by Al Van Dyk | Aug 12, 2020 | Light and Fluffy
Let’s get Vertical, Vertical…
~O. Newton-John (paraphrased)
In our quasi-civilized sociality, it is still considered a social faux pa when people tip over as spontaneously as the cows in a field in East Lansing. With few exceptions, getting and staying vertical during an MSU football game, playing a game of dodge ball, or the playing of our national anthem, the expectation of verticality still holds.
Props to You
I find myself using more props than I used to. I may lean against a wall or a piece of furniture to steady myself in a pose that looks natural, and projects an image that it is I that is keeping the wall from falling or stopping the furniture from going rogue. But it’s not only for selfish reasons that like to stay vertical. Occasionally, I think about how my disease will impact others, how it makes them feel. How my elephant and I can make others feel uneasy.
I doubt that I am alone. There must be more of us that need a prop to look natural while performing routine tasks. For those of us that struggle with equilibrium, a kneeling bench at the gas pump just may be the perfect solution that allows me to blend in with the penitent few, those that feel the need to call attention to their angst over climate change.
Go, Team!
Sure, image is essential, but equally important is one’s desire and ability to remain socially active and accessible. That is where props are useful and necessary. Whether you and your squad need your fix COVID 19 stats or college football but now your options on the big screens at BW3 are limited to watching reruns of the Not-So-Big–10 Network, a prop will keep you in the center of the action. Strategically placed leather recliners and overstuffed bean bag chairs, meticulously sanitized and painstakingly repositioned to maintain the social distancing protocols after each guest’s binge-a-thon, are a sure way to keep the enabled and disabled, engaged yet divided.
We are no different — those of us that have mobility issues still need a sense of community, a place where we can test the boundaries of mischief and mayhem, and dare to insinuate, to plan our next pillage and plunder. There is must be more than we can do than sitting idly by, indulging in yet another bottomless bowl of chips and dip, while providing much-needed commentary and rational thought concerning the latest public policy quagmire,
Props need not be divisive or partisan, appealing to a particular constituency. If social norms dictate that people are vertical, then those expectations must be met. A Life Alert button that plays the national anthem and simultaneously delivers a zap on par with licking the posts of a car battery is a sure hit among many demographics appealing to both the activist and the chronically sedentary.
Sharks Welcome
Where there is an unmet need, there will soon be demand, and demand breeds opportunity. Herein lies the tension between my inner-capitalist and my budding humanitarian leanings. The capitalist sees it as an opportunity to exploit, while the advocate within thinks props belong in the public domain.
I certainly wouldn’t begrudge a visionary capitalist who saw an unmet need, invested his toil and treasure into addressing that need, partnered with a Shark who later sold their interests for a hefty profit. Who knows; maybe the loss of college football has a silver lining.
We have a prop for that! maybe the catchphrase of the big thing.
Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing.
Ivy is lamenting the loss of college football. She just threw a yellow flag. Got it, I was just given this editorial clarification. MSU refers to Michigan State University, not Mississippi State University. Sorry, Sparty!
Al and his faithful, but grieving sidekick, Ivy the Wonder Pup.
That’s a pretty deep question, Ivy. Are you asking, “If a cow tips over in a field in East Lansing and there is no football season, is it still recorded as spontaneous?”
You got me on that one, pup.
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by Al Van Dyk | Jul 21, 2020 | Light and Fluffy
Essentially, Non-Essential
All animals are equal. Some are more equal than others.
G. Orwell, Animal Farm; 1944
Who is keeping you out? Who is it that told you that you were non-essential? Was it an ineffective supervisor, an ego-centric bureaucrat, or maybe even a braggadocios family member? If it feels like it’s a slam, it is. It’s a twist on an age-old problem. How efficiently and effectively can one group of people influence public opinion in a way that makes the others look and feel sub-human? We are free to get a second opinion, are we not? Doesn’t everyone deserve a chance to be included in the in-group?
It really isn’t an exclusive club, we can self-designate. We can simply declare ourselves to be essential, and wha-la, we are. Of course, there is a form that the state will require, a DNA sample to collect and a fee that they will need to pry from our hands. But to the best of my knowledge, there are no entrance exams, no jack-booted thugs checking credentials, no stooges tracking our movements. My apologies if I offended any thugs or stooges, whether they are jack-booted or are sporting the latest in thong footwear. I suppose that even thugs and stooges need affirmation now and then.
If it seems too easy to join, maybe because it is. In George Orwell’s classic book Animal Farm, words, phrases, and their meaning are frequently changed by those in power to keep firmly them ensconced in their roles. It still happens today.
Undeniably, Big Brother and the thought leaders of our day, who with their lofty titles clamored that they were essential, got everything wrong. From the simple arithmetic used in their forecasting models to the belief that we middle-class peasants would heed their advice and ready ourselves for the next self-inflicted wound; they were wrong. Now proven to be demonstrably inept and blatantly deceitful, they lack the moral clarity to deliver just the facts in a manner that’s believable and actionable. Yet they still hold office or are given an audience to those who do. Meanwhile, their groupies in the media are off to the public relations quagmire so they remain essential.
In the information age, those that control the dialog will control the agenda. Now is the time solidify the definition of the word essential by speaking truth into non-sense by providing concrete examples that will silence that feckless supervisor, ego-centric bureaucrat, or braggadocios family member once and for all. Here are a few things to consider if you need validation that you are in fact essential.
- If you get up every day and strive for self-sufficiency, work to feed your family, educate, and ground them in your faith…you are essential.
- If a member of the elite, ask you to do something not for the public good but for their self-interests that is in violation of an edict, and you refuse…you are essential.
- If you are helping someone file an unemployment claim, and because of your tenacity, you were able to reach a human…you are essential.
- If your job is to perform to sign language, translating to hearing-impaired the idiosyncrasies of your states’ latest Shelter in Place directives, but feel compelled to allow your hands and fingers to go rogue and communicate a message of their own… you are essential.
- If you hold a job at an essential retailer, a dispensary, you open before noon for those who prefer to spend their waking hours in a chemically induced fog as a coping mechanism to dull the pain from just about everything…you are essential.
- If you have held a job or owned a business and have been able to balance a checkbook since you had a paper route, your business acumen exceeds that of the ruling class…you are essential.
- If you think that there is an absence of civil discourse…you are essential.
- If you disagree with the conventional wisdom, that moving about in an open and free society is a sure-fire way to get you an audience with the Grim Reaper…you are essential.
- If you learned that there are times that you need to turn off the TV so the mindless blather stops…you are essential.
- If you only buy the amount of toilet paper that you can reasonably consume during the next decade…you are essential.
Thanks for your patience. I know I ran a little long. Occasionally, we all need the affirmation that we are relevant, capable, and yes, even essential.
—<>—
Thanks for reading, liking and sharing,
We will have to give Ivy a break on this one. She got stymied by the first sentence. As a therapy dog, she sees herself as a first responder of sorts.
Al and his faithful, but ever-vigilant sidekick, Ivy the Wonder Pup
I don’t think snakes will ever be equal to a retriever, Ivy. They are just raw material for a new pair of boots.
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by Al Van Dyk | Apr 6, 2020 | Light and Fluffy
Shelter In Place for Dummies
Maybe the President needs a PR firm to convince people that this silent storm, this pandemic, is the real deal. The messaging could be something catchy like “We need to fix the d#%m roads!” only include some light-and-fluffy verbiage that will make people feel safe.
I was unsure what to expect after the Governor’s crippling mandate considering her entire campaign can be summed up with a single talking point, It’s time to fix the d#%m roads. Now that the shelter in place order is in effect, whether the roads are pristine or in a state of disrepair, d#%med or otherwise, we lack the freedom to travel and to enjoy the places those roads can take us, and the ability to connect with those we care about. When we are told we must stay home and away from other people, in essence, we are told we must accept an unfamiliar definition of freedom.
Having spent the better part of my first week home and in place, I thought I would feel empty and unproductive. On the contrary, I decided to make the most of my sequester by embracing Ferris Bueller’s mindset. The weather was too nice to let my time go to waste. So what did I do? I took walks with my wife and son, and of course, the Wonder Pup, I haven’t seen much of my son these past few months with all of the long hours I have been putting in. The fact that he shaved his head is leading me to believe that either I am completely out of touch or he has too much time on his hands.
Nothing is as simple as it was even a month ago. A quick trip to the local Stuff Mart requires advanced planning to ensure we hit the trample-free hours of 8:00-9:00 AM — the hour that is reserved for the elderly and disabled. Hang-tags are optional, of course. I’m afraid that I would confuse my son if we were to hit the corner liquor store or the local dispensary and stock up on staples that the government identified as “essential.”
It must be the idea that is still throwing me off; that I am not permitted to move about freely, even if it’s for my own safety and the safety of others. Keeping up with all the warnings is a full-time activity in its self. I am told that I am not in a high-risk group, but it’s difficult to know for certain. To adopt a mindset that the cardboard box that my Cocoa Puffs came in could kill me before the sugar and the preservatives in the cereal will, requires a new way of thinking, that in itself, could help me embrace my diet. Nonetheless, I am open to change and if this is what it means to shelter in place, I will certainly do my part.
It might help if I could feel safer. Perhaps I would feel differently if the plastic bubble I bought to protect my investment portfolio would have shown up a few months earlier. Maybe, if it was sourced from someplace other than the birthplace of the virus, and if it was shipped in something different from a virus encrusted container along with other virus-covered boxes, and hand-delivered by a virus exposed package delivery service.
It was Rohm Emanuel, an Obama hack, who offered this advice to those seeking public office, Never let a crisis go to waste! This past week, the lemmings did just that — politicizing their message to pit neighbor against neighbor and state against state. It was naive to think that a few trillion dollars of pork will buy unity and bipartisanship. Instead, the stage is set with the same shameless cast of characters, promising oversight, moral clarity, all cloaked in righteous indignation.
I wonder how differently people would heed the warnings if the political grandstanding were shelved, the t-shirts are put back in the dresser drawers, and a message of hope and comfort is extended to those that are hurting and feel helpless. The campaign slogans will keep for another year; as will the condition of the d#%m roads. If they haven’t gotten better during the past decade, I find it hard to believe that regurgitating a talking point will do the trick. If nothing else, maybe its time for a new generation of bean counters. They can start by peeling off a few billion dollars to fix the d#%m website so the recently unemployed can file a claim. Chances are, they’re working with their own idea of what’s essential.
Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing,
I apologize for the coarse language used by the Pup. She wanted to forcefully emphasize a point but is still a little fuzzy on the definition of essential.
Al and this faithful, but clemency-seeking sidekick, Ivy the Wonder Pup.
I can see why you’re confused, pup. The lines between essential and criminally prosecutable are fine; and blurry. No pun intended.
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by Al Van Dyk | Feb 26, 2020 | Light and Fluffy
He is different, It isn’t like there is something missing…I don’t see the thing that makes him…him. It’s almost like he’s…average. I hope he didn’t sell it, his soul, that is, to take his new job. I admit I have been eating a little more than I have in the past, but I don’t think that’s what he did. I would eat the table scraps if he let me.
It could be something else, maybe it’s the struggle of getting into a new routine, or he is running late because I hid his keys again, or he is sulking because he couldn’t find a holster for his walker. This is different; I can’t put my paw on anything specific. I can’t believe that he sold his soul just for a few bags of Beggin Strips.
I must be jumping to conclusions, something I need to quit doing — these days I have a hard enough time jumping on the couch. I need to be rational. It’s not like there is a market for worn souls on eBay. Besides, l don’t know who would want that thing being so used and all. I know he has a lot left in it; time that is. Sure, I know where it’s been. I have been with him my whole life. I know he had a life before me, rumor has it he even had another dog. He is consumed with time these days, but People-time doesn’t work for me. I barely understand it. Who needs a watch anyway. It either time to eat, time to sleep, or it isn’t.
I don’t understand why anyone would want more than one soul anyway. I’m pretty sure that everyone gets a free one when they come into this world. I can share mine with him, even if it’s a little different from his. When I’m gone, it’s gone; well, sort of. His will last forever. I have no idea how many candles that is; all I know is that I better have the guys from Fire House Subs ready to roll. That reminds me, I better see if they deliver.
I’m not complaining, I like being his sidekick. He tells me everything, well, most things; for sure, the things that he thinks I can handle. Come to think of it. He still hasn’t shared his Manifesto with me or told me why Paul had to die…or explained what exactly is a walrus. An artic flippered mammal’ really? Maybe he isn’t telling me as much as I think he is. I still don’t know what to make of all these petty things. I guess he is entitled to a few secrets
Maybe something isn’t missing after all. Could it be he’s finally at peace? Maybe that’s what’s missing, all that stress he’s been lugging around so long. I hope that’s the case; then my job is easy, I’ll have to take him for a walk and to get him back writing. I don’t want to be the only dog at the park with a person who doesn’t know the meaning of hard work; or worse, someone who could easily be swayed to vote for Bernie. It takes a lot of persuading on my part to get people to believe…that…my person is just an average Joe. He thinks he’s so much more. Most days, so do I.
Thanks for reading and sharing.
Ivy the Wonder Pup, a friend to many, a sidekick to one.
Hey Daddio, when do I get to read your Manifesto?
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by Al Van Dyk | Oct 6, 2019 | Light and Fluffy
I blame my disease on the Russians. There, the secret is out, I said it. Until they are proven innocent, my claim stands. Maybe Congress or CNN will investigate my claim. There has to be a headline there; a morsel of food to throw out to a hungry and angry world. I’m sure I am not the only victim. I suspect that it was my entire generation they had in their sights.
Was it the heinous Boris Badenov and Natasha Fatale who orchestrated this dastardly deed? Who knew and when did they know? Did they report to Khrushchev; have a direct line to JFK via Marilyn Monroe and the KGB? Or were they merely wanna-be bad guys, faux villains if you will, Soviet agents too inept for the Gulag, banished to the American entertainment industry and cast in the starring roles of a 1960s cartoon?
It had to be the likes of these two that devised a way to kill off my dopamine-producing brain cells during my formative years. To think that my parents left me alone, unsupervised, in front of a black and white television for minutes on end watching a show that was clearly designed to destroy one’s ability to think critically. How could these simple people, living their simple lives, have known that there were bad people out there without the modern-day the elites telling them what to think and how to live?
It screams of child abuse. Were there no heroes who could have saved us from this despicable act? Really, a moose with a slight lisp and a flying squirrel?
Voices of Reason
The voice of reason in public discourse is all but gone. Hysteria has taken its place leaving behind a combination of straw men and groupthink. Statesmen caved to squealing shills, and those sent to lead locked arms with the lemmings. Those once dubbed the defenders of democracy, are now exposed for what they are — mouthpieces for the vacuous souls who lack the gravitas to present just the facts. If we cannot rely on these elite to shelve their ideology and temper their hubris, what chance is there that they can identify the real threats on our shores and at our back doors? If not them, then who? Rocket J. Squirrel, call your office.
A Time to Laugh
I make no apologies for my seemingly irreverent attitude toward my disease. I’ve shed my share of tears when comfort was allusive and used my bowling words when I thought it would help amplify my voice.
It’s time to learn to live with what I have because quite frankly, it is the very thing I can no longer outrun.
A right time to kill and another to heal,
A right time to destroy and another to construct,
A right time to cry and another to laugh,
A right time to lament and another to cheer,
A right time to search and another to count your losses,
A right time to hold on and another to let go,
A right time to shut up and another to speak up.
~the Original Quester
Thanks for your patience and for reading, liking and sharing,
Sure Ivy; we can make amends with the Russians. We can invite them over for a Moscow Mule.
Al and his faithful, but diplomatically naive side-kick, Ivy the wonder pup.
That’s good to know, Ivy. We should cover the carpet. Mules can be messy. And hide the good silverware?
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by Al Van Dyk | May 6, 2019 | Light and Fluffy
Joe’s have it rough. If having their good names besmirched by a Biden or Manchin, or having a Crab Shack named after them, isn’t bad enough, they are saddled with the thankless task of exemplifying mediocrity; of holding down the middle.
Order Up
I wake up earlier than your average Joe. This morning was no different. I couldn’t sleep. I was restless and eager to start my day. With the headlines from the Drudge Report fresh on my mind; first, a question, then another, began to consume my thoughts. I couldn’t let them go unanswered, for within them I might find a clue as to how my day would begin. Would they provide the stimulation to stay awake or leave me with a numbing effect that would entice me back to bed? “In how many ways can I be average?” I thought, “How can I ensure that my life has all the consistency of a bowl of Oatmeal; or for y’all south of the Mason Dixon line, the flavor of a plate of grits?”
Feet in the Morning
There is nothing better than starting off one’s day with such a light and fluffy question. After all, if I measure my success with a yardstick, who is to say that my yardstick has to be a full three feet? Who’s ruling is definitive, Dr. Seuss? I can just shorten it up, using the average foot size of all of the toddler’s named Joe rather than the average foot size of Joe’s in the NBA. There, my day just got easier. Following this train of thought, I should be back in bed in no time — assuming, of course, I can displace the Wonder Pup from my pillow.
Say It Ain’t So
Isn’t that how we are supposed to shape our aspirations and achieve our goals? What we cannot reach, a pinnacle that we once we were certain was within our grasp, we simply minimize; what we cannot overcome, we avoid. Something doesn’t feel right. What would your average Joe do? But who speaks for them? Are they so marginalized that they have no voice; so alienated that no one is willing to stand in their place?
Maybe I can be one of their thought leaders, but how? Where do these average Joe’s congregate? How do I reach them en mass? Do I run an add on the View or buy a mailing list from the local chapter of Bernie in 2020? Are they the over-educated, yet chronically underemployed settling for jobs as convenience store barista’s, selling average joe by the quart to average Joe’s and other weary travelers? Perhaps, these can be my people, maybe this is where I belong!
I know an average Joe, he is a friend of mine. Trust me, you are no average Joe.
Joe Knows…Average
When someone is willing to invest themselves in the lives of others because they see them differently than they see themselves, or detect a character trait or a sparkle that is absent in your average Joe, lives are changed. When they are able to convince us that average is a state of mind and not a rung on some arbitrary socioeconomic ladder, it can leave one speechless. I would like to thank all those that crashed into my world delivering a message that I need to hear that leaves me without words.
Stay tuned!
Thanks for reading, liking and sharing. Comments are nice, too.
Sure, Ivy, you can keep your job if you support Bernie in 2020.I know, he promised you a lifetime supply of free Beggin’ Strips.
Al and his faithful, but overindulgent sidekick, Ivy the Wonder Pup.
Breakfast does sound good. How far away is the nearest Waffle House?
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