No Subject

"A child of five would understand this. Send someone to fetch a child of five." ~ Groucho Marx

I am bored with discussing politics. It is frustrating for me to continue to rage against the machine when I know that

1. I can't change anything.

2. No one listens anyway.

But that's not the reason I started this blog in the first place. All I wanted to do is express my own opinions, whether they impress anyone or not. So I guess in that way, I have accomplished what I set out to do.

I almost didn't post a comment today, but I have obligated myself to this task of posting thoughts daily. And I don't know why. Sometimes it is very rewarding. Sometimes it isn't. One thing I've noticed, which probably proves some peoples point that I don't know what I'm talking about, is the fact that I never know what posts are going to get a reaction and which ones won't.

Sometimes I give my subject matter a great deal of thought, and even open Microsoft Word and hammer out a rough draft days ahead of time. Then, after writing and proofreading and making appropriate changes several times for just the right wording, I post it and think to myself, "Wow, this is really good. This is Pulitzer prize winning prose". Sometimes. Not often.

And then, after all is said and done, it is a big flop.

Other times, I can't even think of anything to write about, and sit down at my keyboard, and just start typing out whatever thoughts that creep into my little peanut brain. This is one of those times. I publish these jumbled, rambling thoughts, and all of a sudden, I get 40 comments!

To illustrate my point, when I sat down here today, I was thinking I'd write about getting pulled over by a policeman last night, which has my typical (You know, it can only happen to me) unusual twist to it, or just talk about my dog.

It is only after typing out my introduction to my subject that I notice I have a subject to talk about already, that subject being the fact that I have no subject to talk about.

Go figure.

By the way, just before I opened blogger dashboard, I noticed, on a previous post, that I quoted Dan Trabue when he said, "What a strange little world you live in". At that moment, it occurred to me that, although he probably didn't mean that as a compliment, he hit on exactly what I've been saying all along, and that is, I have a different perspective than most people. That is why the original title of this blog was "4 rows back in the bleacher seats". It was meant to go along with the site address, which is "Left field perspectives". As in, my perspective comes from so far out in left field, I am 4 rows back in the bleacher seats.

So, I will take that as a compliment.

There are many subjects I could write about. Many happenings in the world of politics and newsworthy items to discuss, but the reason I don't comment often on some of the more important stories out there, is because everyone writes about those things. I will write about them, too, if I feel I have a fresh perspective that others have yet to explore. Or if I am passionate enough about the subject.

If you want to get me riled, all you have to do is bring up abortion or homosexuality, for instance. I have very passionate views on those subjects. If you can figure out a way to relate those two subjects, (and it has been done, believe it or not) I will really blow a gasket.

So, all that explains why even some of the people, who usually agree with me on just about everything, voiced disagreement about my last subject. I see their point, but I still think most of them fail to see mine. I suppose terrorism isn't the most appropriate word. But at the same time, my point was that the word terror basically means fear, and in that way, those minor inconveniences are, at some level, terrorism in their own way. I did say there are many levels to terrorism, you may recall.

And, I might add, that at my age, the prospect of losing my job is frightening to me. Therefore, if someone threatens to do something to me that threatens my livelihood, which happened last night, I can, and will call it terrorism to some degree.

Ok, so I will put that matter to rest now. Three consecutive posts about the meaning of one word is getting a little out of hand, I think.

Oh. The unique twist I mentioned about getting stopped last night is this: I was pulled over and questioned and had my car searched by a "Conservation Officer". A Game Warden.

And my dog is a Pug named Beast.