We are all in this together…
The news is bleak, dear readers. Inflation, deflation and stagflation are words that are causing investors to stock up on libations as a hedge against serious losses of sanity. What the hell happened? It wasn't me. I'm not living in a McMansion or driving a Hummer. I have no delusions of grandeur; the only throne I sit on comes with a 2.5 gallon tank. Unemployment is up, stocks are down, and debt is all around the town. It was so easy to get money and nobody worried about paying it back. Everyone was making a decent income. Life was good. Then a bunch of stupid banks handed out sub-prime adjustable mortgages to a bunch of stupid people who couldn't understand the stupid adjustable part, and now they can't afford the Hummer and the house.

So the world will also pay the price living large. Why should all this affect someone in a different country? Like you, who has never witnessed the amber waves of grain (of which there is a looming shortage and we're all going to starve). Globalization, don't you love it. Global markets, global banking, global trade agreements, global entanglements, global courts and all sorts of global bull! I'm ready for some good old-fashioned isolationism. Throw in some protectionism as well. And while we're on the isms, what ever happened to patriotism. And national sovereignty, remember that one? Everybody is getting into some kind of union. There's always a price to pay for being a member of a union. They still haven't found Jimmy Hoffa. Anyway, we're all caught in this inevitable and sticky web where when somebody on the other side of world farts, we all deal with the stink.

And they say it will only get worse. Home foreclosures, job losses, bank failures, Green Bay Packer quarterback Brett Favre retiring... It looks pretty bleak indeed. How does one maintain any holdings of inner peace and joy in this world? Well, at least we're not dealing with roving bands of flesh starved zombies yet. That's a good thing, isn't it? And there are no reports of blood sucking vampires lurking about. You can still stumble home from the pub without raising the BAC levels of some hapless vampire to illegal limits where he gets a DWI driving back to his crypt, as the rappers say, or worse, ends up in a tattoo parlour getting the likeness of Bella Lugosi inked onto to his puny chest. In those 1970s era B-movie vampire flicks, the female vamps where really hot. I may have been bit if I were in one of those films... yeah! Also, here in the present which is beginning to resemble a bad B-movie from the 70s, there seems to be no unusual howling out on the moors. I guess that qualifies as good news. Are there still moors? Or are there less moors? There seemed to be more moors before but I'm not sure. I've never been. Probably because of the werewolves and all.

I wish we could all shrink down and get inside a football. Then with his legendary rocket arm, Brett Favre could throw a blazing spiral into the air so fast it would break the speed of light and we could go back in time somewhere to a better place, a better time when things were good. Of course that would leave him to fight off the zombies, vampires and werewolves… but he's a pretty tough guy. And he always seems like he's having fun. He appears to have acquired large holdings of inner peace and joy, two valuable commodities. He must have bought when they were low. God help us all.

Voices from Beyond...
They say that one of the first things to go is your hearing. Do you ever hear far off, vaguely familiar voices, barely audible, but you know they're speaking to you? It's almost like voices that are trying to communicate from the great beyond.

I hear them all the time, usually from the opposite end of the house from where I am, often drowned out by blaring punk rock music. "Dad? Can I -" here it trails off.

"Dad? Where are you?" I love that one. Why don't you get up and find out? It's not like I'm hiding in the linen closet. Sometimes you want to pretend you don't hear the voices, because they will make you uncomfortable by asking something of you, probably something involving your car or a monetary donation. Eventually they find you.  

Voice from beyond: "Dad? - - - - borrow - - - - dollars for - - - - ?".
Me: "What?"
Voice from beyond: "What? Where are you?"
Me: "I can't hear you. Turn the music down."
Voice from beyond: "What?"
Me: "Come out here, would you?"
Voice from beyond: (Stomp stomp stomp, and more stomping from the inconvenienced one until I am located and treated as if I am old, deaf and/or mentally challenged) "I said..."

My wife is a different story. She likes to start telling me something as she walks down the hall or up the staircase. I can barely hear her voice as she goes into great detail about some topic. She stays right with it and eventually returns in full stride to where I am located, and looks to me for a response. It isn't my fault that I have no idea what she's been talking about. Maybe my hearing isn't what it used to be, but why do people make it nearly impossible to make out what they're saying? "I don't know," I'll say, shaking my head as if I'm trying to make sense of it all, "That's really something." This usually works. With her next couple of statements I can piece together what I missed and figure it all out, while appearing to be very attentive.

There is no shame in this, especially as you get older and can act confused. It is totally unlike when someone is talking to you and although they don't move, their voice starts getting fainter as your mind drifts off, wondering who was inside that Godzilla suit for all those movies. It must have been extremely hot in there. Was he mentioned in the credits, you wonder? "I never noticed," you say to yourself.

If you ever find yourself in this awkward situation, feeling quite guilty, just respond "I don't know," shaking your head as if you're trying to make sense of it all, "That's really something."