Moore Droppings

The name really says it all, don't cha think?

This is my time of year. The sweet smell of spring in the ‘Zarks, bringing warmer temps, folk playing in the park, kids tossing the old frisbee, racking up longer days of sunshine everyday. Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about baby.  Makes me straight-up goober giddy. Truth be told, as a board certified village idiot I always reserve the right to make a total ass of myself laughing out loud in public places and spaces, but the fact that spring has finally sprung and so much earlier this year than usual, takes my breath away. Wow, it is killer-gorgeous outside people! I am even thrilled to welcome the chiggers back for the 2010 season. I might throw them party.

Still, I do find myself slack-jawed stupefied at all the negativity that is perpetually swirling in the gene pool. The ad nauseum snot-slinging between our beloved politicians, which is incestuously followed by the 24/7 gaggle of talk-show swivel-heads and their “we’re gonna tell you what they REALLY said” pretentiousness, is enough to choke even the most dignified buzzard off a gut wagon. They couldn’t possibly peg my I-don’t-give-a-rip meter any higher. With any luck some network executive will soon put up a 24/7 cable news channel called — Watching Paint Dry. I’d be all over that.

Do you know what more and more people think is really fun? Racing home from work in time to flip on Fox News or MSNBC, your choice,  pop bag of Orville’s Extra-Butter Microwave popcorn, slam a six-pack of Bud and spend the night screaming at the TV. Please don’t be offended if I choose not to accompany you on your blood-pressure elevating exercise. It’s nothing personal, I’m just not interested. In spite of the herculean effort from that brain-trust to alter the orbit of the universe, life and things have a way of working out, they always do.  In the meantime you are missing a really nice ‘Zarks springtime.

Here’s the teaching point — Carping in perpetuity is a pointless exercise and only serves to galvanize like-minded dim-wits. So do yourself a favor, flip off the tube, literally and figuratively, grab a frisbee and get the hell out in the backyard. Your annoyance threshold will be limited to chigger bites and swatting an occasional horse fly.

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