Pep Rally – GRINNIN’ IDIOTS

Cheer up. Things could be worse. OH NO. I said the jinx words! Whenever you say “Things could be worse” or its doubly jinxed twin “How much worse could they get?” … they get worse. Guaranteed. Because the Fickle Finger of Fate is ever busy, seeking fools who lack the sense to just shut up.

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Who needs a pep talk? Right now, ME. I need a pep talk. I have the chest cold from Hell. I’m looking forward to a heart valve replacement, not to mention doing something about that nasty old cardiomyopathy. We are perpetually broke because (gasp!) Social Security doesn’t actually give you enough to live on and even including a couple of pitiful pensions from Garry’s former employers and AFTRA, we barely scrape by on a good month and don’t scrape by on the rest.

If I really look at where we are at, I could get discouraged. At this precise moment, I’ve taken enough medication that nothing is going to affect me much. I’m just buzzing with chemical joy. But when it wears off? Oy vay. It will all come rushing back and remind me that life basically sucks. But there are high points — for which we live.

High points? Having a vacation so abysmal that it morphs from dreadful, to humorous, to absurd, to downright funny. Okay, my back is still out from sleeping on an ancient lumpy futon, but having light-hearted anecdotes to post on this blog makes it (almost) not matter. At least not much.

Pep talk? You never know when something horrible will transform into anecdotal material of exceptionally high quality. No matter how hideous the experience, I can usually retell it as a hilarious story. Death? Disaster? Disease? The Triple Dog Dare of survival? Just fodder for the mill.

Cheer up you stupidhead. It’s going to get worse before it gets better, but you’ll find a way to laugh your way through it, until you choke, unable to draw a breath and actually die. Be of good cheer! Really! God’s watching. And laughing his ass off, if he has an ass. Have any philosophers delved into that particular mystery? No? Why not?

I feel better already. I think I’ll take some more of whatever I took earlier. That was vintage stuff and it’s definitely cheering me up. There’s no crying in baseball and no crying around here, by golly. We smile all the time. Just call us The Grinnin’ Idiots.

Have a good day now y’hear?

Author: Marilyn Armstrong

Writer, photography, blogger. Previously, technical writer. I am retired and delighted to be so. May I live long and write frequently.

19 thoughts on “Pep Rally – GRINNIN’ IDIOTS”

  1. Don’t’ have any good drugs, ha ha-nor any extra $$, and this is an old, old joke, maritime-related.

    Way down upon the Mississippi, two tugboat captains who had been friends for years, would always cry “Aye!” and blow their whistles whenever they passed each other.
    A new crewman asked his boat’s mate, “What do they do that for?”
    The mate looked surprised and replied, “You mean that you’ve never heard of… an aye for an aye and a toot for a toot?”

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  2. Oh my Marilyn! I am here to tell you that YOU have inspired me on so many occasions with your wit, humor and intelligence, not to mention these photographs which lighten my life. We are all mortal and each have our own trials. Wrap yourself around Garry and remember that so many love you! You have the courage to speak here and allow us to encourage you.

    The cold will pass grudgingly and you will prevail because you are made of strong stock!
    BIG hug!

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        1. Right now, a feather pillow might do me in, but I am better today. So is Garry. I think the siege is beginning to lift. AND there’s a game tonight at Fenway. That always helps. Well, if we win it helps.

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