Licensed to “I Don’t Give a Shit”

I think this is great. It reminds of Seung Sahn’s ‘compass of zen’; part of zen is this kind of spontaneity and freedom in relating to others.

Punch Drunk Village

Bette DavisI’m turning OLD this year. But I’m taking it all quite well, really. There are benefits to aging of course. Social benefits, for example. And one in particular I find quite tantalizing.

Since I’ve always been a tad socially-reckless — over-sharing, stirring the pot, making listeners squirm — what I’m most looking forward to with turning old is my newfound license to I-Don’t-Give-A-Shit (IDGAS). Surely you are already aware there is an entire fleet of IDGAS behaviors that growing old affords, whether it’s IDGAS driving, IDGAS dressing (or undressing), IDGAS civic involvement, IDGAS bodily functions and so forth. For now let’s focus on the latter, specifically the kind that derives from one’s mouth.

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Well Now What?

Sick to the heart at the ways of social media, and of people in general &especially himself, the ‘sage-king-in-own-opinion’, -HA!- deactivates his accounts, hops on his ox, and resolves to vanish from the internet forever…

Some twenty-four minutes later, he cries ‘Wo, Nay Li!’ (For this is the name of his ox), and has signed up for WordPress.

Such is the mighty power of a human, once resolved upon a course of action!  Yes friends, it is well known, and easily observed.  A human who deeply feels and clearly thinks, who knows what they want, can never be stopped; no, nor turned aside by so much as the breadth of a hair!

He reads an intelligent and much-commented post about ‘white-passing privilege’: Here is something he both knows, and does not know…

  He sees a very nice piece about the perils of ever saying anything to anyone: he can relate, for he hath no small talk.  

He hears the profound doctrine of ‘IDGAS’ – here indeed, is the very essence of zen, itself.

Going ‘oo, oo’, hopping up and down and grinning excitedly, (only in his own mind, of course, well ‘knowing’ the risks of being seen to be happy), he senses that he wants to play, too… 

Some seven or eight times a day for three or four days, he logs in, and contemplates the Great White Precipice of the Empty Page.  Of course he can add nothing to its perfection; there is nothing to say; he knows he will only ruin it. 

Besides, there are so many important cigarettes to smoke, and his nails are in need of a few hours of cleaning and trimming, and so on… But let it not be thought that he is in any way afraid! Don’t be absurd!  

Here is a man who has braved deserts, mountains, and caves full of wild beasts!

 Well, at any rate, I’ve fixed a lot of roofs in Missouri, both in summer and winter; and usually this requires going inside and meeting the homeowner.

Damn that picture is not in the right place.  And I wish I knew how to link to those posts… Maybe I’ll figure it out later…

Finally, our genius hits upon a plan – he will write of the impossibility of writing!  Hooray!  It is exactly what the world needs.  I will be hailed a hero! Maybe later, I will get around to solving the ills of society – who better? – I have serious cases of nearly all of them!

I wonder what the hell I could tag this turkey as? Screw it, that’s way too complicated.