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by evanid
Rated: 18+ · Other · Comedy · #1965591
A night with the keyboard by the television



It's simple to consider, but somehow astounding, as I consider turning on the television set. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not one of these purists who will tell you that television is the route/root of most evil. No, I like television. But like most of us I don't care for advertising too much. You see, I timed the advertising and it added up to about a third of the time. Either that or pay a premium for less than premium programming. Like most of us I don't like to watch the same things over and over again. So to avoid advertising and reruns, I just don't turn it on, and certainly don't sign contracts for content. But I'm an urbanite and can watch a few channels without buying cable - at least for now.

Anyway, I turned it on, watching a few ads that aren't called ads between shows on the public broadcasting channel. Then a music show designed to showcase how special the channel is so you'll donate to it came on. The show happened to be music from the Sixties with a few survivor bands playing live.

I guess that I'm a Boomer, but don't really consider myself one, despite the fact that I was eleven-years-old in 1970. Although I'm a little younger than the Sixties crowd , I've stopped wearing sleevless shirts and I don't dye my hair. For me aging is part of living and, at least in my case, aging should be embraced while I try to maintain a bit of dignity. Sometimes I consider the guys my age who are still out dogging for women, sniffing around like bloodhounds on the scent of a smoked pig's ear. It's my guess that they didn't get enough while they were young. I also believe that breast-loving men were denied breast milk from the source when they were infants. I've alway just considered breasts to be dispensaries of infant nutrition, not sex objects; but I was breast fed.

Although I still retain full function, my libido nearly vainished at fifty, then just wandered far away during the last few years. So I guess it's a good thing that I'm not married. I still enjoy the beauty that women possess, but it's entirely aesthetic now, which is one of the greatest blessings of age. I don't spend time looking for them, courting them or spending time getting involved in relationships. I am free of women; free to pursue other interests without interruptions. Some of the ol' gals accuse me of being gay when I show no sexual interest in them before I remind them that I was once known as the most heteroserxual man alive.

Oh yeah, that's right, I was talking about Boomers. The old zombies have Iron Butterly on the television right now. They're a lot more dignified that say, Mick Jagger as he still prances around in tights trying to prove himself some kind of sexual god.
Some antique woman is carefully dancing to Born to be Wild. The ol' boys are pretty well preserved and, it the organist is original ( I don't think so) the guy still rocks. Kay's voice has held out, but he's probably lip-synching. It's all just show business
back in the 90's I began collecting records when I realized just how many were cranked out - even the rarer ones. Those bits of music we wrapped out identities in also wrapped a whole lot of other identities. I've always loved the line in Jewel's song, "People living your lives for you on TV. They say that they're better than you, and you agree." Yes.

Boomers love to slap themselves on the back for the advances in technology. Teh book IBM and the Holocaust by Edwin Black carefully documented IBM's assistance with things like the census that helped round up jews and trains running to death camps. I mean, it's great that people can now type in nearly any question into a search engine and have accurate answers turn up toward the top of the search, if not right on top. Knowing where to find information is one of the biggest parts of the profession and the potential technology offers shines a whole new light on professionalism. But that same technology may pose an unprecedented threat to the society it is turned against.

I grew up in one of the most redneck places on earth; a place where environmentalist was a brand you didn't want applied to you. There were actually bumper stickers that read, "The only good tree is a stump."
The people who lived in that resource-based economy believed the company line that the old growth timber could not be exhausted. Things didn't turn out that way, but people certainly believed it then. To consider the fact that environmentalists are often admired these days is very positive - at least much more positive than watching Davy Jones (Monkees) dance on television.

Well now, it seems like I started writing this to say something, but I really can't remember what. Oh, Oh! It's Daydream Believer. The ol' gals are going wild with their flab bouncing around like a Super Ball in an empty swimming pool. Looks like a couple of them might fall over before the song ends.

That reminds me of days when I worked running sound and lights for a convention facility. Arnold Schwarznegger was filming Kindergarten Cop in the next town over and was on Reagan's physical fitness commission. The Oregon health teachers were holding their annual convention and didn't tell anyone that they'd arranged to have Schwarznegger speak. The guy came in and all these middle-aged women started screaming, swooning, acting like kids. I remember the guy being a lot shorter than I'd expected.
Back in the day some very perceptive soul stated that the Boomers would find a way to make aging seem sexy. I see it more often all the time as older folk try to project some kind of sensual sexuality. Although I find it kind of repulsive, it's undoubtedly harmless enough.

I'm still not to sure about the drug thing. An orphan, I started smoking marijuana at eleven, giving it up by the time I was fourteen after smoking several kilos during adolescence. I finally landed at a foster home that the caseworker and his wife would pick me up at, giving me a ride into town in their personal vehicle. They drove an old van with a 3-speed on the column shift and engine cover behind the dash between the seats, where I'd sit. They'd often fire up a joint passing it back and forth, sometimes to me when they'd forget that I'd tired of it, which is precisely what happened. I simply tired of being stoned and the social scene that surrounds marijuana consumption.

In my high school the captain of the football team preferred marijuana and qualudes, while the valedictorian was busted with an ounce of crank (amphetamine) about a week after graduation. I don't know; the drug use hasn't seemed to destroy most of us, but I think that's largely because most of us tired of it before it became a problem. There are certainly a lot of my friends through the years who have fallen to drugs and especiall alcohol.

OH, oh! Now it's Susan Sarandon narrating for Dowton Abbey. She's wearing a low cut dress and must have cut off a few squares of skin to keep the restr that tight. But she must not have had enough to spare on her face. She's still pretty, although she never struck me as gorgeous, but I do wish she'd keep that cleavage to herself.

These days I spend the vast majority of my spare time with books. I've always loved reading and can say with certainty that it has been one of the most pleasurable aspects of my life, aside from a coupld of relationships. If I were a young guy I'd probably be sniffing around that Mary on the Bristish soap opera. I don't know her real name, but it's nice to view her as a beutiful, intelligent woman rather than the sex object she would have been in my young man's mind.

Well, it's off to bed soon where I'll likely enjoy some of the swel dreams that have been coming along. Before that I'll finish reading Mowat's, People of the Deer, which I read some thirty years ago. It's bit surprising that I recall most things in the book despite the passage of time

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