Eight Feet Deep

It is difficult to imagine a world without Bo Diddley. “Hey, Bo Diddley” is about as an American chant as is “Hey, get offa my lawn.” But alas, our world today is Diddley-less as Bo Diddley checked out at age 79.

I didn’t know Diddley but that isn’t unusual because I didn’t know many rock n’ roll R & B legends although I think Ivory Joe Hunter visited our home once when I was a child and I chatted with Percy Sledge as he listed to an Astros game in his limo out in back of the old Texas Pelican Club in Vinton, La., although I doubt Percy remembers that or what he was doing five minutes before for that matter.

But I did see Diddley. He was the opening act, followed by Tower of Power, for Creedence Clearwater Revival at the very first rock concert I saw in Houston’s old Sam Houston Coliseum back in the early 70s. The fact that it was my first concert and that I got to see Diddley as well as my favorite band back then — Creedence not Tower of Power although they were pretty stout — and the fact that it was the 70s was … Oh, I forgot what I was going to say but it was a pretty good time to be alive and young.

So Hey Bo Diddley. Take it light, man.

After taking a final bag of my ex-sig-other’s personal belongings to FedEx it occurred to me that society must benefit from failed relationships much more than we think.

A case in point is this bag of photos, videos, etc. which I shipped to Indiana this morning. A tab of $27.50 for this small shipment nonetheless contributes to the wheel of industry. Everyone and their dog gets a penny or two just because I made an errant choice in finding a girlfriend. The mail store gets their share, the box manufacturer, FedEx, the truck driver, the petrochemical industry, of course, shrinks, Dr. Phil, etc.

Just a couple of weeks ago I took some of her clothes she left behind to Goodwill. She had a few good things in the bunch, certainly a couple of nice coats which will keep someone warm this Winter, no matter that one nice jacket has a girl’s name embroidered on the breast.

This must sound like I am trying to find the bad among the dismal to which I must readily confess. But really, I have already sorted out my feelings long ago and saw how I came out way ahead in this mess. More, I am just hoping to throw out a general sentiment of there being good to come from that what is not good, at least in some cases. I am sure you already know that but it doesn’t hurt to have someone remind you every now and then.

So consider yourself reminded. Now go back to sleep.

My bosses at Uncle Sam Inc. have placed me on the injured list due to their interpretation of a note written by my orthopedic surgeon. Just because the doctor writes I shouldn’t do any work with my right hand doesn’t necessarily mean I can’t work with my right hand does it? Oh well, in Fed parlance the status is “continuation of pay” so I am off work with pay until the doctor straightens this out. And this is bad, how?

Poor Scotty McClellan. During his tenure as Bush Jr.’s White House press secretary, the son of former Texas Comptroller Carole Keeton McClellan Rylander Pensworth Foghorn Legorn, never enjoyed anything that resembled respect from practically anyone except perhaps his marrying-loving mother.

Now Scotty has all grown up, left the White House and has written a tell-all in which he says the public was fed a bunch of propaganda by the Bush gang and that the press didn’t do enough reporting before the Iraq war began to let the public know how much crap was being fed to our fellow country persons. No! Really??

In the Washington war of words, Scotty will never win. He will be seen as a traitor to his loyalty-crazed former cohorts. The press will beat him silly because of the obvious part he played in feeding the media a heady dose of crap. His Momma probably will love him though. And the proof that young Scott will come out ahead will be in the bags of cash he takes to the bank.

Is this a great nation or what?

John McCain and your president of these U.S. of A’s are to make a rare appearance together in Phoenix. Apparently, Gee Dubya will throw a bundle of cash out the window of his limo as McCain speeds by in the opposite direction riding on the back of a Harley. Not really, but their time together will be kind of minimalist.

It makes me wonder if Bush will even be allowed inside the GOP National Convention, not that I plan to watch one way or the other.