The latter's number includes, but is by no means limited to, twenty-year-old United States Marine Dan Baldassare of Colts Neck, New Jersey and his fifteen fellow service members who were killed in a plane crash Monday night in Mississippi.  It also includes (again for purposes of illustration and not limitation) the approximately eighty people on the beach in Panama City, Florida who formed a human chain to rescue people, including children, who had become endangered by a rip current.  

Thought morsels.  They are not just for breakfast anymore. 


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