maudlin [mawd-lin] adj. 1. tearfully or weakly emotional; foolishly sentimental: a maudlin story of a little orphan and her lost dog 2. foolishly or mawkishly sentimental because of drunkenness
Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson (1824), Christian Dior (1905), Benny Hill (1924), Wolfman Jack (1938), Jack Nicklaus (1940), Plácido Domingo (1941), Richie Havens (1941), Edwin Starr (1942), Jill Eikenberry (1947), Billy Ocean (1950), Paul Allen (1953), Robby Benson (1956), Geena Davis (1956), Charlotte Ross (1968), Cat Power (1972)
Thankfully, I’m not as angry as I was yesterday. I normally don’t allow the moronic workings of the world invade my brain but, for whatever reason, last night was an exception.
And, truly, I’ve no real reason to complain. I don’t do much in the way of helping any of these national problems get better. And that’s to say I don’t much at all.
So, I’ve got no business griping. You might even say I’m part of the problem. Due to cosmic circumstances completely out of my control, I was born into what would eventually become an upper class family. And, traditionally, that means I should be using the advantages I’ve been afforded to help out whenever I can. But I don’t.
And so I’m culpable and I’m at peace with that. Really. I spend a lot of time thinking and I’ve consciously orchestrated my life in such a way that I’m more than OK to fly under the radar.
But what I’m not doing is taking my life, and those things that work best for me, and applying it to anyone else. I guess what I’m getting at here is I’ve no particular beef with government. What makes my skull rattle is political ideology and, more so, the practice of those ideologies.
So when I read about this victory for the GOP or that victory for the Democrats, well, it makes my fucking blood boil. This country is so busy fighting with itself, while simultaneously fighting with entire other nations. So when I envision future scenarios, none of it makes me considerably chipper.
At this point, you might be asking what I’m going to do about all of this.
Nothing. That’s what I do. Or don’t do. Shit. Now I’m all turned around.
We are all esquires now, and we are none of us gentlemen any more. → Samuel Johnson
→ Anyone who’s driven on, ridden on or even casually observed The Schuylkill Expressway will completely understand why it’s been rated the 20th worst commute in the nation. 205 hours of weekly congestion? That’s 27 more hours than are actually in a week.
→ Nichelle Nichols, Lt. Uhuru from the original Star Trek, was actually talked out of leaving the show after the first season by Dr. Martin Luther King. Reading her recollection of it is pretty amazing.
→ It’s nice to see former ballplayers coming out against steroid-using dipshit Mark McGwire. Read what legendary Red Sox catcher Carlton Fisk has to say to both McGwire and Roger Clemens. Go, Pudge.