Time is but a fleeting moment. We all seem to have the time to make sure our breath doesn’t smell, but have we really taken the time to be totally truthful with our fellow man and say, “Mint or no mint, your breath stinks?” When will our nation own up to what it has been doing since it left school? It never writes, never calls, not even a postcard, and after all the nights I’ve waited up for it to come home. I mean, really! That’s the thanks I get. But I digress.
We are living in tough times. What with the Raelians buying up every living being in the heavens and on Earth and the possibility that double-knit polyester leisure suits may be coming back in style, I don’t know how I can stand the pressure. Let’s get back to some original values. Free handguns and 90 proof rot-gut for everyone. And before children are allowed to go to kindergarten, we must instill in them some sense of community mob mentality, so that when teachers ask them to recite the alphabet, they can respond, “Up against the wall, you imperialist dog. We won’t take any more of your establishment dogma!”
But given the ramifications of the ever fluctuating petro-dollar, I believe that we will see in our lifetime. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? But getting back to where I originally started ... probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Besides, Mother probably wouldn’t want me back in anyway, what with her Limburger and arthritis pain formula and all. But can we really get back to the future? As the greatest sage and philosophical genius of our time Yogi Berra said, “The future ain’t what it used to be.”
I think there’s a lesson in that for all of us.
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