Of Cigars, Cars, and the End of the World
Do me a favor would you? Check out my man at http://www.sigcar.blogspot.com. His site is called Smell My Finger. It’s a guy smoking and reviewing cigars (when he’s not working on raising a 15 month old son). I came across the site totally by accident; I had just logged off after entering a post and the Blogger homepage was scrolling through various blogs. I saw Smell My Finger come up…yeah…what would you do? I’m just glad I didn’t grow up in a cold climate because I think I would’ve been that kid with his tongue stuck to the pump handle.

So I start reading this blog and his reviews are thoughtful and the child-rearing challenges sounded very familiar. Then I noticed his comment on the last post about no one but the Spiders from Mars reading. I’m old enough to know a David Bowie reference when I hear it (that’s right kids…and Paul McCartney was in a band before Wings too). So I had to enter a comment. No one should be that thorough and not be appreciated. If you’re looking for that perfect stogie for the weekend, drop by and read his reviews. When I figure out this link crap, I’m putting it up here too (although, as I told him—that aint exactly gonna open the flood gates). I’ve sort of elbowed my way into a group of funny and thought-provoking bloggers who are nice enough to say kind things from time to time. That’s all that it takes, isn’t it? Like a smart philosopher said recently…it’s the little things…hope you’re okay Fuzzball.

Memo to the guy driving behind me the other day: this is not NASCAR. How do I know? Well, we’ve made some RIGHT turns and neither you nor I have decals all over our cars. Stop drafting. And yes, I can see you got the Dodge Neon tricked out but really, I got a baby seat in the back of my car, I got a mortgage and life insurance payments—I’m not gonna swap paint with you.

Finally, I was speaking with a colleague today who lives in Birmingham, Alabama. She asked how we fared through the last hurricane and we talked about the monster buzzsaw in the gulf right now. The she said something interesting:

“jemison,” she asked, “do you think it’s the end of the world?”

I’m pretty sure she was joking but I know what she means. There is this general malaise hanging over everyone these days like the stale smell of cigars after closing time. War, natural disasters, evacuees, destruction and a government spending money like a drunken sailor—money my daughter will have to pay back to China someday. What can we do to turn things around? My modest suggestions: vote; volunteer; be creative; be generous; play nice with everyone else—even the punk kid tailgating you in traffic. Be that person your pet thinks you are—or your two year old thinks you are. Show self-control. Because like that eminent philosopher Sir Paul McCartney said:

And in the end, the love you take,
Is equal to the love you make.

[UPDATE] Imagine my suprise when I opened the NY Times this morning and found Paul Krugman talking about the same thing. Not cigars or a punk kid tailing him but the state of the American psyche. Only difference: he calls it the loss of confidence. Hmmmmm. Paul Krugman and little ole me writing about the same thing on the same day. Maybe it is endtimes...

When the world is running down,
you make the best of what's still around.
The Police