[Tethered] again, my tears have stopped falling
The long lonely nights are now at an end
The key to my heart, you hold in your hand,
And nothing else matters, we are tethered again.
(Adapted from Together Again, 1964, Buck Owens)
It all came to us from sinister minds, served up on platters of gold and silver. What is it? Just this: Life becomes precious as we near the finish line. And we are also willing to add a few more days or weeks to our allotted times with an assortment of devices that can give us those additional days. EMT teams are on call 24/7; our meals are delivered to us from afar; oxygen is pumped into us from canisters to keep our lungs full; life support IV’s are stuck in our veins; portable urinals are at our beck and call; side bars keep us from falling out of bed; walkers and canes keep us upright; a dozen or more pills keep our vital data within limits; grab bars stop us from falling; land and internet phones keep our mobility constrained; gps units track our location; lights come on and go off by movement detectors; and tasers protect us from intruders. OK, I added that last protection device just to keep you and me awake.
We’re on the downhill slide of life heading for oblivion as long as we keep dollars flowing to our profit-making groups who can and do provide us with all the aforementioned life support gadgets and systems necessary to sustain us for a few extra days—until the tethering jams up and stops us cold while standing on the last treadmill of life.
So what have we accomplished? Is life so precious that we will seek out the very last gizmo just so we can watch one more episode of America’s Got Talent? I’ll rephrase that to “catch a glimpse of Heidi Klum in her tiniest bikini?”
If your third best answer is to keep the Grim Reaper away, then I have some great news for you. According to the most believable source known to man or beast, there is no such place as hell. That is just a gimmick shoveled into the minds of the brethren to keep them close to the flock and paying into the coffers of another mortal until your last drop of blood, sweat, or tears hits the bucket. If you are placing your hard earned cash into the collection plate of a TV preacher, you are probably supporting someone who lives in a $20 million dollar mansion, who flies hither and yon in a private jet, wears $5,000 dollar suits, sports a 5 carat diamond ring on each finger, and keeps $100 million in reserve just to satisfy his urges of the moment. If that is you with the cash, then I have a bridge that is for sale. Cheap. And some swamp land in Florida. What’s more, rumor has it that the alligators are getting very choosy about who they devour.
Personally, I keep a Fifth of Jack Daniels nearby to fight off the demons. Plus a CD featuring the soothing voice of Melody Gardot, and a foot massager to keep my feet alive and well just in case I need to make a dash for something, or change my mind. If you happen to like Buck Owens, he died years ago—and you have poor taste in music.
Dear, dear Ed! You always make my day and inspire me, certainly with your latest pic of gorgeous Heidi whose discipline inspires this 78-year-old jock and gym monkey to keep on moving it (lots and lots of stretching these days, for sure - ang gentler workouts; much, much gentler. Grateful I can still do it...
You and Ron have the right idea about final sleep and I'm with you. I'm presently writing a piece or book ("Countdown") most aware that's what it is and, more than ever, doing my best to make the most of each day and staying positive. Living in a senior building in Boston that looks more like a nursing home every day, certainly inspires me to keep on truckin' and do whatever I can to "make someone's day" if I possibly can. I'm grateful for you and Ron, who is most inspirational to me and has been for years. I love you, guys!
Some great advice for those inclined to spend money on medical professionals, gadgets, gurus and lost causes.
I plan to go quietly in my sleep. But when things get difficult to bear, I have arranged for hospice to come to my rescue. I will have them make sure that all of my bodily needs are taken care of during this brief period before my final sleep. For pain, I will ask to be drugged to the point where the pain goes away but I am still able to dream.
Since I am a man (a woman should also have her special request) I would like hospice to provide me with a Heidi Kuhn look-alike to help with my entertainment beyond TV shows like AGT and the Secret Life of Housewives, etc. There's nothing like the real thing to rev up a memory or experience, if you still have enough money to afford it.
Stories Worth Wiping Your A** With
Whether you're making a deposit at the stank bank, dropping a return at the squat shop, or conducting a brown business meeting, these perfectly timed tales provide the literary fragrance your privacy deserves. F
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics, Part II is adult literature featuring adult language and situations that satirizes thirteen famous novellas and short stories. It is Jay Dubya's sixteenth ebook.
