I seem to have taken permanent residence up shit creek.
The smell sucks, but the scenery is pretty.
Every now and then, things speed up and screw with you.
People like to say that life is funny.
Which only makes sense if you giggle while watching dog fights.
What they don’t say, the ugly whispered part, is that life can be downright brutal at times.
Take last weekend.
Without going into personal details, a split second accident almost cost me someone very dear to me.
Nobodys fault, the activity being performed was simply one that held a certain level of danger.
I think the paraphrased version of the life/brutal statement is Shit happens.
We, as humans, think we have a lock on safety and control that would almost be comical if it were not for the horror of tragedies that seem to go on.
We can pass all the laws, and make all the restrictions we want, but Shit happens.
A vehicle crashes, a tornado touches down, someone dealing with a mental illness listens to one too many Justin Beiber songs, and then the shit storm is on like Donkey Kong.
As a general rule, I hate hospitals.
I realize they help a lot of people, even saving people important to me recently.
But there is an element of “The bullshit buck stops here.” that you cannot deny.
People die there.
Thats one of those things that you kind of know, without knowing.
People talk quietly and whisper without being told to at hospitals.
It also has a lot to do with the fact that people die there on a regular basis.
That is why someone talking normally is either working there or stared at.
And when someone does yell or scream, its because all hell has broken loose in their life, pain wise or emotionally.
Personally, my ass cheeks clench the moment I walk thru the door and stay that way until about an hour after I fall asleep that night.
Something about serious rem-sleep that loosens your butt-muscles, that would also explain why most prison rapes happen in the middle of the night.
Karma also, seems to be stepping in here.
Every now and then, Karma wipes the sleep out of its eyes and stomps around the planet like an 800 pound gorilla.
But, in this instance, Karma got the address wrong.
Trust me on this one, if anyone have a Karma reckoning coming, its me.
In the grand scheme of things, I took Karma’s sister to prom, did all sorts of barnyard shit to it and never called.
So to go after someone at the other end of that “Got it coming” sliding scale makes no sense.
I went down that road of “Maybe it was meant for me” for a second, the math didn’t add up.
Assassins as a general rule are marksmen. (See also Lee Harvey Oswald)
In fact, if you remove time from the equation, Oswald could have been gunning for me.
That seems a little far-fetched, but I am not against using the absurd to make my point.
If only I could remember what it was.
Anyway, the point I am trying to make is “Bring the troops home.” (Never saw that coming, did you?)