Elaine Webster Author: January 2014

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Kumbaya!

gas pump It has been reported that W.C Fields, each morning, on the way to the movie studio, would dictate his P-Ps to his live-in secretary as he sipped from one of several flasks that would get him through his day. These Pet-Peeves were later mailed to politicians, movie studio moguls, corporations, financial institutions, doctors, law firms and anyone else who deserved his wrath and wisdom.

George Carlin wrote the New York Times Bestseller, BRAINDROPPINGS, with the same finesse as Fields, with some extra fervor and language not available to Fields—at least not for public consumption. It is in the spirit of these two men that I offer:

My Morning P-Ps:

~!~ So why is it that when gasoline prices drop eight cents per gallon it’s a top news story? Will groups of commuters, join hands, dance around the gas pumps and sing:

Someone’s laughing, Lord, kumbaya

Someone’s laughing, Lord, kumbaya

Someone’s laughing, Lord, kumbaya

Oh Lord, kumbaya

And the next day, when the prices rise ten cents, will they reverse the dance and sing?:

Someone’s crying, Lord, kumbaya

Someone’s crying, Lord, kumbaya

Someone’s crying, Lord, kumbaya

Oh Lord, kumbaya

~!~ John Boehner is on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno talking about how far out he is and that he has no aspirations to run for the presidency. The main reason?—because he likes to smoke cigarettes and drink red wine. Huh? He goes on to describe what fun it was to grow up as one of twelve children. He followed the series of cute pictures and anecdotes with an attack on Obamacare. Gee, do you think his views have something to do with women’s access to birth control?

~!~ Silicon Valley Investor and Billionaire, Tom Perkins, has decided that he is part of the socially abused richest one percent. He has likened the campaign against rich people to treatment of Jews during the Holocaust. He has since tried to explain this statement off, and each time he opens his mouth he uses the other foot. I heard yacht fuel has risen eight cents. Lord, kumbaya!

~!~ The new BMWs will now come equipped with advertising that plays from your dashboard. I’m assuming it will be programmed into the GPS. They say that you can turn it off, or opt out, unsubscribe. . . But if you do you’ll never find the nearest Starbucks.

Kumbaya!

Monday, January 20, 2014

I Don"t Understand Football.

I Don’t Understand Football

I know how the game is played, the rules, the concept, how the game mirrors battlefields, war strategies, brute force, and yes even intelligence—not unlike chess. I’ve played both games with limited success—although as a girl, in football, while I received plenty of welcomed and un-welcomed touches, I was spared the tackles.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand the entertainment value of sports, certainly the sexiness of its players, the money involved, and thrill of it all—yet I open my Yahoo page today to watch a video replay in which a linebacker is hit so hard, that his leg injury will put him out of the game for some time. He is hauled back to the locker room in mental and physical pain, only to be further humiliated by the opposing team’s fans who threw food at him. Now tell me . . . isn’t this Beyond Cuckoo?

I Don"t Understand Football.

Sunday, January 19, 2014

What is Beyond Cuckoo?

My favorite Hans Christian Anderson story is The Emperor’s New Clothes. I go through my days amazed, dumfounded, confused and in awe of the world—all at the same time. I’ve scratched my head so often, that there’s a tiny bald spot, near my right ear, visible only to the discerning eye. Those that notice will approach cautiously and whisper, “So you’re one of us?—you see it too?—that he doesn’t have anything on?”

I don’t respond right away. I’ve found it’s best to step back a while to access the circumstances. I observe those that vie for the naked person’s attention—sure that he or she can bring success to their lives with a handshake or smile. Sometimes money is involved. Meanwhile the naked person thrives on the attention and prances around sure that their costume is of the finest silk, spun to perfection. Often small groups of sycophants grow to be large crowds and organizations; until one day an innocent declares that the emperor or empress isn’t wearing anything at all. Well, I’m that child.

I’m a writer with a day job. When I’m not writing, I work for a government agency. The combination has me hanging out with a vast cross-section of society. The same day that I’m helping poverty level families, I can also find myself corresponding with the wealthy and well situated. Ironically, it is often the poor that are fully clothed and cognizant of reality. Survival brings attention to basics with less sidetracks. You either have food and rent or you don’t. Your mission is to have both. This quest, unfortunately, often places you in an awkward position with the emperors of the world and their camouflage clothes.

So this blog is a place for solace and help for the sheeple of the world. Think of it like a twelve step program for the confused, scared and tired. And some days, like Don Quixote, you will find me tilting at windmills.

I also want to encourage you to comment and suggest topics for discussion, debate and delight (the three “D”s)—I’ll do some research in your POV and get back to you. This will be a fun ride.

What is Beyond Cuckoo?