Drugs, Thugs, Mugs. And shots.

At least, the death panels are alive and kicking.

Well, the conversation is certainly changing for the watered-down-and-water-logged worse. And that does nothing to make it righter than before.

Yep. Somebody’s fingerprints ARE all over it. But whose? The sad part is that “this” is really nothing new. And has gotten person-specifically worse.

And. No. I don’t approve.

The stakes are too high because the steaks are too high. And the steaks are too high because the stakes are too high.

I just wish I was good looking because that would solve everything. But until that time comes or doesn’t (hint-I an’t getting any younger, are you?) I painfully ask the leaders suffering from HSICS to stop playing the societal bribe and release game.

Oops.

I am sorry HSICS stands for: High School In Crowd Syndrome. As in the crowd who when they said, “ The dog ate my homework” the adults actually believed it and beautiful people won! Won the argument. And and the rest of us, whose dog actually DIED at the hands of the HSICS, after you stop eating beagles’ brains alive, or before, (I prefer before but realize I am clearly running with the wrong crowd.) Stop the approvals, pay backs and “repairs” and remodels.

Although admirable, throwing the towel in or throwing the tarp on the TARP is actually causing more suffering and hardship. Again, I find your strategy, invigorating but exhausting. Perhaps that was the plan all along. O.k. O.k.

My emotional health animal cannot fly anymore, my dog is starving, my frog cannot leap anymore, so how much do I care anyway.

A lot.

Btw. Are the kids back in their desks at school yet. I did not think so. Yet, another casualty of the HSICS. Heck. Isn’t the way it goes— the leaders in this crowd all marry one another and keep “it in the family” anyway. What is the reason for reaching out now? Perhaps a touch of conscience that you made it to the pinnacles of life— no matter how. Good for you. What happened along the way?

“By nature, superior men subdue inferior ones as they subdue lower beings or try to improve them as they please”, wrote Angelo Codevilla in America’s Ruling Class.

Yikes.

Played your hand and ran out of rational excuses? Worst of all. Lied to yourselves and then to us about who was “hot”. Or “cool”. I confess I really do not know the difference. The halls were crowded enough with the tumescent heads roaming around but we at least we had an excuse.

Adolescence.

Whew. Today. Is a whole nother legislative ally effort filled gab fest of admissions—although not college ones- are they back in desks on campus, yet? Just askin’ Inflection up-You’re “In”. Inflection down, you’re “out”…. I approve of your approval, send me the bill later before you lose another body part to a new, upcoming scientifically engineered bug floatin’ around.

Out of luck. For what? To have access to, well, the pills, powders and energy drinks that make a school day, night bearable. Brought here by the nice, albeit, desperate families crossing the lines of promise and hope. Oftentimes, or not, unsure what is in their bags and backpacks, in their trunk. Paying with their lives for a chance, their way into the Land of Opportunity.

The Land of Opportunity was not meant for this journey or practice. And if the kids were allowed into their classroom for a clear, concise history lesson they would know this. The Land of Opportunity was not meant to mean: The Land of Drugs, Thugs and Mugs. And shots. As a way to get from here to there. Or anywhere.

It is a shame and shameful to invite a person into your space and then literally charge them an arm and a leg to pay for it. Once and if they make it to a bed, hospital or otherwise- maimed from the journey, and unable to walk. Or talk. Even articulate or say what they need or mean. Because life has been a repeated journey of a life of “hard knocks” Slammed doors, Bloodied knuckles.. What next?

The other arm and leg.

My emotional health animal cannot fly anymore, my dog is still hungry and my frog cannot leap anymore. Are you happy now? O.k. O.k. What IS the direct line to the Death Panel.?

Which “circles us back around” to where? You guessed correctly. The Death Panels. Who gets to be on THOSE panels? The HSICS because they generously planned to pave the way for the rest of us—with their expertise about the pills, powders and energy drinks. Through personal experience?

I do not approve. I do know how I feel about it. I graciously say to the HSICS:

Thank you for you time and efforts. But. No thank you.

We really do appreciate you and always have appreciated you. Now. Can I please have a cookie? I will even take a dog’s cookie. I am not proud, picky, and I know a dog readily shares their life. Always ready, willing and able (until word of the the brain eating thing came out). Able albeit a little too innocently (yeah yeah, we know you know HSICS that dogs cannot talk.) Played your hand on that one didn’t you. But they can bite. In the interest of defense and shared harmony. And they will. Bite back.

Hard.

My dog knows a thing or two about taking it on the chin. We talked a lot in high school. He waited at home for me. Nose pressed on the glass, tail wagging.

Not one of us want to be in pain. Present, Past. Future. But to play the Death Panel “Call Game” game is a whole nother thing. Because over indulging in anything really results in nothing good coming of it. Kids allowed to live and learn this with rational adults paving the way of truth honor and a wait your turn mentality used to be a “thing” An adult thing, an adulting thing. Now. No one really cares to say.

Street smart v.Book smart v Smart smart. It all comes down to the same thing. A conscience. Actually agree with the if you see something say something. You might be wrong, but at least you spoke up. Wake woke or whatever.

A really smart kid once wrote to me, “Silence is sorrow’s slave.

Yep. He learned that while reading and doing homework after school. About dogs.

It is scientifically true that if you stuff it down too much or too long it only has one way to go. Up. Or out. On the one hand, (if you still have a working one) that sounds good. On the other hand who wants that. Good or bad. Either way it does not or should not require sacrificing another part to get there.

I am guessing we are running out of those too. Parts is parts. Old. New. Young. Used.

At the rate things are going,

Will their be any rational ones left?

Perhaps rationally consider an “attitude adjustment”, you know in the interest of “health care”. Paying it forward versus reparations. Hmmmmm.

If for no other reason that to keep it “real”.

Attitude Adjustment (not by a physical bone manipulator) Conceptualization includes not one, but THREE “3” types of YIELDING (not counting the fourth “4” most important one, the container—The brain—however that is for future discussion)

1)Compliance

2)Identification

3)Internalization.

Explore the numerous message characteristics. Have fun with the homework. Keep it real. Most important. Keep it rational.