Got Nuthin’ To Say…

I Got Nuthin’ To Say…So It’s Better To Shut Up Than Blab Away!

That’s to borrow from the Def Leppard tune, “Pyromania,” which starts with the line “I got somethin’ to say…That it’s better to burn out than fade away!”

I am one who is wont to say what’s on my mind, damn the torpedoes, but lately I’ve taken a couple of direct hits from the depth charges and they’re getting closer. This stuff is cryptic on purpose. If “they” knew I was talking about them, they’d send the rest of the rack (of depth charges) raining down on me.

So it’s better to shut up, I guess. Or I’ll be fading away pretty fast here.

As I said, I’m wont to speak my mind but recently that has gotten me into unimaginable trouble where previously such actions had garnered nothing but accolades. No more, no more. The regime has changed and the new emperor doesn’t like my hat, much less my clothes. “Do you like my hat?” “No, I do not.” (From the book “Go Dog Go!” from the Seuss line.)

I’ve really had to rein in my tongue the past several weeks. I’m not even sure if it has been noticed by those that promulgated the gag. But it has been noticed very much by the folks who used to benefit from my constant presence. I have been known somewhat as a “Mr. Aloha,” never refusing a friend who needs a hand. All those folks would need do is call Blaine and they’d see results almost immediately. No more, no more.

These days I “hide” in my cave, limiting my exposure to my former benefactors. They are confused. When I see them at the shopping center or on the street they flag me down, come running over. “Eh, where you been? Can you come over? I need help!”

I need to explain that I can’t do that any more, and it breaks my heart.

Trouble with me is I don’t know how to say no. I never thought it was supposed to be part of my vocabulary. It was my responsibility to help where I could; to further the cause first, before worrying about other things. The idea was to stamp out the problems, put out the forest fires before going back to laying in sidewalks and wheelchair ramps.

Sounds logical to me, but not to the powers that be.

I am no longer “Smokey the Bear.” Put out your own damned forest fire. I gotta go patch this roof. #&%*@#!!!

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