Friday, December 8, 2017

In my funny way.

I suspect that many comedians live their humorous skits. In real life. Similar to the way I do. As a would-be stand-up comic. Performing at a comedy club. With a mix of self-styled humor. Some hurtful and offensive. Yes, I risk living dangerously. On and off stage. For the raucous laughs. Testing my routine. On friends. And strangers, too. Pushing the limits. Maybe I go too far. Doing a put-on. Pretending I’m serious. When, of course, I’m not. To the humorless and strait-laced, I may not be the least bit funny. But I proceed. Poking riotous fun. At those who don’t get it. I feed off them. They are the butts of many of my jokes. Yes. Yes. I concede.  I’m a little bit cruel. Trying to succeed. In my funny way. --Jim Broede

An art. We taught each other.

I’m capable of unconditional love. Yes, I dare say it. But one never knows. For sure. Unless put to the test. I’d like to think. That maybe I have. Only my creator knows. I’ll abide by his definition. For which I have a clue. All I know. Is that I stuck with dear wife Jeanne. Through thick and thin. For 38 years. Even when she had Alzheimer’s. I wasn’t always the perfect care-giver. But I genuinely tried. Right up to the end. Even now. Ten years after Jeanne’s death. I feel love. Of course, I’ve gotten on with life. That’s what Jeanne would have wanted me to do. I speculate. That Jeanne’s spirit. Has intervened. To see to it. That I remain happy. And in love. With life. She put my Italian amore, Cristina. On my life’s glide path. To see to it. That I remain happy for the remainder of my Earthly life. Jeanne is looking down on me. At this very moment. From her perch in spiritual paradise. Smiling. Over the thought. That I have cultivated a second true love. With whom, I’ll spend the upcoming holidays. In France. Jeanne isn’t the least bit jealous. Instead, she’s practicing the virtue of unconditional love. It’s an art. That we taught each other. --Jim Broede

Thursday, December 7, 2017

Unconditional friendships.

I’m willing to forgive my senator, Al Franken, for his indiscretions. Being disrespectful to women. But that’s really not my call. It’s up to the women. To forgive or not to forgive. It’s easier for me. I’m not the victim. I’d not do what Franken did. Thing is. I consider Franken a friend, of sorts. Though I’ve never met him. But what I’ve seen of him. Convinces me that he’s a funny comedian and a decent human being. With foibles, of course, like most every politician. He’s been good for Minnesota. And I’d vote for him again and again. Because he’s for what I deem a very moral political agenda. Yes. Yes. He needs to cultivate more respect for women. Which I have faith he will do. I sense he’s learned his lesson.  And that he will be a better man (and senator) for it. Like everyone else, Franken isn’t perfect. But he’s a good enough politician. For me. Fair and mostly honest and forthcoming. Willing to cross the aisle. To get things done. Anyway, count me as a forgiving guy. Especially when it comes to my dearest friends. Yes, I believe in unconditional friendships. --Jim Broede

Finding my way. To the lounge.

I lounge for a day. Without feeling guilty. Yes, I’ve come to this. Enjoying life. My way. Without guilt. Instead. Here I am. Defending my right to lounge. To take the day off. Doing as I please. Without an ounce of guilt. I’m not obligated. To do something useful and practical. For the benefit of others. I was put on this Earth. To make time. To lounge. It’s a mission. That I long neglected. But alas, I have found my way. To the lounge. --Jim Broede

Life ain't always fair.

When will the moral outrage end? If I were to compare (judge) the immorality of Al Franken versus the political and social and economic immorality of Donald Trump. No doubt about it. Trump ends up the less moral one. But could be. That Trump gets away with it. And serves a full-term as president. While Franken leaves the Senate. Is that equal justice? And what if Roy Moore gets elected, next Tuesday, to the U.S. Senate? Another sign. That life ain’t always fair. Makes one wonder. If there’s such a thing as equal justice. Consider, too. Some of us, by chance, are afflicted with Alzheimer’s. While others escape life with a fully intact mind. A matter of luck. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

When I flee to France.

My Trumpian friend Rosie. Tells me. Don’t let Trump bother you. It’s easy for Rosie to say. She adores Trump. She voted for him. And seems to have no regrets. Meanwhile, Rosie encourages me to get on with life. Reminding me. That there’s so much to savor. With or without Trump. Shouldn’t really matter. Whether Trump exists. It’s merely a matter of inconsequential politics. There’s much to life. Above and beyond politics. For instance. Later this month. I’m fleeing America. Going to France. To spend the holidays. With my Italian amore, Cristina. Yes. Yes. It makes sense. I’ll focus on Cristina and France. And all there’s to love and cherish about life. Far better than sinking into depression. Thinking about Trump and Hell. You are a wise woman, dear Rosie. You give me good advice. To ignore Hell and Trump. It’ll be a little easier. When I flee to France. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, December 5, 2017

To satisfy my curiosity.

Almost everyone I know. Quite well. Has serious problems. Which makes me think. That even the people I don’t know. Have serious problems, too. If so. We live in a problem-plagued world. Makes me wonder. What to do about it. This may sound selfish. Because most of my life. I’ve focused on solving my own problems. Rather than other people’s. That’s understandable. After all, I have so many problems – that I can’t possibly deal with ‘em all. I set priorities. And concentrate on the ones that get me by well enough. So that I can  cope with life. In a reasonably happy manner. What about the rest of you? Meanwhile, I’m looking for someone without any problems. To satisfy my curiosity. About whether such a being exists.--Jim Broede