No, I didn’t go crazy and flee. I didn’t get screwed either. It’s just that after all these years, coming up with an original post title is increasingly difficult. My first thought was “stuff about things,” but when I did a search, I saw that I’ve used that five times over the years. So, nuts and bolts it is!

The pending arrival of my seventieth year has been on my mind a lot lately. It’s a milestone I suppose I never thought I’d live to see. But here I am. I’m sure I’ll get used to these emotions I’ve been feeling, but damn, turning another page in the story of my life feels like the start of the final chapter. I’m hopeful it will be a LONG one!

Anyway, it is easy to forget that I’m an elderly man because I don’t feel old. I often joke and say in response to the “age is just a number” line that I’m thirty years old. Honestly, I don’t feel all that old, but something about seventy just can’t be denied. That said, I’m still doing the things I enjoy such as walking and drinking pretty much like I always have, although maybe in somewhat smaller doses. The biggest change I’ve noted is the cognitive decline, especially in terms of memory and attention span. I guess if that continues, at some point I won’t know or care about it.

We never know how much time we have left, and everything can change in the blink of an eye. I was reminded of that while walking this morning. We were on SBMA, and I was walking facing traffic on a narrow elevated footpath. This being the Philippines, there was a power pole blocking the sidewalk in front of me, so I stepped into the road to move around it. Then I hear a horn blow and a car goes racing past inches away from me as it illegally passed a vehicle in the other lane. Damn, that was close. I yelled a hearty “fuck you!” and flipped him the bird. So, I haven’t made seventy yet. Here’s hoping!

Beckie, ex-wife number two, posted this on Facebook yesterday (yes, we are still Facebook friends):

Fable: DON’T ARGUE WITH DONKEYS

The donkey said to the tiger:

– “The grass is blue”.

The tiger replied:

– “No, the grass is green.”

The discussion heated up, and the two decided to submit him to arbitration, and for this they went before the lion, the King of the Jungle.

Already before reaching the forest clearing, where the lion was sitting on his throne, the donkey began to shout:

– “His Highness, is it true that the grass is blue?”.

The lion replied:

– “True, the grass is blue.”

The donkey hurried and continued:

– “The tiger disagrees with me and contradicts and annoys me, please punish him.”

The king then declared:

– “The tiger will be punished with 5 years of silence.”

The donkey jumped cheerfully and went on his way, content and repeating:

– “The Grass Is Blue”…

The tiger accepted his punishment, but before he asked the lion:

– “Your Majesty, why have you punished me?, after all, the grass is green.”

The lion replied:

– “In fact, the grass is green.”

The tiger asked:

– “So why are you punishing me?”.

The lion replied:

– “That has nothing to do with the question of whether the grass is blue or green.

The punishment is because it is not possible for a brave and intelligent creature like you to waste time arguing with a donkey, and on top of that come and bother me with that question.”

The worst waste of time is arguing with the fool and fanatic who does not care about truth or reality, but only the victory of his beliefs and illusions. Never waste time on arguments that don’t make sense…

There are people who, no matter how much evidence and evidence we present to them, are not in the capacity to understand, and others are blinded by ego, hatred and resentment, and all they want is to be right even if they are not.

When ignorance screams, intelligence is silent. Your peace and quietness are worth more.

The obvious moral of the story is to ignore the libtard’s rants. But during the ten years I was married to Beckie, I was a Democrat and she wasn’t. That wasn’t at the root of our breakup or anything, and I don’t recall us arguing over politics much. But it did start me thinking about those years we shared and how we came to be together in the first place.

I first met Beckie during one of my visits to the farm in Poteau, Oklahoma, to see my kids who were staying there with my parents. I attended a gathering hosted by my brother’s then-wife, and Beckie was there as well. My girlfriend back in Arizona was going to graduate school to be a speech pathologist. That was Beckie’s profession, so we talked about her work. Later, I was introduced to the man who had been smilingly watching us from across the room–Beckie’s husband.

Anyway, fast forward a year or two, and I took a job in the nearby city of Fort Smith, Arkansas. One day, Beckie’s husband was clearing the road to their house and was killed when the tractor he was operating flipped over, leaving a widow and baby daughter behind.

Another year or two went by, and I was looking for a partner to help me raise my kids. Beckie filled the bill, and I married her. I got promoted at work and we moved to South Carolina shortly thereafter. She did a great job with my kids and is still actively involved in their lives as a loving grandmother. She is one of the nicest people I’ve met in this lifetime. She deserved better than my cheating ways and found it after our divorce. So, there you have another episode in the story of my life.

Speaking of which, I came across this article talking about Plato solving the problem of evil. The concepts taxed my weary brain, but the ideas about the multiverse and how all the paths you did or didn’t take in life have been lived out by you in a different universe gave me some hope that my dream of a “do-over” life may be within the realm of possibility, God willing, of course.

Yesterday was Thursday, and Swan and I did our own little walk. Taking advantage of rainless skies (that didn’t last), we braved taking the back way up to the My Bitch trail and had a pleasant stroll through the hills.

Another plan for my dotage years is to take a trip out of town at least once every month. I’m set for Angeles City in September. Swan wants to go back to Pundaquit in October. And yesterday I booked flights and hotel rooms for Siragao Island at the end of November. That trip will include all the neighbors here on Bryce Street.

When beer o’clock arrived, Swan wanted a massage, so I chilled in Alley Cats for an hour. I was the only customer during my visit. When Swan was done getting rubbed, we met at Mango’s for dinner. Yep, we stuck with the pork chops like we always do.

After dinner, we moseyed up the highway to Queen Victoria for our nightcap. They had a pool tourney going on, so we weren’t the only customers this time. Queen Vic is hosting tonight’s SOB, and although it is an excellent venue for the show, I’m going to take a pass this time.

Steven King has always been one of my favorite writers, although his political views are more than a little off-putting. Never noticed his leftism in his books, but then, I used to be one, so maybe it seemed normal then. Anyway, he posted something on X mocking Trump’s grammar. Turns out, King’s was just as bad. Maybe he needs to sign up for Kevin Kim’s Substack.

In the LTG archives from February 2012, I recount the adventure of climbing Bukhansan in Seoul. This was before hiking became my daylight pastime.

Today’s YouTube has a 70-year-old expat sharing some of the lessons he’s learned now that he is elderly. I can relate.

Humor never gets old. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

And that’s all I’ve got to say about that. For today, anyway.