Thursday, October 24, 2013

Far from the madding crowd

What matters
S. Shawcross / 16" x 20" / Oil on masonite /

I don't know why I called this "What matters". It is a view along the river further north of here. It is dusk with snow glistening on water and the sky its reflection. I suppose I called it this because what else could possibly matter if you are standing looking at dusk on a winter night. Peace knows no other expression but what we find in nature in our solitude. (Note: the horizon on the painting is actually straight. I just take bad pictures.)

HERE'S AN ALTERNATIVE VIEW ON POLITICIANS (but don't follow his advice)


Young'uns and voting

It's not so hard. All of you young'uns that have since high school vowed you'd never vote because it supports the existing system. It only encourages them you say, and you hate "them." The time has come for you to change your wicked ways. You must vote in your municipal election because it is the only seriously important vote where you can actually make a difference. If you care about the place you live in and all the creatures, beings, and wildlife in it, then you have to vote. Otherwise you are a hypocrite to say you love this planet. You don't love this planet if you don't vote. You don't. There is no other argument.

It's not hard now. Really it isn't. Voting, I mean. They send you a thing in the mail. It tells you where and when you can vote. You bring  the thing and a photo ID. You wander into the big room where pleasant bilingual people behind tables will greet you. Now I know you young'uns aren't used to looking at people in the eye or having a real life conversation anymore because of all  your handheld devices blitherbloos but it's just a short little few seconds of your life. After telling them your name and address (you can practice this out loud at home before you go) and presenting your card you don't even have to look at them. You can just thrust out your hand and they will give you a ballot. This is a piece of paper with names on it. You will be directed to a tidy little private booth where you look for the place where you can put a mark. They use pencils for this. Pencils are old-fashioned things that work rather well if you can figure out how to hold them. They are made of wood and lead. You use the pointed end to make  your mark next to the person you think might actually understand what they are doing. (More often than not, none of them do, they are, after all, politicians, so just do your best.)

You then leave the booth and hand your little ballot to the person behind the desk. They rip off something and put your ballot in the box. Try and watch to make sure they do this if only so you don't have to look anyone else in the eye and have an unfortunate conversation with spoken words. Then you skulk out. End of story. You have done your civic duty. You have proven to everyone that you love the planet you live on and are not just some hippie-crite with lots of foolish words and no substance hiding behind some "I don't vote" foolishness that everyone knows is foolish. You have proven to yourself and those who might notice that you are a responsible adult with a valued opinion who actually does care. 

Now go do this. Vote.

The truth of course is, nobody will be proud of you. You won't get a star. You won't win an award. Great throngs of admirers will not be standing outside the door when you come out of the voting place, cheering and whistling. BUT you will have the right to complain for another four years about anything and everything. If you don't vote you'll have to just sit like a lump in a corner without an opinion because nobody will respect a damn thing you might want to say. There's the brutal truth. At every party you go to, when you tell them you didn't vote, they will feed you blue-cheese nibblybits to keep you quiet. They will sit you next to the bathroom door for the whole evening just to be spiteful. They will ensure that your cell-phone handheld blitherbloo won't work in their house and they won't let you leave until after midnight. They will not be kind. Just so you know. You will be all alone without a blitherbloo or a friend. All alone sitting by the bathroom door with a plate of blue cheese nibblybits. I mean ALL ALONE. OUT OF CONTACT. ALONE with those things they used to call thoughts. (At least that's how it works at my place anyway.) Oh you poor thing. You can avoid this horrible situation by voting. Now go do this. Vote.

But never mind all that. I've received some rather inventive ideas for Chelsea's new slogan to replace the old one, i.e. Chelsea: The Environmentally Friendly Community. The winning slogan, picked by George, Me and the dog because nobody said this was a democracy, is: Chelsea--Spending Iz Us.  This slogan was actually one of the less naughty ones if the truth be known. Who knew Chelseaites were like this!

Also, I was pleased to see the pothole I mentioned in my last column right next to one of the election signs was filled in. Now… just a bit further down the road there is another one. Any chance that will be fixed before the election? Or is it just the ones with the election signs? Just wondering.

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