Bonjour! In the spirit of the day, and since I’ll be wearing ashes all day on my head tomorrow and giving up something I like, I’m going to head out to the Clarendon Mardi Gras Parade later (Bayou Bakery then Whitlow’s if you want to drop by…) and have a few cocktails with friends and just be Catholic and Southern for the evening. Of course, to do that, I have to miss what is sure to be a remarkably average speech I’ve never heard before (like at the Inauguration) in the form of the State of the Union Address. But I suppose I’ll live. I do look forward to reading Rubio’s response while nursing a hangover tomorrow though…
Anyway, here’s my contribution to the holiday. It’s all I have until I get back from lunch and I can write a little more. It’s not exactly Mardi Gras but it’s close enough, and is under my sweater and close to my heart.
For now, I’ll just point you to a fantastic speech by a pretty remarkable man, who made this point on a radio show:
“When it comes to wanting things, people don’t really care about the national debt,” Carson said. “They don’t really care about the future; they just care about, ‘Give me my check so I can eat next week.’
“That’s understandable, but we have not created the right kinds of expectations — and we really need to start doing that or we will face a similar fate.”
That part about expectations was profound. Because the kids today, thanks to social media apps (seriously, adults that “compete” on Foursquare may as well be competing at coloring. And that’s just how I feel about it. Sorry I’m not sorry.) that awards them badges telling them they’ve served by marching down to the National Mall and listening to a hollow, divisive speech and thinking they’ve just heard something beautiful that matters, speaks to what we are currently teaching folks about expectations. A friend of mine who SERVES in the JAG Corps liked when I posted my confusion about this to Facebook. Not hard to imagine why.
Okay, satiate yourself with the thought of this until I can write more this afternoon. I’ll be making mine this weekend after I find some cool container at Target to hold it…
BACK! Other small things:
Sometimes I buy myself $5 presents from the junk shop down the street from the office.
His name is Gianni the Eurotrash Chicken and he and I will have adventures.
This thing I have some experience with. Back when I worked in IT, one of the many jobs I had with that organization had me down working amongst the help desk. And there was one particular guy — very young, very angry, VERY socially inept. And not in that charming way but more in the Dexter, proud serial killer way. Anyway, he decided it would be funny to put one of these in the ceiling tile above my desk. It chirped intermittently for about a day, at which point, because there was a sprinkler system up there, too, I called a maintenance guy, who discovered it and said there was a wiseass in the building who was pulling my pigtails. Hilarity!. Anyway, dude, read this. Because it was written by a guy that I think I remember you liking so maybe it’ll sink in. Then, go talk to someone about being a raging prick to someone who never spoke two unkind words to you. Because the world will thank you.
Hey now, this is a positive.
It is why I always get back together with Wired. Until they do something tragically hip again.
Oooh mama. My kind of suit and tie…
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