Christmas Time is Near

Things have gotten weird.  Last night, I edited more videos and uploaded them to YouTube.  This morning I got this message.

My video was dangerous to children, they said, because it showed or promoted violence.  There were guns in the video.  I thought the video was strange which is why I titled it, "WTF???"  I mean, yea, I was a child with a gun in my hand.  It was strange, but. . . I don't know.  I feel as if I'm a victim of Tyrannical Censors.  Maybe I should have posted a message like, "Kids. . . Don't Try This at Home."  

This morning, I posted another Christmas video.  The guns are toys.  I hope I don't get dinged.  If I do, I won't be allowed to post more videos. . . and that would not be fair to YOU!  

This is just another lesson, though, in Existentialist existence, people battered by causes over which they have no control. As individuals, we can only control how we feel about the forces that rule us. That is all. By and large, people choose to ignore them. Climate change?  What can I do? The economy? I don't know. Politics? Oh, man. . . you know it is all rigged. War? As long as it is somewhere else.  


Etc.  

Onward.  

I woke up yesterday morning feeling shitty.  The night before, etc.  I was slow and didn't get out of the house until late.  I went to the Cop Shop to tell them about my stolen cameras that were sold at the camera store.  I was given Detective Deckard's phone number and called him from the station.  He didn't answer, so I left him a message.  

Then I went to the gym.  I walked in, let the nice lady scan my card, went to the weight room and turned around and walked back to the car.  I didn't think I could do it.  I sat in the car for a minute, though, and thought I needed to go back in.  

"Just do something.  Take it easy, but do something."

So I did.  I went back in for an easy peasy workout.  

When I got back to the car, I had a message from Detective Deckard telling me to call him.  I did.  I gave him the lowdown and he said he'd check his schedule and call me back.  

It seems we are to meet at the camera store today.  "It will take about an hour to fill out the forms," he said.  "Did they explain to you what will happen?"

"Do you mean that I have to buy my stolen goods back from the shop?"

"Yea."

"Yea."

"I like to get that out of the way because sometimes people don't find out until we get to the store and then they cause a scene."

 "Oh. . . I'm still going to cause a scene," I said.  No I didn't.  I just thought it.  It is somehow wrong to have to pay to get back your stolen goods, but that is the way it is.  I asked Deckard a few questions about what happens after that.  He said he would try to locate the thieves and then go and arrest them.  I thought about that.  That's kind of dangerous.  Imagine rolling up to somebody's house and telling them to turn around and put their hands against the wall. . . or whatever they do.  Your heart would have to be racing.  I don't usually think about this part of the job, of course.  I just think about them sitting in donut shops or hiding on side streets in order to hand out tickets.  

Yea, that part would be scary.  You only appreciate a cop when he's working for you.  Pretty much.  

So. . . here's the Hillbilly Xmas Boy opening his presents.  I don't know how old I am here.  Eight or nine, I would say.  I look like a ragged scarecrow.  I certainly wasn't cute.  You can't tell it, but I was smart, though.  Top of my class.  Reading far beyond my age group.  But I think I may have been a little unruly.  I'd have to go look, but I think I got "C's" in conduct.  It was probably too much sugar.  

It is another cloudy day.  It is Friday, but I have no plans.  Maybe I'll go out this early evening for sushi and a stroll through lighted streets.  But first. . . everything else.  Oy!