I can still choose to be in love.

I feel good today. Mainly because I've reminded myself that I have virtually no control over world events. Things happen. Yes, even shit happens. And I know that the world is full of villains. Uncaring capitalists. People that will screw me. And you, too. People like Tony Hayward, CEO of British Petroleum. And pundits such as Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck. Idiot Republicans. Yes, the Sarah Palins of the world. On and on the list goes. But I'm able to more or less isolate myself from all of these and this. And still enjoy life. By controlling my day. In my little cocoon. My little niche in the world. I am still free to be a romantic idealist, a free-thinker, a liberal and a lover. In my own way. I can still be a happy being. Because I can still choose to be in love. With someone. With life. No matter what is happening in the rest of the world. --Jim Broede

And he looks out for No. 1.

I don't feel a bit sorry for Tony Hayward, CEO of British Petroleum (BP). But Hayward feels sorry for himself. And that takes chutzpah. BP is responsible for an environmental disaster, a continuing massive oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. "I'm sorry," Hayward said. "We're sorry for the massive disruption it's caused...There's no one who wants this over more than I do. I'd like my life back." Poor Tony. At least he has a life. The accident on the BP oil drilling rig 40 miles off the Louisiana coast claimed 11 lives. Tony also has his annual salary of $4.5 million. The guy will not only survive, but he'll live comfortably. Because he's a greedy capitalist who knows how to milk the system. And he looks out for No. 1. --Jim Broede

Hallelujah!

The bureaucracy came through for me today. Delivered. Oh, it feels so good. For the umpteenth time on Tuesday, my New York Times wasn't delivered to me. The Times may be efficient in getting news reports correct. But the Times' circulation department is gawd-awful. If a delivery is missed, I'm promised a replacement copy. The same day. Or the next day, at the latest. But for several years, I never got a replacement copy. In maybe a dozen tries. So I started telling the Times representative, don't give me promises. Because it's all bullshit. You don't deliver. Your circulation department sucks. But today, after I complained vehemently, the New York Times came through. I got Tuesday's paper. A replacement copy. As promised. Hallelujah! --Jim Broede

No more Mr. Nice Guy.

I want to see Barack Obama lose his temper. And go into a holy rage. For weeks on end. I'm sick and tired of seeing Obama keep his cool. He needs to get pissed. To really let go. To cuss and curse. Take on everyone. Become indignant. Furious. Spare no one from his outrage. Yes, that's the Obama I want to see. I want him to take on BP, aka British Petroleum. Have his administration bring criminal charges against BP executives. Seize control of BP, if necessary. Confiscate their billions of dollars in profits for the clean-up of the gulf and the wetlands. And tell the Republicans to go to hell. Push his agenda. And trample over the opposition. No more pussyfooting. Obama has been too well-mannered. Too compromising. Too nice. Yes, Barack Obama. I want to see your vicious side. No more Mr. Nice Guy. --Jim Broede

During the Alzheimer's sojourn.

I have an opportunity to go back to work. On a part-time basis. As a care-giver. For two dementia patients. I'm good at it. Because I honed my skills. As a care-giver for 13 years. For my beloved Jeanne. But the fact is, I'm retired. Have been. For 12 years. And I'm 74. Maybe it's a misnomer to say I'm retired. I'm really very active. Busy, one might say. I write every day. Even more writing than I did before retiring. Only now I write what I want to write. Mostly for pleasure. And for mental stimulation. I also walk at least 6 miles daily. And I garden. And I'm pursuing a life of romance. Love. I have an Italian girlfriend. We're in daily contact. Through an audio-video hook-up. And we visit each other. In Europe. And in the USA. We travel together. This summer it'll be in Central Europe. So, should I take on additional activity? Such as care-giving. Well, I'm thinking it might spread me too thin. I want to continue writing. Daily. And pursue a love life. Daily. So I think maybe the answer is to tutor care-givers. Share my wisdom. Demonstrate. Maybe even write about care-giving. And what it takes. I've been there. I made lots of mistakes. But I learned. On the job. By trial and error. And I think I finally got it right. In the process, I got my life together. I've learned how to live. To savor life. And I give much of the credit to Jeanne. She was my best teacher ever. During the Alzheimer's sojourn. --Jim Broede

Do executioneers have insomnia?

I marvel at states and nations that choose to execute people. I think it's sick. Legalized murder. And the way we execute people. In some locales, we chop off their heads. Hanging and firing squads seem to be the most popular methods. Leave it to the USA to devise one of the more gruesome ways. The electric chair. I think that's been abandoned now. In favor of lethal injections. But imagine being strapped into a chair and having high-powered electric current shot through your body. You get literally fried. Back in the old days, some countries burned the likes of Joan d'Arc at the stake. And then there was that fella Jesus. He got nailed to a cross. Guess the ancient Romans believed in a slow, agonizing form of death. I wonder about the people who volunteer to be the executioners. Must take a murderous temperament to throw the switch or light the fire or swing the axe or pull the trigger or open the trap door or inject the lethal dose. I wonder if executioneers ever have trouble sleeping. --Jim Broede

I'd stop short of execution.

I want a world government that prosecutes high crimes against the environment. And the penalties should be roughly equivalent to the high crimes against humanity. After all, they are almost one and the same. I'm for putting BP, aka British Petroleum, on trial. For the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. At the very least, BP should be required to pay all of the costs of clean-up. Even if that puts the corporation out of business. And BP's high-ranking executives should be put in prison for the rest of their lives. At hard labor. Cleaning out cesspools. And hauling manure. I'd stop short of execution. Because I'm opposed to capital punishment, period. Even for the most dastardly of crimes. --Jim Broede