My flogging whip is absolutely warn-out. Could it be that I’m experiencing politico fatigue? The “talking heads” and the politicians themselves are losing their appeal – to me. The word games on both ends are beginning to sound shrill when at least a few once sounded authentically driven by passion.
I’ve heard enough from all sides of the so-called political spectrum on what is wrong with everyone else’s opinion that a strange form of ennui has crept over me. As with too many others in the world, it is easy to become inured of/by/from the political gamesmanship, loose lips, angry voices, whining, accusing, that goes on-and-on-and-on. In other words - would everyone just STFU for a day?
Well, I've been turning the news on TV off - a lot - lately.
Despite very valid, important issues that are on many a nation’s plate of late, disaster/politico/TMI fatigue is inevitable. Why else has a missing cobra become a Twitter celeb? Or the Kar-Cash-Ins become "celebrities." I know I'm not alone in this state of "who cares"?
In the spirit of lightening-up, I’ll wax quasi-literarily on nothing beyond a surface complaint or two; pat my little flogging whip on its triple-lashed end for having done a good job for the past 5 months, and send it to Cool Whip Spa for a few days. After all, Floggy Whip needs to cool off from time-to-time with an anti-bacterial scrub mixed with a leather-handle-mani-pedi-polish.
Spring is here – in the States, at least. Aside from the warm and sunny Jasmine-in-the-air fragrance, I’d know it from the sound of someone hammering or buzz-sawing on something somewhere nearby. And so it begins in the hills of Hollywood where lilacs bloom, little birdies sing, and squirrels bop and climb around in the trees.
One can visualize an early Disney animation with butterflies fluttering beautifully as a faerie twinkles and swirls around it dropping copious amounts of their special dust into an almost hallucinogenic spectrum of rich colours.
In your dreams if you live in my neighborhood nestled into a canyon with most of the houses within mere yards of each other as if the surroundings were of a city street with lots of trees and curvy roads than a hillside retreat! Man, it’s been noisy around here for quite some time. It was quieter in the area where I once spent six months in Manhattan on the West Side at 88th & Riverside Drive than it has been here – for me and a few neighbours.
Imagine that! Manhattan – in my brief experience as a resident – was quieter than LA! The loudest noise I ever heard in the neighborhood was the occasional car alarm. And a week prior to my departure, the sound of crashing glass tinkling down into an alley below the 6th floor abode in which I resided where, unbeknownst to me at that very moment, a woman was flinging herself out of her 7th floor apartment window. True. It didn’t end well. I was a tad rattled. (OMG! OMG! There's a BODY down there! )
But here in the “glamorous” Hollywood Hills, home construction, renovation, fire hazard brush and tree clearing, odd power outages, DWP-required upgrades and a continually barking very disturbed dog with partially absent owners oblivious to a corner of their neighborhood rising up against their arrogant behaviour until public court and private legal action had to be taken, it has been more city than country.
Yes, it’s peaceful in these here hills…at 3:00 A.M. Unless, that is, Chris Brown is your neighbour:
http://hothits957.radio.com/2011/03/29/chris-brown-is-a-bad-neighbor/
(Not one of mine, thank God!)
god does he have a bigdick
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