Clinton, South Carolina, Wednesday, May 16, 2018, 10:22 a.m.
One would think there would be limits. To this point, one would be wrong.
Life reminds me of a Tom T. Hall song called “Everything from Jesus to Jack Daniel’s.”
It’s the all-new American diet / Trying everything from Jesus to Jack Daniel’s / You get on it and your’re on it / For the rest of your life.
On the up side, Hall’s conclusion was that the secret to a better life was trying a little bit of Jesus and a little bit of Jack Daniel’s, and leaving out everything in between. I could see me trying that defense at the Pearly Gates.
It seems as if everyone is just a little bit madder, and a little less reasonable, and a little bit less inclined to accept the possibility that maybe, just maybe, they might be wrong about something.
Curt Sapanaugh and Bobby Austin wrote a song for Glen Campbell called “Try a Little Kindness.”
And if you try a little kindness / Then you’ll overlook the blindness / Of narrow-minded people / On their narrow-minded streets.
This song would not chart today.
On Facebook the other day, someone posted a gaudy missive about how people who drive slow on the Interstate in the left lane ought to be executed. I thumbed down the feed. No one seemed inclined to dissent. Just to make a small, insignificant stand for patience and civility, I posted:
Relax. You’ll get there. Go easy.
I don’t think anyone even “liked” it. I imagine my grandmother – she’s been gone 15 years now, and thank God she didn’t live to see this – having a noose placed around her neck as she’s being dragged from her Plymouth Reliant.
“I had my flickers on!”
“Yeah, right, Granny. For fifteen miles! You had every chance to mend your ways.”
Everything is becoming a sport, with the exception that little of it is sporting.
I understand this. I’m this way about sports. I love the Boston Red Sox. I despise the New York Yankees. Some Yankees I respect. I am incapable of liking them as long as they are Yankees. Occasionally, I watch Yankee games but only as long as I think they might lose.
But it’s a sport. It’s a game. Imagine hopscotch played for millions. In spite of the millions, it’s still supposed to be fun.
Kris Kristofferson wrote that “everybody’s got to have somebody to look down on.”
As far as human impulses, ingrained for centuries, toward mindless hatred, sport is a comparatively harmless venue. It’s a rationalization but a fairly good one.
It’s a great time to be a hypocrite here in the land of the free and the home of the brave. Hypocrisy is so prevalent and institutionalized that hypocrites are spending most of their time calling other hypocrites out. Haters hate the haters who hate them.
Freedom is going so wild I’m afraid they’re going to do something about it.
Another way I cobble out a living is with my books, a wide variety of which are available for sale here.
The new novel, my eighth, is called Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.
Lightning in a Bottle is now available in an audio version, narrated by Jay Harper.