Author: Fred Blahnik

I am introducing a new feature today spotlighting our neighbors to the east–the Green Bay Packer professional football team together with their bloviating, insufferable fans.  This new feature will consist of a popular, well-known Christmas carol as its foundation, but then genetically altered with original, copyrighted lyrics by me focusing on the Green Bay Packer football team and their current plight.  I hope you’ll enjoy and be amused by this limited, seasonal offering!

 

This is the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

(Traditional Christmas carol sung to the original melody, but with new lyrics created by Fred Blahnik)
This is the most wonderful time of the year!
With Scott Walker jingle-belling
And Republican law-makers shouting “Be of good cheer!”
This is the most wonderful time of the year!
This is the hap-happiest season of all!

With fake holiday greetings and back-stabbing, rancorous meetings
When Mark Murphy comes to call
This is the hap- happiest season of all!

There’ll be Aaron Rodgers for boasting
Mike McCarthy for roasting
And making excuses out in the snow
There’ll be scary Clay Matthews stories
And tales of the glories of
making the play-offs long, long ago….

This is the most wonderful time of the year!
There’ll be much overdrinking
And hearts will be sinking
When Mason Crosby is near
This is the most wonderful time of the year!

There’ll be Aaron Rodgers for boasting
Mike McCarthy for roasting
And making excuses out in the snow
There’ll be scary Clay Matthews stories
And tales of the glories of
making the play-offs long, long ago…..

This is the most wonderful time of the year!
There’ll be much overdrinking
And hearts will be sinking
When Mason Crosby is near
This is the most wonderful time
This is the most wonderful time
This is the most wonderful time
This is the most wonderful time of the yeeeeeeeeeear!!!!!

…..is lying supine while thinking–Just thinking…..pondering…..contemplating…..assessing…..nothing else!!–an innate waste of time? Must one be physically or intellectually active to justify one’s earthly existence and in the process avoid scorn?  I don’t know for sure, but I suppose not.  Genius and orthodoxy are not compatible.  All novel, groundbreaking ideas irrefutably originate in the mind first, not when one is feverishly washing the car or shopping for groceries or punching a time-clock while struggling to earn a regular weekly paycheck. Unimpeded thinking is the seed of inspiration.  Do you REALLY think  scientist extraordinaire Stephen Hawking would have realized his full genius if he had been physically whole, and thus fully capable of pursuing any number of bodily endeavors?  Of course not!!!  Like it or not, Hawking had all that free time on his hands to just think and conjecture, and the extraordinary profundities that came gushing out of his brain as a result were downright astonishing.  Thinking while doing nothing else has acquired a bad reputation for perpetuity, and is commonly derided as a sanctuary for the slackards and bohemians of the world.  Yet it is undeserving of this putrid reputation.  Actions are a crucial part of any real life equation, certainly, but non-stop actions sans a reasonable amount of forethought are intrinsically foolish and emblematic of beautiful time wasted…..

…..though he was eulogized and lionized as a hero following his untimely death, George would have scoffed at that praise had he still been alive. He didn’t think giving his own life in order to save another’s–even that of a perfect stranger–was unusual or heroic in any way.  The fact he was infatuated with living and in love with mortality notwithstanding, George didn’t value his life any more than those of others; in his mind they were all equal, and thus equally deserving of extension.  Such being the case, taking a bullet to the heart so that someone else might live longer just seemed like the right thing to do at the time.  Just the right and ethical thing to do, ya know what I mean? All lives are intrinsically created equal, and in a perfect world no one individual’s right to live should supercede any other’s.  It perplexed him to no end that not everyone felt the same way…..

Mental illness is typically NOT just a plain absolute, with all its dreadful victims ensconced within nuthouses–restrained in clumsy straitjackets and leering like Hannibal Lector–while receiving electric shock treatments coupled with monstrous doses of lithium every day of the week. Rather, in easily the greatest majority of cases, true mental illness manifests in varying gradations of intensity, ranging from very trivial to very severe.  You can see these gradations in every direction you turn, whether it is “collecting” versus hoarding, “hot-tempered” versus uncontrolled anger, “methodical” versus obsessive/compulsive, “high-strung” versus wanton anxiety, “on guard” versus paranoid, “rambunctious” versus suffering from attention deficit disorder, etc., etc., etc.  I hope you’re getting the general idea by now:  One does not have to be a complete basket case frantically gulping down handfuls of serotonin re-uptake inhibitors or Haloperidol to be experiencing mental illness.  No, you can see it all around you in a whole lot of individuals in sundry degrees of severity.  But what is the common denominator connecting this disparate group of sufferers, you ask?  Almost without exception, these people would all vehemently deny and scoff at the suggestion that they suffer from any form of mental illness whatsoever, acutely aware of the onerous stigma which attends mental illness and which unfortunately is still so prevalent in today’s so-called “modern” society.

Old Fossil received a Nike shoe catalog in the mail one day purely by accident. But—not having anything better to do with his time in yet another long, dreary day—he decided to peruse the publication.  And as he paged through the catalog which showcased state-of-the-art athletic footwear, he suddenly stopped when he got to one page and his gaze froze on one particular pair of sneakers.  His wife—who was sitting right next to him on the living room sofa watching her favorite soap opera—noticed this and smiled.  “Wilbur…..I see that you’re looking through the shoe catalog that came in the mail today.  Did you find something in there that you really like?”  Old Fossil shook his head in the affirmative.  “Yes, Mildred, I did.  I surely did indeed!!  This pair of shoes right here….these here Air Jordans”—and he stopped talking at this juncture to jab an index finger at the opened catalog page—“are just about the greatest thing I’ve seen since Herbert Hoover was president and Prohibition ended!” His wife smiled more broadly.  “Then why don’t you buy them, Wilbur?!  You hardly ever purchase anything, least of all for yourself!”  Old Fossil scrunched up his face like he had just swallowed a big gulp of castor oil.  “I would, Mildred, I would…..but, y’know, there’s one thing about this pair of shoes that I really don’t like, and it’s a big, BIIIIIG drawback, let me tell you!”  Mildred glanced down at the pair of shoes once again, and her jaw plummeted then when she noticed the price associated with the pair of shoes her husband had fallen in love with.  “Oh my God, Wilbur, I see what you mean!  They’re asking three hundred dollars for your favorite pair of shoes.  What…..are those things made out of gold and platinum and accented with pink diamonds?!  I agree with you, Wilbur, that’s a totally ridiculous price to ask for just one pair of sneakers!!”  Old Fossil just smiled and shook his head, but this time in the negative.  “Actually, the price doesn’t bother me one bit, Mildred.  You know that I have nearly a million dollars stashed away in savings accounts in various financial institutions, so this pair of shoes would merely be a drop in the bucket compared to that sum of money.  No, there’s one giant flaw ruining this pair of otherwise knock-‘em-dead sneakers, and it doesn’t have a damned thing to do with the price they’re asking either!”  Mildred had grown a tad annoyed by this point in time at her husband’s smug reticence, and thus responded with an unmistakable tone of sarcasm in her voice.  “Well, tell me then, Wilbur:  What exactly is this ‘giant flaw’ you’ve identified with your gold-plated, three-hundred-dollar pair of sneakers that are fit for a king??”  Old Fossil was swift in retorting.  “That’s easy, Mildred.  The damned things have old-fashioned shoelaces to tie instead of Velcro straps!!”

No matter how daunting a task looming in front of you may seem—–JUST START IT!!!!! You won’t know for sure whether or not you can accomplish the damned thing unless you actually dig in and try!  A lot of endeavors look virtually impossible on the surface when viewed at a distance through a long-range lens, but then once you become immersed in the experience a whole new set of possibilities open up that weren’t clearly visible at the outset.  Life is chronically embroiled in a dizzying state of flux, as are the smaller units within it that we more familiarly call days, hours, and minutes.  Thus don’t ever be intimidated into not starting a scary project out of fear of not being able to finish it.  Instead, constantly strive to remember this transcendent corollary:  Failing honorably as the direct consequence of a noble effort is nothing to be ashamed of!!!  You did your best–all your body was physically capable of doing–and that’s the only part of the grand equation that genuinely matters!!!!!

You don’t think you are a leader; you intuitively KNOW you are a leader. Followers busily think, while leaders instinctively react.  Leaders reflexively take action, while followers sit around wringing their hands and waiting for inspiration.  Leaders never ask for directions; they instantly GIVE directions without ever stopping to think about pecking orders or hierarchies.

…..when he awoke in the morning the weather outside was cold, drizzly, disagreeable……depressing as hell really. He decided it would be a good day to stay inside and do something productive in that comfortable environment, yet nothing instantly sprang to mind that even remotely piqued his interest.  Such being the case, he rolled over in bed and resolved to go back to sleep, even though his body felt well-rested and he wasn’t the least bit tired anymore.  After all, why fight such a tantalizing impulse and pretend to be all gung-ho when there was nothing better to do than lay in bed and contemplate abstract issues?…..

I started a tiny rumor. The thing grew bigger and bigger until it morphed into a colossus and next it spread like wildfire, engulfing everything in its destructive path.  The rumor is not tiny anymore.  The wildfire it spawned has run amok and is now arrantly out of control, and a pristine reputation has been destroyed in the process.  The only residua left behind in this conflagration’s wake are scorched earth and massive regrets.  All the result of just a tiny rumor which I was responsible for starting with no forethought as to what its exponential consequences might turn out to be…..

Quitting is like a disease that swiftly metastasizes throughout your body. Once it infiltrates your system and manages to gain a tiny foothold, it is almost as difficult to expunge from your body as tuberculosis or pancreatic cancer–and, yes, it is every bit as devastating and debilitating in the long run as those better-known, fearsome organic monsters.   The aforementioned maladies kill from within, while “Quitting syndrome”–over time–destroys from without.