Good Morning Carpetbaggers,
With all the death threats and seething commentary that followed my previous posting I felt it was time to explore the opposite side of hatred to perhaps lighten things up and make them fluffy. Philanthropist is the closet one word description that would be the antonym of misanthrope sort of. I’ve made real efforts to bring love home to ‘Curmudgeon Corner’ but have been surprised by the level of resistance to these efforts. It seems many of us would rather hang on to our hate relishing the comfort and stability acrimony brings to our dull lives. If we loved everybody who would we blame for our respective misery? Who or what would fill those shoes?
I’ve often wondered how someone accomplishes a complete 180° turnaround from one way of life to its complete opposite. The obvious answer is simple really; total belief. One must embrace wholeheartedly the new concept or life’s direction that now represent a core value system that is to become synonymous with who you’ve become or would like to become. The Beatles would have us believe “All you need is Love” and the rest of life’s rich pageant would take care of itself. Yet a historical overview puts this decade in perspective in that out of ‘Free Love’ came genital warts, brown acid, and aids. This is quite a price to pay for love isn’t it? However, coitus is only one part of the equation, and short of nymphomania or satyriasis love must take on much deeper levels, far beyond physicality if one is to become a philanthropist. It’s in this spirit of sacrifice I renewed my efforts to bring about change to the mostly haters occupying space at ‘Curmudgeon Corner.’
Throughout my checkered career, whenever I’ve been in charge of inspiring and mentoring others, I’ve always led by example. The current challenge before me is no different, so I’ve devised a two-part plan to convert these geezers and free them from their fortresses of hate. First, I needed to identify someone from Dewey’s staff to go along with me to implement this most difficult of tasks. I selected Hillary (not Clinton) who is a young pretty ‘wait-person’ just recently celebrating her 21st birthday to be my partner. Having lusted after her for a year it would be important to get the physical part out of the way so we can collectively seek the higher levels of love. Given the 30 some years between us I knew this would present a problem of revulsion to my young partner, so I invested in the date rape drug Rohypnol as to consummate our new found relationship. I’m convinced she’ll understand after I shackle her in the basement and repeat the mantra of love 24/7.
Everything was set. I waited until she got off work and while hanging out on the patio with friends I offered to buy her a belated birthday drink, to which she readily accepted. I thought, “Oh boy, it won’t be long now” and waited for my chance to slip her the ‘mickey.’ She got up from our table to say hello to another friend so I immediately mixed the Rohypnol in her Singapore Sling carefully arranging the glasses as not to confuse hers with mine. I excused myself to the bathroom leaving her still chatting with friends. When I returned it was clear the drinks had been moved to make room for her friend but looked to be generally in the same vicinity so we began to drink.
15 minutes later the room began to spin and I could hardly speak without slurring. I had downed the date rape drink by mistake! As I began to lose consciousness my last thought was, “Shit I use the date rape drug but will I be raped? Highly unlikely unless by crazed Raccoons….” Then blackness. I awoke to the glaring late morning sun laying in the backseat of my car; head pounding in a relentless rhythm of pain. The mission had failed, obviously setting the plans of love back substantially.
While certainly a setback, it will not diminish the importance of my mission and will forge ahead. However, after reviewing my plan, there may be a number of elements to it that need tweaking. While I work the kinks out I’d encourage the two or three of you lovers reading this odious piffle to stay strong and resist the temptation to hate. “I’ll be back.”