Habits

          My name is John, and I have bad habits.

I have this urge, I must confess. I cannot take it any more, it must get out of my system.

I wake up in the morning, and it is there, I go to sleep at night, it is there. Even if I wake during the night, it is there. All day - all night. I have this horrid habit.

I think!

That is it! I think – and what do I think about?

Wine women and song? Not at all.

One could think that I will be concerned about the fate of the world, and the effects of the pollution on the ozone layer, all the issues COP has to deal with, the state of our oceans – filled with foreign debris which is killing off the marine inhabitants and all other related wildlife.

Or maybe the fate of all the cows of the world. Should the 'Green Movement' get their vote in. Consider their case which makes perfect sense.

Cows are too flatulent, or as we common people would say, they are windy. They pass too much gas. This gas is the deadly gas known to injure the ozone layer, worse than any other single cause known to man. The plan is to get mankind to eat less cow and more greens. Then we reduce the cow population, and man will give off more gas, as man will now be eating the greens the cows were eating. The gas will … Somewhere this is a load of hot air.

There is a molehill or maybe a mountain, of causes on which one can think. Yet, none of these concern me.

Whether I recycle my wares, make sure the plastics are controlled, use as little energy as possible, eat grass, and donate my fair share to worthy causes, I get the idea, the horse has bolted, and there was never a stable door to be closed anyway. So why bother - big industry is not interested, why slaughter the goose that lays the golden egg, makes no sense at all.

None of these very serious issues keep me occupied.

I think of nothing, there, I said it – nothing, zilch, nada, zero, nil. The perfect nothing.

That is one of my bad habits. I want to achieve a state of total nothingness. I have come close a few times. A quiet Sunday afternoon, everyone has been well fed, and having a catnap. There I am in my recliner, staring, nothing is close, and the doorbell rings.

Welcome visitors!

I keep on trying, one day is one day, I will get there. Total nothingness, total bliss.

Of course, there is also the case of one of my other weaknesses. When I think back, I can recall doing this from a very young age, any prey would do. All one has to do is corner a gullible innocent person and then, “Have you heard this one?”, do not bother to wait for a reply, and tell the joke.

I tell jokes. There are jokes for every occasion, of every hue, good ones, bad ones, long stories, short puns. I cannot help it, it is a very bad habit and I cannot stop! Not that my jokes are any good. People do not flock around to hear, never received an invite to tell any, no one has ever suggested doing it as a career, as a matter of fact, my ability to tell jokes suck big time, and that I know. Still, as the flea, ticks, and vampires need their blood, I need to tell jokes – even if it is badly.

This one friend of mine has told me how to solve the problem of staying out late at night. He swears by it, and the secret is simple. He gets home, and instead of sneaking in quietly, he slams the car door, calls to the dog loudly, rattles the keys as he enters, bangs the front door shut and sings “I'm in the mood for love....” Amazingly, his wife is fast asleep every time. 

Could not help it, sorry!

Smoking, now there is a bad habit!

Started early in life, and carried on for many years.

I smoked the best brands, and the worst, was knowledgeable on the art of the pipe, and a lover of cigars when I could afford some.
I even tried 'weed' twice. My friend and I tried 'weed' purely as a scientific research program. We obtained this highly illegal substance, filled our pipes and proceeded to smoke as we were told to. It was late at night, he had to go on night shift and I to sleep.
The next day we compared notes.

His story was about how he floated to work and moved at the speed of light till about 2 o'clock in the morning.

I lay back in my bed, gave thought on the foul tasting stuff  which did nothing at all for me and I decided to turn around to sleep – and there I was - paralyzed - I could not move a muscle! And so I fell asleep.

Those were the two times I tried 'weed' – the first and the last.

Some-one, one day, said to me - if I realized how much money I had sent up in smoke, my wise retort was, “Fine, so how much money have you saved by not smoking?”  The only good that comes from smoking is, it lines the pockets of the production line and the medical fraternity, who all tend to the smokers.

At least that is one bad habit that I managed to break. How, you may ask One day I stopped smoking, as simple as that, nothing fancy. Some days I still miss the strange joy of smoking then these words come to me;

      Tobacco is a dirty weed. I like it.
It satisfies no normal need. I like it.
It makes you thin, it makes you lean,
It takes the hair right off your bean
It's the worst darn stuff I've ever seen.
I like it.
~Graham Lee Hemminger, Tobacco

Little Johnny went to his dad “Dad, where did I come from?”
“Go ask your Mom, she knows about these things.”
“Mom. Where did -- ”
“I heard, You tell your dad, that it is a man's job to talk to his son about these things.”
Feeling rejected and confused, little Johnny walked out the door. All he wanted to know was where he came from, as the little girl next door said she came from New York.

New York was picked, it could have been Tokyo, London, Sydney, or heaven forbid – Johannesburg, R.S.A.

Sometimes it happens, not frequently tho, only sometimes one has to tell a tiny little fib, also known as a white lie. Not that I will ever promote lies, or would lie to other people without excellent reason. The truth has its place, still, one should not overtax this priceless commodity. To expound the case, let us look at a case study told to me as the truth.

This friend of mine had a weakness for a 'quickie' on his way home from work. He would pop into the local bar for a 'pint' and almost without fail, the lads would corner him for a game of darts. Being who he was, not wanting to cause his friends any harm, he would give his best – and he was known to be a good dart player. And the winners always had many 'pints' coming their way.

Now, on getting home, the missus would give him the full treatment, and he would beg for forgiveness, make promises which he was sure he could keep, and knowing his own weakness, he was serious about it. After all, a man should not give the love of his life anything but the best.

Then, again, the thirst is a terrible master, and it will insist on being served. He lasted a full four days.

Now this friend of mine, who must remain nameless, decided to go to the public parlour to have his quick pint. There he would be safe from the demands of the darts. He rushed in, ordered three pints at one go, and hardly did the pints land on the table, he downed the first, it hardly touched sides. He sat back, closed his eyes to get the full effect of the satisfaction that only a beer drinker knows as the beer settled into his system.

When he opened his eyes, only then did he take in the parlour and its surroundings. There opposite him sat a vision, such as he had not seen in a long while. He slowly nursed the second pint into his system, and enjoyed the vision and the pint. Now my friend is known as a bit of  ladies man, and it did not take very long before he and vision were sharing pleasantries.

The third beer went slower and to the accompaniment of a gin an' tonic for Vision. (They were on first name status already) He was invited over for a bit of more intimate conversation, and my friend really was not going to be tempted. He knew the terrible problems he was going to pick up for such a transgression. He explained to Vision about his dilemma and about being a very bad liar, and then she said for him not to worry one bit.  She had a foolproof plan.

There would be no lying, and my friend was a pushover for new foolproof plans and visions.

When my friend walked into his home at two in the morning, he took the piece of board chalk Vision had given him, and he put it behind his ear.

“Now tell me your story, you …. “ His  rather irate wife demanded.

And he told her the whole truth, every detail.

“Don't you give me your stories, you good for nothing snake. You were playing darts again, I can see the chalk behind your ears. You wish. A vision! You must think I'm stupid!”

He did spend a few days in the 'cooler'. At least - he did not lie.

Another bad habit I have, is for sharing the truth, then – only on my terms.

I have a few more bad habits. None of which I care to share. I did mention about being a wise-ass?

(Btw - parlour is spelt the UK way.)

COP - Countries On Pollution.
Delegates from many countries all gathered at Durban: South Africa this year (2011).
Durban is known as a top class holiday resort, as only the best should befit the delegates, while discussing the plight of the poor and the poor earth we all populate.

I had no hand in any decisions taken at this COP meeting!