As I watch and listen and occasionally fall victim to the rampant and passionate exchange of evolving, and more often “non-evolving” modern intellect, broiling over the frothy pot of America’s current “Goulash” …a surprise left-over stewy invention self-righteously packed with gristle and lardy bits- bubbling and burning from the FAR-LEFT-TO -FAR RIGHT, torturing our imagination as to what this dinner might look like moments from now, and if any of the kids will dare stab it with a fork….(big gaspy inhale) – I am immediately lunging at what we have all experienced in the kitchen, for certain. With the exception of those who still live with mom, and selfishly demand her perpetual sacrifice… self-entitled brats!

We have all seen the mess erupt like Vesuvius all over the stove as milk or cream comes to a boil, and we instinctively turn off the heat, remove the pot from the burner, and after opening a window to let the stench and smoke billow out so we can catch our breath, we can begin the arduous task of assessing how crusty and sloppy a mess we will get to spend the next half-hour cleaning.

I have a powerful metaphor for this, and it’s coming if you bear with me one more paragraph..or two. Brrrt-Helm!!!

We are taught to read and spell from Left-to-Right, in the major Latin and mostly Balto-Slavic world of transcript. There is really no completion of the composition or understanding of it, until we have written or read the sentence- all-the-way from the LEFT…across the center of excessive indulgent nouns, verbs, and in unfortunate cases over-liberal, free-thinking, artsy mumbo-jumbo like my own here..conclusively welding the beginning of the sentence…..all the way to the period at the end of this one. PHEW! On the right.

What the hell am I getting at? Whether we can admit it or not, we need each other. We are apparently counterparts that are not going away anytime soon, and ultimately responsible for each other, no matter how independent we make ourselves out to be, or fraudulently satisfied, married, or separated.

It’s actually funny watching ALT-LEFT, and ALT-RIGHT: our favorite new team names in America, one bearing Alternative-Facts, and the other blurting out Fake-News- even though we are all breathing the same air….it’s funny observing the insistence that one is more free and independant than the other, as the hypocrisy has no way of expanding or even existing without the polar-resistance or validity of the other.

I’m really hoping for an exciting and non-staged NFL season this year to be honest.

Yes, many of us flaming-broiled, gay-hippy art students and starving musicians and trans-gender compromised Obummer loving Satanists do like football season, and you would be surprised at how much else we have in common.

I hope and urge any readers of this Goulash I’ve cooked up, to take a chance this frisky fall season and make an effort to see things through different colored lenses. And practice sharing why we are different without so much biblical fear and rally to war against each other.

We can settle this like our families and friends did on Sunday mornings from the 60s up to before Internet world made it safe for us to fling our self-righteous ladels of goulash at each other.

We talked to each other, and disagreed, while watching football, helping mom cook and clean up dinner, and went back to our day-jobs Monday morning.

Some of us even whistling and full of healthy new insights about ourselves, maybe even a few bucks in our pockets from that secret NFL bet with Pa.

We had a term for commitment to each other back in the day…Grown-ups!

Pass the gravy, please!~




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