Saturday, November 5, 2011

Unpaid Product Placement AGAIN!

Andy Rooney is dead.
I'm sorry. That just doesn't affect my life at all. Old garrulous man. Old curmudgeon. Old bitchy dude. I'm sorry for his family. I'm sure he had a charming side which he didn't share with most of us. Wonder how much money he made being an old bitchy dude?

I've reinstated the verification word. Sorry but that's it. It's done. I'm done going through e-mails notifying me of spam. Fuck it. I do not want to see any more shit about fake Uggs or how to get more readers to my blog. I have the readers I have. They make me happy. We do not want fake Uggs and if we do, we can go find them ourselves.

So, Ms. Moon, have you heard about Keith Richards' autobiography winning the Norman Mailer Center Prize for biography?
Yes. Yes I have.
Ms. Moon, are you still obsessed with Keith Richards?
Yes. Yes I am.

You see this picture?

It makes me fucking happy. You hear that? FUCKING HAPPY!

Would reading Andy Rooney's biography make me happy? I doubt it. What would it say? "I was a bitchy old young dude and it worked so well that I became a bitchy old OLD dude."

Maybe I just don't know the half of it. I would not be surprised.

So Bill Clinton is going to give Keith and his co-writer, James Fox, the award. I love Bill Clinton. And anyone who is trying to compare Herman Cain's sexual harassment issues to Bill Clinton's affair issues needs to be educated. Bill's sexual adventures were between himself and consenting women, as far as has ever been reported. They were his business and the business of the women and of his wife.
But Herman Cain sexually harassed women. Reportedly. To the point where they were paid off and signed agreements not to talk about it. Ever been sexually harassed? It ain't nothing like having a consenting sexual experience with someone you desire, even if it's someone you should NOT be having a sexual experience with. It's scary and it's wicked and it's having your back up against a wall and your whole nervous system screaming Danger! Danger! Get me out of here! and it's your mind reminding you that this man could fire you and how will you pay the damn rent? It's about power and it's about control and it's awful and the men who do it or who have done it are fucking evil.
I may be old but I remember.

Okay. I'm rambling again. It's a beautiful morning in Lloyd. God, it's beautiful. Mr. Moon and I walked around the yard and looked at the garden and I showed him where Owen likes to explore in the "jungle" which is a piece of overgrown property. That boy is obsessed with the jungle. When he woke up from his nap yesterday he sat up straight, lifted both hands in the air, pumped his arms up and down and said, "Yoo-hoo!" as if he was aware that he had indeed successfully napped and woken up and now it was time to play again.

I think I am going to go visit the new library today. I hear that the grand opening was so grand that they had to get police to direct traffic. That's so encouraging to me- that over a thousand people would show up at four-o'clock on a weekday afternoon to go visit a new library. Maybe there is hope for us after all. Maybe. I mean, that many people wouldn't show up just for the free snacks, would they? I don't think so.
So yes, I want to go to the new library. And I will. And to the grocery store to get something (WHAT?) to cook for our supper tonight. I sure wish I could make Madame Radish King's recipe for macaroni and cheese but my arteries can't take it. Just reading the recipe got me in trouble and I had to go heat up some of last Sunday's pancakes and put maple syrup on them for my breakfast. They were damn good for week-old pancakes reheated in the microwave.
I am trying to be sweet with myself today, having slept through another night of dreams that put me in another world of busyness for hours last night. Nothing terrible, just way too busy. It was odd though, every time I got to a place in my dreams where disaster was about to occur, it was averted. I find this strangely cheerful, as if my mind is telling me that the sky is NOT falling, look, here is your wallet, here is your purse, and there are kindly people who will help you.

I guess.

When I got up this morning I found the dining room table tipped over on its side. One of the legs is in serious need of repair and I suppose the dog jumped on it. No big deal except that every night before I go to bed I lovingly set my MacBook in the center of that table to protect it from harm and there it was, lying on its face, having slid off the tipped table.
I panicked a little, but as you can see, it is fine.

Everything is fine. Andy Rooney is dead but he was very old. I wonder if Sixty Minutes needs a new curmudgeon. I sort of fit that bill, don't I? But I am not negative about everything. I promise you. Didn't I just tell you that the picture of Keith Richards makes me fucking happy? Lots of things make me happy including the fact that although I just washed a load of clothes that held a pen stashed somewhere in its bosom, they were white clothes means that with the POWER OF OXY-CLEAN AND CLOROX BLEACH they are almost as good as new. I am washing them once more with that magical formula and am hoping for a complete white-recovery.
That is not racist. That is just laundry-talk. The sooner that everyone in the world is at least a shade darker than I am, the better in my opinion.

The well-built MacBook I write on makes me happy. This day with its bleach-pure light makes me happy.
Elvis crowing in the yard makes me happy. The thought of going to a brand-new library makes me happy. Green things growing in my laundry room window make me happy.

My babies make me happy. The fact that Keith Richards is alive makes me happy.

I wonder what made Andy Rooney happy? All that money he made from being a bitchy boy?

Who knows? Not me. But how ironic it would be to be made happy by the fact of being chronically unhappy.

But I'll tell you this- if left untended my eyebrows could look just like Andy Rooney's eyebrows looked.

And if paid enough, I could become as curmudgeonly as he was.

But I'd rather just be me. Happy and unhappy, bitchy and tender. Profane and holy.

Just like most of us.

Amen. Rock and Roll. Etc.


  1. I'm actually excited about seeing your new library. New libraries AND old libraries excite me and make me happy. Please take a picture and show it to us.

  2. O goodie... the computer is safe. The table can be fixed. Another wonderful day in Loyd. It is indeed hopegiving that so many people show up for a new library. Here in England they are closing libraries down at this point in time... Very worrysome!
    Woohoo for a new library!

  3. I wonder if Sixty Minutes needs a new curmudgeon. This is funny as hell.

    They are shutting down our libraries for a week every quarter here in town to save money because our governor is an asshole. She also wants to do away with school buses to save money and yet she keeps building sports arenas and tearing up perfectly okay bridges to build tunnels for no specific reason.



    wv: picket!!!

  4. When I think of Lloyd it seems like a storybook place. Can it be real? Well of course it is, Mary lives there and writes about the beauty of her yard, the day to day life of what she sees and most of all feels.

    I don't know if we would be bosom friends if we lived in the same town but I do know that I am feeling the friendship on this internet world of blogging.

    Do I always I sure get some ideas and thoughts flowing in my head. Food for thought!

    I hope my son plays guitar as long as Keith Richards has and gets as much joy from it. Just not the drugs and booze please.

    Ramble on Mary, ramble on...

  5. I'm so happy to read what you wrote about Andy Rooney. I never paid much attention to the guy, so I made the obligatory, "Awww, Andy Rooney died," statement to my husband this morning. Within minutes I was in my car listening to NPR and my ears were assaulted by Andy Rooney excerpts. He was a damn annoying guy. Won't go so far as to say I'm glad his dead, but like you said, his death isn't going to have any effect on my life.

    I love how you just tell it all the way it is and I love the profanity. :)

  6. Elizabeth- I boldly took a picture. It will follow shortly.

    Photocat- Frankly I can't believe they built a new library but they did! And my MacBook has a new dent and scratch in the cover. Sob. But it is working.

    Madame Radish King- I refuse to picket but I will put our governor up to yours in an assholiness contest any day of the week. There are not enough curse words in my vocabulary for me to express my opinion of him.

    Ellen- And ramble I do. I am so glad you are here visiting this VERY real place. I assure you. And you know, Keith has done pretty well for himself despite the drugs and the alcohol and he is now a gentleman and loves to ramble in his garden and plant trees and he still loves guitar so very much.
    A most satisfactory life, I would assume.

    Tamara- He WAS so annoying. Mr. Cranky Pants. But America loved him. I guess he was like the grandfather that sits there at the table and just says whatever shit he wants to say.

  7. So glad the Mac book is safe. I feel more about Steve Jobs dying than Andy Rooney. I am glad that Keith is alive and still enjoying life.

  8. I think you'd make a fine new Andy Rooney and a much better looking one.

    I love Bill Clinton. His mind blows me away. I get off on just hearing him drag out facts and stats off the top of his head. I will love him until I die. Also, President Carter.

    I will love you more though.


  9. A giant fucking ditto on the whole sexual harrassment issue.
    Hahaha---the phrase "giant fucking ditto" makes me laugh.


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