Sometimes, It’s the Worst of Times

For those of us who don’t murder others out of spite, religion or politics, I applaud you.  Why can’t it be that easy?

In general, I’m opposed to murder, and don’t wish this piece to shape anyone’s, or my lack of knowledge, regarding the tensions between Sunni, Shiite, Sundried, and Sunnyside up Muslims.  I simply don’t understand these religious gangs of the Middle East. That’s the only way I can describe them.

I know as much about politics as George W. Bush, therefore, I disqualify myself from competing in debates I wisely avoid.  I simply don’t, or don’t choose to, understand.

After watching the news for several hours last weekend regarding the terrorism in France, I thought it may be prudent to research why people were dying in Paris.  Watching cartoons, similar to what I viewed as a child in my School House Rock days, introducing me to The “Bill of Rights” (I’m just a Bill”), I remained dumbfounded.  I then watched a documentary about the Crips and Bloods. That was enlightening.  As far as I am concerned, the extremists in the Middle East, or their corporate sponsors, are just a group of gangs pushing, shoving, stabbing or shooting those who don’t agree with their views.

While viewing the bloodbath in France on television, my wife and I spoke to one another as is if we were the most fortunate people on earth.  In essence, we are.  This is our great fortune.  In the morning, we open the refrigerator and wonder what’s in it.  Sometimes, when a fuse blows, we replace it.  If we think a twelve pound turkey isn’t enough for Thanskgiving hangover sandwiches, I order a fourteen pound organic one pleasing both the turkey and my wife. When I need a haircut, I stumble across some money and force myself to get one.  Unless I am at a wedding, I don’t dance.  I don’t sing unless I am drunk.  I don’t play scrabble unless it’s a rainy day, and it has to be with my wife or a great friend. Rarely, I wear pants.  I don’t own or carry a gun.  I hope and pray my neighbors leave me alone with my Louisville Slugger. It’s that easy. I enjoy, with my wife, and some dogs and cats, a good meal, followed by a repeat episode of Seinfeld before going to bed when baseball is out of season. Sometimes, those are the best of times.

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