Tuesday, July 29, 2014

injaynesworld here are “10 Things I Can't Do Without…”

This week’s summer heat and humidity have my brain feeling like a tissue that’s been forgotten in the pocket of your favorite jeans after they’ve been put through the wash.  There are all kinds of things going on in the world that I could raise a ruckus about, but I can barely raise myself off the couch.     

So, in lieu of putting together a series of cohesive thoughts, here are ten things that (at this particular time and subject to change) I cannot do without.  For argument’s sake, let’s just agree that electricity, indoor plumbing and, at the moment, air-conditioning, are a given. 

1  Dark Chocolate:  There are few things in life that can’t be made better with dark chocolate.  If necessary, I could live on it. 

Alcohol (including, but not limited to):  Wine:  Preferably a Grenache/Syrah blend or a fruity Viognier served with, you guessed it, dark chocolate.   Cold beer:  Corona (cases of it).

3  Friends:  The ones who love me not only despite all my flaws, but because of them.

4  Coffee:  French roast, please, with a bit of half-and-half.

5  Books:  By writers who are much, much better than I am.  Fortunately, there is no shortage of these. 

6  Horses:  That a 1,000 pound creature will allow me to sit on its back and do what I ask when it could just as easily buck me off and stomp me into the ground never fails to humble me. 

7  My fur babies, Dixie and Mason:  Anyone who lives without an animal in their life is beyond my understanding and quite possibly a sociopath. 

8  Netflix Streaming:  I had no idea that I couldn’t live without this until I got it.  Currently, binge-watching “House of Cards.” 

9  Money:  I’m not greedy.  I’d be happy with enough to meet all my needs and some to spare and to share… And maybe influence a few elections.

10 E-mail:  Without which I would actually have to speak to people. 

Coming soon:  “10 Things I Don’t Give A Rat’s Ass About.”

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

injaynesworld it’s “A Plea to the Y Chromosome…”

What is it about human nature that drives us to enjoy killing each other so damn much?   We’ve been coming up with new and more efficient methods since man first walked upright, and our penchant for aggression and violence seems only to be growing. 

Recently, Utah Republican lawmaker Paul Ray announced that he wants to bring back the firing squad for the death penalty in that state and is planning to introduce a bill to do so come next January. 

Yes.  By all means.  Let’s finally confirm once and for all to the rest of the world that we are, indeed, a bunch of trigger-happy Neanderthals.   I’m sure it will come as no surprise to anyone.  I understand that our zoos are suffering a budget crunch.  How about just throwing them to the lions?  And I have no doubt that there are those who would pay to watch such a show, too.

In fairness, there are few countries that can claim the high ground when it comes to developing ways to wipe out our fellow man.  The guillotine was a particular favorite at one time.  Kudos to you, France.  But for sheer numbers, I believe we still hold the record with Hiroshima.  USA!

I have a theory.

It all goes back to that Saturday that God promised Mrs. God he would take the entire weekend off to rest, having just spent an exhausting five days creating the world.  Mrs. God’s back wasn’t turned ten minutes, when God got what he thought was a genius of an idea. 

“Just running to the store, honey.” 

Whereupon God spent the day working on what He was sure would be His greatest creation ever:  Mankind.

He could not wait to tell Mrs. God, bask in the glory of her praise and, who knows, maybe even get a little nookie that night.  However, much to His dismay, His wife’s eyes only widened in horror as He recounted the details of His creation.

“You did what?!” she shouted.  “Two testicles and only one brain?!  O.M.G!  What were you thinking?!”  

Yes.  It’s true.  God caught hell.  And, needless to say, went nookie-less for quite some time to come.

I tell this tale not to malign my sensitive, intelligent, peace-loving male readers.  Truly, there is not an asshole among you and I cherish you all.  But even you, I believe, will admit that it is most commonly the male of the species seeking dominance that is responsible for most conflicts and bloodshed in this world.  You will seldom find a woman suggesting the lobbing of missiles willy-nilly into an area that may contain one terrorist, but most surely contains a shitload of innocent civilians.

Men like to complain about how women yak, yak, yak all the damn time.  Yes.  We do. We like to Talk. Things. Out.  No one ever died because of a conversation, not even of boredom as is frequently suggested. 

When I look at the current state of the world:  Warfare in the Ukraine, continued massacres in Syria, drug lords killing children in Central America, the brutal kidnappings of young girls in Nigeria, and when I watch the rise of gun violence here at home (last weekend 40 people shot in Chicago, including one 11-year-old girl who died), and then look at those in charge of propagating all this savagery (exhale)… not a vagina among them do I find. 

It’s no longer enough to say “boys will be boys.”  Those among you who are the good guys – and I know there are a lot of you – have got to start taking a stronger stand against the ones who are besmirching your entire gender.  Do it with your voice.  Do it with your vote.  Do it with your donations.   Do it in how you raise your sons.   And if you’re doing all that, do more. 


If all this sounds unfair, I’m sorry.  But right now I have to agree with Mrs. God.  One testicle would have been enough. 

Disclaimer: There are women who can be just as aggressive, violent, and brutal as men.  Certainly, they can be just as stupid.  There is no accounting for Sarah Palin. 

Thursday, July 17, 2014

injaynesworld "Look, But Don't Touch..."

I cannot hear rain drops on my rooftop without remembering my mother’s pearl necklace. Given to her by my father on their wedding day and worn only on very special occasions, it was kept nestled in a blue velvet pouch in the bottom drawer of her vanity under her delicately scented handkerchiefs.

I knew better than to ever go into that drawer, but one wet, winter day when I was six years old and bored with being inside, I decided to play dress-up and there was nothing dressier to me than that string of precious pearls.

The tiny, silver clasp would not give way to my clumsy, young fingers and so, in frustration, I tried pulling the necklace on over my head. I can still recall the sound of those pearls as they hit, bounced, and scattered across the wooden floor and the look on my mother’s face when she entered the room, as rain thundered down on the roof above.

This post is in response to the prompt “rain” at Five Sentence Fiction.  

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