Another 31,536,000 seconds

Today is the 36th anniversary of my 29th birthday. As I type this, 65 years ago my mother was in labor (in spite of being old enough to know better.) 

Clearly, the fact that I have nothing to say never stops me from blogging, but having posted my first blog on April 27th I feel obligated to blather on every year in spite of the fact that I try not to celebrate birthdays.

I posted my first blog 10 years ago today, so this would be my 11th birthday blog if I hadn't missed 2015. (That was the year I retired. Must have burned out.) It is also my 120th published blog post, so I'm averaging one a month. Probably way above average for all the dead blogs out here in the blogosphere. A hundred and twenty posts and not a word worth reading must be some kind of record. I will set this one to post at 6:38 PM Central Time: 2,051,222,400 seconds after I made my debut.

I have to admit that even I am growing tired of the self-deprecating humor. How many times can I say I have nothing to say? (That seems to be infinite.) How many ways can I say it? (My guess is seven, but that may be high.) I won't promise to stop though, because to do so I'd have to write something interesting.

For those of you who have the luxury (as I had for 64 years) of not thinking about Medicare (except when you notice what comes out of your check before you get it) this is the year that changes. (For me. When you hit 65 it'll change for you, unless the government makes changes before then.)

Here is all I got in the mail today:

I'm putting it down to coincidence, since I don't think the government has its sh... act together enough to deliver that ON everyone's 65th birthday. (If you got one on yours let me know I'm wrong.)

It does seem like something they'd do though, since I really needed it 3 months ago. So, in an attempt to write something not completely useless, here are a few things you'll need to know when you get here:

1. Your medicare will start on the first day of the month you turn 65. (So I have been on medicare for 27 days now.)
2. You need to start your medicare application 3 months before that and get all your ducks in a row. (You're dealing with the government, you know.)
3. In spite of all that money that has been coming out of your check for all those years, you will receive a bill for your part B premium. It will be for the first 3 months (in my case Daisy Duck's nieces.)* This can be a shock if you're not prepared for it, however (in spite of the intimidating government letter) they won't cancel you until after they've sent the third intimidating letter in 90 days. If (like me) you have health insurance that becomes secondary, and that premium goes down, it'll also take about 3 months for that to take effect, and (so they've told me) you'll get a check in the mail for what you've been overcharged.

SO, when all is said and done, with the reduction of my current premium minus what I have to pay for medicare my retirement check should go up about $24 a month. (Now for that vacation in Aruba....)

And so much for the joys of turning 65. Now you kids GET OFF MY LAWN!!!!!

*I hope somebody catches that reference. I considered saying "Huey, Dewey and Louie," which would have amused me but no one else. Kind of like this blog.**

**I just realized (while proofreading..., yes, I do that and this is what I end up with. How sad is that?) that I had just used the "ducks in a row" cliche. So I guess my ducks were April, May and June.

 

Will you still need me? Will you still feed me?

If I'm still breathing when this posts I will have been on this planet for 2,019,686,400 seconds. I've been composing this (in my head) for about 4 days, and still have nothing to say. That makes 283,996,800 seconds since my first blog post without saying anything worth reading.

So you kids get off my lawn.

BRAVE NEW WORLD

No, it's not, but I will come back to that, and other novels of a dystopian future, later.

I am setting this to post 63 years, to the minute, after I was born. It will also be exactly 8 years after my first blog post.

I started writing this yesterday and managed to get 2 sentences down. May use 'em, may not. Wound up spending the day reading this blog. THIS blog. Every stinkin' post. (In reverse chronological order, btw.) Some of them weren't too bad, if I say so myself, though most lived up to my usual description. I may go through and tag everything this year, "not too bad" or "complete waste of time." Some might be both...?

A lot has happened in the year since I posted last. We lost another beloved pet (and gained seven. Need a kitten?) I got a detached retina for Christmas. The economy soared..., and then ...

Here we are now.

THE NEW NORMAL

No. No, it's not. The thing that scares me most about this current situation is hearing people speaking as though it is permanent. This is a temporary change to address a problem that will pass. Will it have a lasting effect, probably. Permanent? No. Nothing is permanent.

I have never read "Brave New World." I have a copy somewhere and I need to find it. But I have read "1984," "Animal Farm," and a few lesser known dystopian novels, not to mention the movies ("Logan's Run," "Soylent Green," ... okay, I did mention a couple of 'em.)  One thing that those stories have in common is a totalitarian government isolating the individual in order to control the populace. It is difficult to look at our current situation without dwelling on that.

I have watched more television in the last 2 months than I usually do, I'm sure everybody has. About 2 weeks into this shutdown I noticed that advertising changed, started to acknowledge this shutdown, treat it as permanent. High production value, not slapped together. It made me wonder how far in advance they had been produced. I can concoct some elaborate conspiracy theories..., now is not the time.

More productively, I have read, and re-read, some Bible passages, leading me to wonder where we stand in the Book of Revelation. Now is not the time.

MORE ON THAT LATER

I am going to try to get back to blogging once a week. (Maybe more..., I'm thinking of trying my hand at some specialized blogs.) This Friday I will fill you in on the pet situation. (I took a break in the middle of that sentence, and when I came out of my room Boober ran in and hid under my bed. When I looked in the hall I saw that he was being pursued by three tiny kittens. These are the tales you can look forward to.)

I can also rant further about the current world situation. Much of that is already written, and cut from this rambling post.

But for now, let me just leave you with this cheery thought:

WE ARE GOING TO DIE

Every one of us. The only questions are when and how, and the end grows closer each second. The only weapon we have against death is to live while we can.

So, live while you can, my friend. Go out on the lawn, breath the air. You can even come onto my lawn, just don't breath in my face.

Volume 8

One year (and two blog posts) ago I announced I was back to blogging. So much for that. In that blog I mentioned that I shared a birthday with the King of the Netherlands and the Mayor of Newark. If a text I got this morning is accurate I can add the First Lady of the United States. (Nope, looked her up. Hers was yesterday.)

Anyway, this is the 33rd anniversary of my 29th birthday, and I've spent most of the day, so far, clicking "Like" and pasting "Thank you" on Facebook happy birthdays. I'm glad the computer has given us so much free time.

"Back to blogging." That implies that one ever blogged in the first place. Assuming that "blogging" implies writing something worth reading ..., I have yet to start.

Over the past year I've lost too many friends..., I don't want to blog about that today.

I worked two months giving tours of the State Capitol, until Civil Service decided that filing campaign finance reports constitutes prohibited political activity.

I've threatened it for seven years, but I'm ready to make this a political blog..., as soon as I get around to it.

And until I do, get off my lawn.

I'm back.

I've had 365 days to write this blog, and I've got nothin'. I did post twice over the last year, on my parents' birthdays. I felt that I couldn't let my mother's 100th pass without comment.

I did have an occasional urge to post, but I subdued it. I even had a topic now and then. I may remember some of them this year. For the last two weeks I've been reminding myself I need to write something. Now I'm scrambling to write something, take a shower, and get to High Twelve.

Thirty two years ago today I celebrated a birthday. After that I thought I was old. (I didn't have a clue.) Since, other people have celebrated, and I appreciate it, and here's a "thank you" for all the "happy birthday"s, but I claim I don't celebrate. (I have been known to take a day off when I was working. Does that constitute a celebration?)

I was born on Grant's birthday. (Ulysses Simpson or Hiram Ulysses, whichever you prefer.) My mother told me that when I was on the way whenever my dad got a $50 bill he'd say "I got another YOU-la-SEEZ S" and put it away to "pay for the baby." I always thought that was a funny coincidence. Another was that my dad was born on Robert E. Lee's birthday.

For years I thought I was born on Carol Burnett's birthday, but she was born on the 26th. When I started on this last night I looked it up. I had figured out I was wrong before and needed to confirm it. Oh well. My mother always claimed to be born on Edison's birthday, and she was off by almost 2 weeks.

While I was googling that, I found a few more people I share a birthday with. (Google wished me a happy birthday, by the way. I love Big Brother.) Mumtaz Mahal was born 4/27. She has a nice tomb. Frankenstein's grandmother (Mary Walstonecraft Godwin.) Samuel Morse, Walter Lantz, Kitty Kelly and Frank Belknap Long. Jack Klugman, Coretta Scott King, and Casey Kasem. Judy Carne, Cuba Gooding, Sr., and Sheena Easton. The King of the Netherlands and the Mayor of Newark.

Well they can all get off my lawn. (If not off my birthday.)

My Last Blog Post

Here.

For a while.

I posted my first blog entry 1826 days ago. (That's 2,629,440 minutes for those of you scoring at home.) Five years for normal people.

I would say that I've run out of things to say, but that implies that I had anything to say in the first place. Having "studied" blogs a little bit in the last few months (though you couldn't tell it from this one) I have learned that they are considered by some a powerful tool. I have been told that their power lies in the ability to interact with the reader. That's where it all falls apart for me.

When I started reading blogs I found that the comment section at the bottom was generally populated by morons. I had no desire to interact with anyone, especially if they have nothing better to do than comment on something I've written.

But now, having actually found at least one successful blog that I enjoy, I see that my cynical view may have missed something. It is apparently possible for someone to be a professional smartass and still like their readers. Not me, of course, but someone.

I guess I'm doing a little house cleaning before taking a hiatus. In November I predicted a return of civility to political discourse. I'm still waiting. In the meantime I want to share with you three truths which I believe to be indisputible. I am however aware of the human ability to dispute anything (I have been accused of this myself) so I will list them in what I think is order of increasing disputability, and since I threatened in my last post to talk politics in this one, here you go:
 

1.     Donald Trump is NOT the Messiah.
2.     Donald Trump is NOT the Anti-Christ.
3.     Donald Trump IS the President of the United States.

(I'm a little stunned myself.)

Anyway, this happens to be the 31st Anniversary of my 29th Birthday. As I do every April 27th, I will set this post to publish at 6:38 PM. Then I'm taking a break. If I post anything here in the next 31,536,000 seconds it will be because I think I have something to say.

So until then, GET OFF MY LAWN!!!!!!

Volume 5

I posted my first blog entry 4 years ago today. You'd think I would have learned something  by now. Not so much, I guess. Last year I posted my 100th entry, announcing that would be it until after the election, then I thought of something that amused me so I squeezed one more in. I haven't blogged since. I missed Christmas, New Years, Mardi Gras and Easter. Oh well, you can't go back.  

I had an excuse (not a good one, but "HEY.") Then over the last few weeks I thought of several good topics, and promptly forgot them all. I can't even remember what I was going to write when I started this. Gettin' old sucks. (But I've always heard that it beats the alternative.)

So, as I pointed out, this is my 102nd blog post.  When I started working on it at 1:19 AM on 3/20/2016 I read back to the start of my retirement countdown and realized that I had been retired for 399 days 21 minutes and 12 seconds. I decided then that I should post on the 400th day. Then I forgot about it until 11:56 AM 4/21/2016. So much for that.  

I have been retired for 437 days 15 hours 47 minutes and 02 seconds. More than that now. I guess it will just keep getting bigger. And when this posts, at 6:38 PM, I will be starting my 7th decade on the planet. But using the "50 is the new 30" logic from my first blog I'm only 35.4.

I got nothin' else, at least nothin' I can get posted before 6:38. Maybe I can get back in the swing. Oh, well, until then get off my lawn.

Vol. 3 No. 1

My fourth Sunday blog post in a row.   But it was 2 years ago today that I posted my first one.  I'm still annoyed by the Blogger iPhone app, because I can't (or haven't figured out how to) set a time for a post to publish.  I had to get out my laptop.  Now this one is scheduled to post at 6:38 PM.  We'll see.

I have thought of a few things to blog about over the last few weeks, but I can't think of any of them now. But I can retire in 293 days, so get off my lawn. 

Vol. 2, No. 1

If this blog posts at 6:38 PM as planned it will be exactly 56 years (or 29,453,760 minutes) since I came slimy, squirming and squalling into this world.  As I mentioned 4 weeks ago, I am now 8 in dog years (or to use the logic of my first blog the new 33 years 7 months 9 days.)  OR one year closer to the grave, or a day older than I was yesterday.

In case I haven't mentioned it, I'm gettin' old.  They say memory is the second thing to go.  I've reached the point where I think of something I want to look up, so I open a new browser tab to Google it, and by the time the tab opens I can't remember what it was I wanted to Google.  Long term memory is a different situation.  Retrieval is not reliable, but there's crap in there I wish I could delete.  Just this week, while discussing Star Trek a co-worker mentioned the actor Scott Bakula.  Bubbling up from that fetid cauldron I call Long Term Memory came Eisenhower and Lutz.  I won't inflict the rest on you, I'll just leave it for you to Google.  (If you can remember.)

I have repeatedly promised to come up with something worth reading to put here.  I am about to despair of that ever taking place.  I've had 8 days since posting my last blog, and I actually started writing this one at 11:01 AM on the day it's "due."  I haven't changed.  I actually did my first draft on the 4th, but that was just how long it will be from today until the first day I can retire.  Creative prioritization.

Oh, I almost forgot my Out of Context Quote of the Week:  (how long do I really think I can keep this up?  I think it should be an occasional feature.  Anyway, it's really a runner up from last week.  Okay, it came in after the deadline.  Anyway, here goes.)
"... or get off the pot."

(Of course you know the quote, it's the context that makes it.  And I can't give you that.  But I can amuse myself.  It's my birthday.)

Anyway, I can retire in 659 days.  You kids get off my lawn.

Get off my lawn

I am 55 years old today.  I maintain that I'll be 54 until 6:38 PM, but that's my problem.   I have read that 50 is the new 40.  I have also read that 50 is the new 30.  I like that better.  That makes me the new 33.  I actually meant to start this last year, when I would have been the new 32 years, 4 months and 24 days.  I thought that was funnier.  At least 33 is a symbolic number.  I'd explain that, but then I'd have to kill you.  Have a Rolling Rock for me.

Fifty is the new 50.  I thought of that earlier this year.  At least I thought I thought of it.  Turns out I didn't.  There's a book.  At least I think it's a book: A title and author showed up on Google.  Who has time to read?  I also thought I thought of the title of this blog.  Well, the idea of using it for a blog title.  Turns out somebody's already using it on something called "Public Radio Exchange."  (Sounds liberal to me.)  It seems there are at least 3 other blogs with this title too.  None of them have registered a trademark though.  I think I will.

According to Wikipedia "The phrase (You kids get off my lawn!) presents in a jocularly sarcastic fashion the supposed reaction of an archetypical elderly middle-class homeowner confronting obstreperous teenagers crossing or entering his property. More generally the idiom pokes fun at older conservative bourgeoisie as a class."

Works for me.

A little more about me:  I have a job.  At least (I hope) for the next 2 years, 9 months & 19 days.  It is a job that I don't hate (which I know makes me extremely lucky) but one that severely limits what I can say in public, especially about politics.  I like skating on thin ice however, so as those 1024 days dwindle down, we'll see what happens.  (I just realized I have a kiloday left until retirement.  Half of the 10 kinds of people in the world will be amused by that.)

I'm 55 years old.  I figure I have about 15 good years left, followed by about a decade of steady decline, before I assume room temperature.  I need to do something, so I think I'll blog.  I've thought about it for some time, but I find arrogance a rather distasteful personality trait.  One has to be pretty arrogant to think that anyone might be remotely interested in reading what one has to say.  What the hell.

Now you obstreperous teenagers GET OFF MY LAWN.