It Was Almost Like A Song
Nothing too heavy today…
And, regarding my beloved chemical suit, I leave that to … what? Are you kidding me? None of you get that. I’m taking it with me. Bury me in it!
—The Last Will and Testament of Tom B. Taker, Chapter 1, Section A, Article 1
As most of you know, I have been busy most of the last few decades planning my wake. A wise man in a Stephen King movie once said, “Get busy living or get busy dying” and I took to that advice to heart like a leading a guru to tequila and telling him not to drink.
Of course this planning primarily took the form of picking out songs that participants (guests? attendees? celebrants? wakers? invitees? z-list celebs?) would, at least once, get to enjoy my eclectic taste in music.
I thought it was a pretty good plan. Besides, nothing pleases me more than the thought of people coming together to remember my life and having to listen to some random songs while they are left to ponder, “What the hell is this crap supposed to convey to us about Tom?” Ha ha ha! Suffer!
Then, this week, in the name of research, I attended the memorial service for a gentleman I knew and I thought to myself, “See? This is what happens when you fail to plan and allow your loved ones to pick the music on your behalf.”
Actually, I didn’t really know the man that well. He was the father of one friend and the husband of another. After attending the service I have to say I regret not knowing him better. He was a great guy, the kind who would give away the shirt off his back, always with a warm smile at the ready, and the sort who could cheer people up even when the chips were down.
I also knew him from the liquor store where he seemed friendly enough as he handed me bottle after bottle for several years before he got sick. See? We just went full circle. From tequila to the liquor store and back again. That’s what this guru calls the circle of life.
This post will document the set list that was used to send this soul on its way back home.
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Mouthy Gift Horse Shit
Way back on Dec. 1, 2011, I made a threat right here on this very blog:
This comic is just the teaser. A bit of foreshadowing, as it were. The actual post I estimate will be about 20,000 words. Or two-fifths of a novel. It’s “coming soon.”
–Tom B. Taker
The day has finally come to back up that threat. I’ve dumped the voluminous manuscript already in progress and will briefly freestyle the story just for you. For a bonus I’ll append a surprise recent twist.
You shouldn’t look a gift horse in the ass even if that’s the only face he ever presents. Or something like that.
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Trampling is supposed to be fun
The Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving Eve. Just enough time to get in one more shot of negativity before the day the shit steps off and I pause my normal routing to give thanks.
Tomorrow brings my annual benediction of hope and light. In guru parlance it’s known as the blind spot. But I’ll be back to form by Friday in time for hottest shopping day of the year.
May you shop until you drop.
And now, sing with me, won’t you?
It’s the most wonderful time of the year…
Thanking a teacher
I was driving home from work on Wednesday night and listening to some NPR show about teachers that you were thankful made some difference in your life. I can’t remember the name of the show or who was on, but some successful person had looked up one of his grade school teachers and the teacher was talking about how that had moved him.
The show got me thinking about teachers I have known.
There was Mrs. Simmons from the 1st grade. It surprises me I can still remember her name. She was a rather stern woman who looked a lot like Aunt Bee from Mayberry RFD.
I also remember my 2nd grade teacher. She was a beautiful woman and I had the hots for her. Seriously. It was true love. Not a crush. Yes, I started early. I’m a little bit sad I no longer remember her name.
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