Now The Good News

Okay, now to examine what I have going for me.

I have so many goals and projects that keep me busy. Though I have retired from government service, I am in fact… a very busy ‘semi-retire’ bloke who is a private contractor of sorts.

I do take a great deal of satisfaction that my current livelihood has me busy with research to better implement tools of my trade to serve the select clients I choose to take on.

I am grateful that my current livelihood allows me to consult clients on the internet, and the opportunity for travel – essentially, with my laptop, I can conduct business anywhere – providing of course, if there is at least satellite coverage – as long as the glitches that are heaped upon me by bad actors don’t get in my way.

What physical attributes do I still possess that would be of benefit.?

1. I still have all of my teeth, although I would not hazard going through a batch of Brazil nuts and cracked them open with my teeth as I did in my youth.
2. My doctor tells me I still have the prostate of a twenty-five-year-old – which is a blessing I appreciate after the horrific tales I hear from men my age.
3. I have the dubious distinction of never being afflicted with hemorrhoids – not one; something I could peg my pride on such an achievement. Perhaps the Kegel exercises for men have paid off.

No excuse for people not to do these routinely, a lot less hassle than flossing your teeth in public; whereas the Kegel exercises are simple and can be done discreetly anywhere, anytime – even in church during prayer.

Although, occasionally you will run into some showboat bastard at the gym, sitting on the mat. holding the pelvic floor clenched, grunting and screaming, then releasing as he catches his breath – sound like a bellows of women in Lamaze class.

Whenever I see these showoffs with purple hair making these sounds while they are sitting still, they usually have a cell phone out doing a selfie for their TikTok account.

Perhaps, someone should hand them a trophy for having the ‘Tightest Sphincter’ – maybe a medallion with an engraving of a clenched arse.

• Since my cataract surgery, I now have twenty-twenty vision, which is great. Because I was born premature, the time I spent in an over-oxygenated incubator left me severely myopic. I had to be fitted with my own special Hubble lenses; despite being so equipped, I was still legally blind, ill-suited for sports & any task that required good vision. My vision improved drastically during my childhood but stopped by my mid-teens leaving me still legally blind even with my Hubbles’ – without them, my vision was worse by many magnitudes.

To procure a driver’s license, I had to commit fraud.

When I signed up to join the Marine Corps to serve my country in Southeast Asia, I was told that I was too blind – even with my coke-bottled lenses to be admitted into any branch of the U.S. military.

Like any young man filled with pride & dignity… I got on my knees and pleaded.

The corpsmen took heart and fudged the results of the eye exam, and I was allowed entrance into the world of fighting men.

• Despite my severe myopia, my peripheral vision is still superior to most people.
• My night vision used to be phenomenal, it is still better than the average person.
•  A genetic mutation allows me to possess a greater perception of color discrimination – this has not changed.
• My ability to detect the slightest movement from a small critter whether it be in my direct line of sight or off in the far peripherally has proven to be far superior to many people who possess twenty-twenty vision or better.
• My brain has compensated for my poor vision by an enhancement of reflexes for defense, and some precognition or a type of low-level Spidey-sense, as when I am being watched, or an object is thrown at me from out of my field of vision at high speed allowing me to unconsciously move out of the way.

Regrettably, this superpower is not a hundred percent. I can be blindsided, so I always have to be wary.

Unfortunately, my reflexes are not what they used to be, but better than most men my age, and as good or better than men half my age.

1. My hearing is still quite superior compared to the average man. (Once recorded as the most acute ears ever tested at the Philadelphia Armed Forces Induction Center; my span of hearing range was deep into the ultra-frequencies & the infra-frequencies. Since then, my hearing has diminished by many magnitudes.)
2. In lieu of a sense of smell, My brain has endowed my tongue with interesting compensations. I have been blessed to have a sensitive discriminating tongue with tastebuds that were augmented by a lack of olfactory sense. My condition has dispelled the myth that most doctors have regarding the impossibility of having a sense of taste in the absence of a sense of smell.
3. Unlike most men my age, I do not take any prescription drugs, rarely do I take Ibuprofen.

This assessment gives me indications of what can be improved and what cannot; I have decided to do my best to deal with what I currently possess – and hope that I can close the wide expanse of where I used to be and where I presently find myself.

So, as I frequently go to my favorite haunts, or on those occasions my sense of adventure has me trying someplace new – I will often spend hours, reading, researching, writing and conducting business with clients via the internet while I indulge in a healthy meal and a bulletproof coffee.

Of course, I usually prefer to hang out in places that are not concerned about the ‘vintage’ clothes I often prefer to wear, nor the state of what many consider my favorite attire to be in total disrepair.

My vintage clothes I cherish, because they are the few remaining items I have of the historical accounts of my life – they are remnants of my personal museum. They are clothes that have holes, and despite keeping them laundered, they have invincible stains from assorted mishaps and adventures.

Over the years, many a friend, girlfriend, or acquaintance have suggested that I should take my clothes to a competent dry cleaner – swearing they had the technology to lift out any stain. Considering the stains and holes, some of these people – particularly a few women I have been involved with tell me I should just throw all of my clothes in a heap and light a bonfire.

I can’t, I won’t, and it is not just my overdeveloped sense of frugality from the years of poverty my family endured during my childhood – it is my reverence for history – particularly mine; every stain, every hole & tear has a story behind it; some are reminders of tragedies and others of high-adventure or a bit of stupid high-jinx. 

I am a man who is aware that everything good and bad that has happened to us should be remembered and the lessons learned. Needless to say, this habit, does cause me to pause when I consider dating a woman substantially younger than many of the pairs of socks I still wear. Oh well…

So, I continue to wear these clothes until they fall off of me.

All said, though almost all of whom I cared about are gone, it never ceases to amaze me how many absolute strangers will approach me, with advice that I need to throw out what I am wearing and get new duds.

Of course, I do have nice clothes, even expensive attire, and without stains or holes; these I keep deep in my closet like an outfit a superhero will occasionally wear in times of dire need.

But the truth is, since I retired from my government post, the occasions I receive invitations from the Queen or other ‘Heads of State’ or multinational corporations are becoming scarcer with each passing year.

Besides, no matter how sedate the people or the gathering, I somehow, almost always manage to come away with holes, tears & stains – each with a story behind them.

Not more than five minutes passed of this last thought when suddenly, I’m confronted by a group of society’s malcontents – the ages of the young men & women in this group appeared to range from twenty-five to forty; not one of them had natural color hair. Instead, I see an unnatural rainbow of colors not to be found in nature.

I see blue spike hair, pink, green, purple, and metallic white, all of them have tattoos and piercings. A few of the tattoos were quite beautiful with bold colors I wish were available when I had a singular one done in Juarez, Mexico, as a sign of my affiliation with the U.S. Marine Corps. Most of these were displayed by the women, the rest of the tattoos looked like graffiti I had seen on dilapidated buildings in the slums of Bosnia.

A few of these rebels have multiple tattoos and piercings on their face – nature’s warning ‘Don’t tread on me’ or ‘I don’t really want a job’. Although these days, some of these young people may very well be CEOs of a high-tech internet business based out of their homes – there is just no way of telling.

Though most of these malcontents do not have too many holes in their clothes from various mishaps, some of them are wearing jackets purposely cut off at the upper arms and shoulders and frayed, or the holes around the knees of their jeans look suspiciously like they were purposely put there to give them a ‘grunge look.

One of the young men and two of the young women were wearing a tails sprouting out of the back of their jeans. I think they call themselves Furries. The world has certainly changed since I was their age.

Half of them are carrying skateboards, or wearing rollerblades – the other half were on foot with engineer boots. All of them look like refugees from a Mad Max movie.

To my surprise, some of the members of this group, that were checking me out, started harassing me about MY clothes. “Hey man, check out the old dude, have you seen so many holes and stains on a shirt that no one would want to wear?” Another kid followed the other’s lead. “Hey old man… are you homeless, or what”

A girl speaks up. No way he is homeless, just look at his state-of-the-art laptop and all the peripherals; the dude has money, and look at his shoes – way cool.”

Evidently… my five-toed Vibram shoes were quite the ‘In’ item with the Goth & Grunge crowd.

He can’t be homeless, he looks like he shaves and showers, and except for old stains and holes, his clothes look washed, he’s got books, and food from this place and he’s got those cool shoes; I think he’s probably Schizo, or a war vet with PTSD.

Another kid, the biggest of the group leans in, hands on my table, “Hey old dude, what you’re story man?!

How come you got all those holes and stains on your jean jacket and tee shirt man? What’s up with all those bloodstains?

I looked at them, wondering how I should respond. I wasn’t afraid of getting into a scuffle; besides, a scuffle would brighten up my day. I was feeling low, and I knew I needed entertainment.

I had a lot of stories that would mess up their heads and provide me with a crap load of mirth. I could tell them hair-raising stories about my time in the government sector; something I rarely did, except with colleagues who also possessed a G13 to G15 rating.

So, I decided I would have a bit of fun and share with them some stories. It really wouldn’t matter, so many years have passed. I am certain that the statutes of limitations no longer apply, and I could change some of the names and places to keep from shaming certain people from my past.

I looked at each of them giving a smile as if I possessed secrets they could not even dream of.

“You all want to know my story, do you?”

The alpha of this cute band of kids spoke up. “Yeah man, especially about all those blood stains.”

“Okay… but I have to warn all of you, the story I will share will take about a half-hour or more. Do you think you can spare the time?”

They all chimed in with more or less the same answer. “Hell yeah man, I ain’t got anything better to do today.”

Of which I had no doubt they were speaking the truth.

I sighed deeply as I was prepared to go deeply into the past. “Okay kiddies, tighten your seatbelts, because I’m going to take you on a wild ride.

And so, I did….