You Wake Up to a New Day, a New Year, a New New - Los Angeles Post-ExaminerLos Angeles Post-Examiner

You Wake Up to a New Day, a New Year, a New New

Top illustration by Jeff Worman

I closed my eyes and then my mind.

Reboot.

I closed my eyes … and then do the routine all over again.

Remembered where I was envisioning this day, years ago, even decades ago.

Maybe even yesterday or was it tomorrow?

Always not just somewhere else, but somewhen else.

Maybe I could evolve into an enlightened being or descend into a lesser self. My other choice just madness for the new year. Again. Most likely something in between. Or maybe lose a few pounds.

New Year’s Resolution?

Ha.

Somewhere better.

Somewhen better?

Another year?

Haven’t we had enough?

A better year for what?

Down the rabbit hole.

My neighbor shoots rabbits because they eat his wife’s flowers.

Except the plastic ones.

The raccoons try those.

Everything fake. Everything jaded. Everything a lie.

At best a half truth or a ‘we don’t know.’

(Jeff Wormnm)

Idk.

I was at the gym.

I don’t get enough exercise gathering wood in the dark. For the wood stove. Heat and something sooths my savage soul with fire.

I put on my Yak Trax, those rubber things over my boots with metal tread to save me from falling on the ice. Gloves and my axe.

The gym: you either get a bike in front of FOX, (pouty suits and foxes) the Home Bathroom Remodeling network, (people get all happy about a toilet they sit their fat asses on), some entertainers playing children’s’ games for people to have something to bet on, or some of the beautiful people sitting in a hot tub asking each other profound questions as if this has never been asked before. Before sleeping with them.

Of course, they are OK. All are. Me? Idk.

For now.

I listen to some music and read the captions. FOX has some doctor to match their approach being interviewed that knows everything.

The Omicron is now hailed as Nature’s Vaccine. You get sick, get all the antibodies, and you just have to live through it. Live happily ever after. Takes the place of science.

Availability of fake vax IDs.

Maybe borrow your phone for the vax app that says you’re good. Borrow your face, your eyes, your DNA signature.

5 day quarantine. Did they negotiate with the virus and sign an armistice? Used to be 14, then 10. That sounds good. Good for business, good for pro sports and working what’s left of the work force and work them to death.

Rewarded with a bag of chips.

What’s wrong with a chip implant? Or a laser tattoo on your forehead?

Not have to fumble for some frayed card in your wallet.

If you have none. Too bad, right? Slam the door in your face if you’re unworthy to shop, attend super spreaders or be an active member of society. No need for a glass ceiling as you don’t get in the door.

Who needs you? Go back to your sedentary world of gaming and TV, your bag of deep-fried salt flavored plastic and your GMO behavior modifications.

Replace everyone and everything with machines that never call in sick or never call in wasted. Never pull the trigger in fear or by accident and cost municipalities million-dollar lawsuits. The machines may be pricey up front, but they save lives and litigation.

It’s all changing.

Then I see Trump Jr. says that following Jesus got us nowhere.

Merry Christmas.

Ya think?

To paraphrase, it’s time to pounce on our adversaries and destroy them instead of turning the other cheek. They’re not talking about Russia or China. They’re talking about half of America. Sounds like 1939. But not quite closing time. Not yet, they haven’t rolled the credits.

What do I have to be grateful for as 2021 came to an end?

I’m glad, that in my lifetime, I got to see the Anti-Christ and his father on TV. I never did like that game show where he yells at women and made them cry. At least, during the few moments I saw him on one of the TVs at the gym, he wasn’t grabbing they coño.

New Year’s Resolution: even more exercise? And eat better? I already stay away from of deep-fried salt flavored plastic and your GMO behavior modifications.

So I called the Mukwonago Y, they don’t have a steam room, but they have a pool and a hot tub — not overrun by the Y children’s swim team like my local club in Lake Geneva.

Over the phone I say, “Now that the pandemic is over, do you again accept members again from other Y’s to use your club?”

I haven’t been there since early March of 2020.

She said, “Yes, just bring your card and photo ID.”

Things are going to be better for 2022.

Even better if I had an implant and I didn’t have to present an ID.

This way too I can get “Nature’s vaccine” in addition to the 3 doses from Uncle Sam I got at Walgreens.

Fox River in the Distance
(Jeff Worman)

This club too is bigger in Mukwonago. More monitors as well, on a second level. But I’ll still probably get stuck watching people remodeling their bathrooms on TV.

••• •••• ••••• •••• ••••

Closing note: Their pool and hot tube was closed with a sign just saying “Thanks for Understanding” and the monitor in front of me was again FOX, but TG no bathroom remodeling. Here on the machine that emulates cross country skiing I can look out at the prairie just before the Fox River. (No relation to the Fox network) Happy New Year.

 

 

 

 


About the author

Jeff Worman

Jeff Worman lives in Walworth County, Wisconsin where there is water and a crisp, cool night sky conducive to the creative process. He has been drawing and writing since he was able to hold a pencil in his hand. Worman started out as a high school intern at the Bugle-American, an alternative newspaper in Milwaukee, and was a founder and long standing contributor to the Crazy Shepherd which emerged from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee and is published currently as the Shepherd Express. Worman’s column The Hourly Why was conceived in 1982, published broadly in underground newspapers over the decades and can be found online today at www.thehourlywhy.com. He has a great love of the outdoors and champions charities by riding those long distance centuries on his road bike to raise funds. Contact the author. Contact the author.
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