Source: A woman, turning
Source: Define Hypocrite
I have been thinking a lot about happiness of late, partially because so many people seem unhappy. I think that was my first epiphany upon entering the world of Social Media; people are unhappy and there are a lot of them. Now don’t get me wrong, we all know some people who wouldn’t be happy, were they not unhappy but I am not talking about them. We will just let them be. I am also not thinking theologically here (i.e. juxtaposing happiness and joy), today I am going to err on the practical and pragmatic side of things. With that being said, let’s get going.
I think most people want to be happy; they are just not quite sure how to get there from their present location. Many people honestly believe that happiness is a lucky bounce; a sunny disposition or favorable circumstances but I disagree. Happiness is a choice…
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When I was a kid, they had this thing called a celebrity roast. People got together and made fun of the guest of honor. It had a weird, rough-handling vibe. I think it may have come from a wise place in someone’s psyche. Celebrities regularly have “smoke blown up their” fundaments. A roast could remind them that they were, in truth, much like everyone else, and…a roast could be funny. Many of them had genuinely funny moments. (Though I think peoples’ feelings were hurt at these things, and the humor got brutal, and thus they lost their cache.)
I remember a comedian named Red Buttons going on and on about how dumb it was to give the guest of honor such a sparkling honorific since a whole lot of more deserving people “never got a dinner.” This morning I want to steal Red Buttons’ routine because I just saw a…
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I refuse to pay for cable TV, which means that I use a simple antenna to get whatever programming flows into the evening. The other night I was wading through the TV wasteland when I came across an old movie I had seen multiple times before. It’s titled Meatballs. It was one of those commercial vehicles that made money for Bill Murray in his younger days. It was much as I remembered it, though there was more sexual harassment and vulgar comedy than I recalled. The big inspirational speech Murray gave at one point was vintage fun, and just as stirring as it was way-back-when.
The film itself did not have much of a story. It was simple-minded, superficial, juvenile–perfectly tuned to the audience it intended to entrap. I wonder now if Murray looks back on some of those scenes (and the ideas behind them) and cringes a little. …
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Since there isn’t anyone reading this blog, I think I will please myself alone and write about MY writer, the writer who wrote things for me, though he may not have known he was writing for a chubby girl in New Mexico. How did he come into my life? I’m not sure. I am almost certain it was by way of my oldest brother Dean McCollaum. Dean was always bringing home books that had been assigned to him in his various colleges, and I was drawn to them–moth to the flame, moth to the flame.
The first one I remember clearly is Cat’s Cradle. It’s really an amazing book, about how things can go just terribly wrong, in a moment. It centers on the idea of helping Marines get out of battling in the mud, an invention that causes water to freeze at much higher temperatures than it does…
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Reading a book is delightful, a long sumptuous meal with good wine and a dessert if you’re really lucky.
Source: Reading a Book