Ronsong #11 - I Recently Turned 45
I recently turned 45, and while this is really not a big deal to me or you, it gives me reason to ponder. So, ponder I
will. This may tend to meander a bit; bear with me and it might just pay off (sounds like what I used to tell my old
girlfriends).
Just to let you know, I've saved you from minutes, nay several minutes, of agony by completely rewriting this
essay. See, I had written a bunch of shit that was really not interesting. . .even to me. . .OK, especially to me.
That's what I get for being sober whilst writing. Not funny, not interesting, not particularly well written. In any
event, attempt number two. Apropos, no?
It turns out people actually read this drivel I write. There is evidence of such reading out there on the interwebs.
First, an internet acquaintance (gawd, that's a gay word) named John Walsh has seen this fuzzy little corner of
Dan's site. How do I know? He pasted the picture of Dan and I (not a particularly flattering picture, but hey, I don't
need flattering) on his site. We were in charge of our own "spaceship" heading to the "CrossShit Gaymes" to
represent the Performance Menu gang of nerds, muscleheads, and idiots (that's where I fit in). We were invited as
masters of debauchery, crude behavior, and being general ne'er-do-wells. It was fun. . .while it lasted. Our
spaceship was shot down and I was reduced to becoming the "Token Heterosexual" on the remaining spaceship.
Again, fun and metaphorical. Good times, good times. OK, this is just one huge inside joke and only those
involved will even think it's remotely funny. What do I care, I thought the whole running gag was a laugh. The
point here is, at least someone is reading my mindless ramblings and taking them for what they're worth; just me
having some fun with words.
That leads me to this, not only is someone reading me, but someone is ripping me off. OK, thatss a bit strong.
Someone took my essay on The Secret and wrote a wholly unoriginal column, then published it on a second rate
bodybuilding website (the aforementioned Mr. Walsh reviewed the site and gave it a rating of one Glassman. .
.now this means absolutely Jack Shit to most of you, but if you were in on the joke of a feud going on between a
certain pair of websites and their followers then yousd think it was fucking hilarious. . .Isd elaborate, but really it
means nothing. . .trust me, the irony was pretty funny), and made it into a bullshit "Address to the Class of 2007."
It was somewhat entertaining until the author started in on The Secret. If you want brilliance, read my essay here.
If you want to read some hack ripping me off, read this piece of shit. See the similarities? I sure did. Itss
completely possible he found my essay through the magic of the internets. Of course, my complete lack of ego
keeps me from accepting this as fact. It's more likely coincidence and I should just shut the fuck up before I
embarrass myself further.
On the other hand, it could be the intermittent fasting I've been doing. Again, blame it on the Performance Menu
and its band of P.E. nerds. Thanks to them, I did a little research (more like an hour or so) and found this link to
the Fast-5 Diet. It's easy to follow, makes perfect sense for me, and promises to help me lose one pound of fat a
month. Yes, I said month. It's slow, but steady. All you have to do is wake up and not eat for about 11 hours
(that's assuming you slept for eight hours). Then around 5 p.m., you can eat. As much as you want. Whatever
you want. Until 10 p.m. That's it. Doing this, I've lost around eight pounds so far (I sped things up a bit with some
cardio, ugh) and look to lose another 10-15 pounds by the end of the year. If you think you can handle it, try it.
The first few days you'll feel like shit until your body figures out you're a crazy fucktard who's not eating all day and
eventually gets used to it (this is explained as the body detoxifying and also entering ketosis. . .I say it's penance
for the years of underage drinking, gambling, and whoring around. . .OK, the last one was wishful thinking). The
founders of the diet (it's not really a "diet" because there are no food restrictions, but those zealots at the PM try to
get all "paleo" or "Zone-ish" with it. . .Me? I just load up on spaghetti, French fries, and beer) say this is the way to
go if you want to extend your life the easy way. I say I'm not that interested in extending my life; I just want to drop
some lbs and not worry about how many "carbs" I can eat every day. My wife says I've lost my fucking mind.
What does she know? She married me.
Back to this ego thing. I think I have one, unfortunately. I guess it's not all that bad. Lack of ego killed Kurt
Cobain; won't kill me. Here's my petty little excursion into the hell-like abyss of self-centeredness nee, ego. I
didn't get a stupid fucking recognition award last month at my work. Normally, this wouldn't bother me as I think
these "recognition" awards are management's way of keeping workers opiated until the next performance goal is
met. With teachers it's much the same. We get a crystal apple called the "Panther of Distinction." It is passed on
from one staff member to another until just about everyone gets a shot at the award. It's truly meaningless; gets
you no additional pay or privileges; does not get you a better parking spot, and; makes you look like a fucking
suck up pansy in front of the entire staff. So why am I so bent out of shape over this? Probably because the
person who awarded this month's award was my department chair, whose ass I saved on several occasions. This
was a lock. I would finally get a little pat on the back for all I do (hey, I do shitloads around this place. . .more than
you know). Apparently there are bigger suck-ups at my school than me, because I didn't get my fucking crystal
apple. Bitch. She gave it to a guy who's been at my school for two years, but he helps her with her "Saturday
Academy" (don't think for a minute this is done with altruistic intent; they're paid about $40 an hour to be there)
and spends time after school in "Ed Lab" tutoring students (again, paid at the hourly rate). Me? I just spend
countless hours in department meetings with her (for no extra pay, mind you); doing the jobs she doesn't want to
or can't do, and: making her look good to the boss by moving my students through a totally inane curriculum right
on schedule. Fucking nice.
So, that's where my head is at right about now. I could talk about other things like why I seem to be obsessed with
gambling and drinking, or why I've become a cranky old fuck, but why? It would only bore you more than you
already are, having read this.
I swear, my next pile of shit will have meaning beyond my contemplations of mortality.