When I was a sprat of ten or so, my Uncle Bud used to send me into his house in search of unopened bottles of ale to serve as a replacement for the empty one he had just handed me. And when I appeared on the patio with the suds in hand, he used to say the same thing, as if by rote. He’d say, “Don’t fu>k up your back.”

As a kid, it never resonated with me, the funked up back warning. I guess, at the time, it just sounded like some old guy making excuses for his daily binge drinking. If they gave frequent flier miles for downing bottles of Ballantine ale, I figure my Uncle Bud would be half way across undiscovered galaxies by now. More power to him.

Looking back on those warnings, while coupled with my current predicament, I’d say ole Uncle Bud gave us little toads the best damned advice anyone could ever give a still blank slate of a munchkin. Don’t fu>k up your back.

Words of wisdom, for sure.

Yes, I called off from work today, as I did yesterday. Thing is, my lower back is fu>ked up again. It’s annoying. It’s debilitating. It’s getting old. I could go to a chiropractor, but that would be akin to handing wads of cash to a drug-addled witch doctor. Been there, done that. And it didn’t work. Not even once. Not even close.

After some innermost reflection on things, I know full well why my back has been being a bad, bad boy for the better part of 2008. After giving it some thought, I know what’s up. I know what the problem is.

It’s me. Basically, I haven’t been me of late. I’ve been getting with the grown-up program, after years and years worth of prodding to do so. I’ve been acting my age. I’ve been going with the slovenly flow of the other adults. See donut, eat that donut. See bagel, add cream cheese and then eat said bagel. A meeting? Oh, goodie. What time is lunch being delivered?

Assuming I can stand up straight, as of tomorrow, I will no longer cavort as the other so-called adults cavort. Donuts? No, I’m good. Bagels? Nope. Too many calories. Lay around in front of the television, while convincing myself that I’m tired because I worked all day long? Nope, no more. As of tomorrow, I’m done with this acting my age business. As of tomorrow, I’m going back to where and what I used to be.

As of tomorrow morning, calories will be avoided as if laden with new-and-improved carcinogens. By tomorrow, my old motto will be resurrected and then some: Work hard, play even harder. Just a few hours from now, I’ll be back to working out, lifting, cycling and generally acting like a halfwit half my age.

Know what? The self-inflicted pain that physical training provides you with nips in the bud the insufferable pain that comes from getting older, flabbier and happily complacent. The pain that accompanies doing what you’re told, the pains that go hand-in-hand with acting your age.

Anyway, come tomorrow morning, I’m getting back to the lean and mean routine. And I’ll soon be right back down to my fighting weight. It’s either that, or the steady consumption of copious amounts of expensive ales.

Let’s rock!

I see that Gort made mention of his and David Yonki’s recent visit with Shadoe Steele. And he published the dates and times the show will be aired. Cool. I’ll be sure to tune in for that.

As I previously made mention of, I was also invited to the Sunday morning meeting of the minds. And as I pointed out, I declined the invite. Basically, I offered up half-truths as for the reasons I didn’t want to be a part of this. I told David it sounded like fun, which it surely did, but that I had to preside over the fantasy football thing. And I did. 6-0, for those of you that are counting.

But the real truth of the matter is that I seek no celebrity. Never did, never will. If I was invited to do this sort of thing back when I wanted a regime change in Wilkes-Barre, I would have beaten both Gort and Dave to the studio. If there was some overriding motivation behind any of this anymore, I would have been there, done that, and then encouraged everyone to check out what I had done.

This all goes back to the question of why, when and how I stated writing on the internet in the first place. Why? Because I was watching my city go down the drain. From an infrastructure standpoint, the financial aspects of it all and the overall downtrodden morale of the town, Wilkes-Barre was fast sinking and surely never to be heard from again. And I did whatever I could to change all of that. And with the very worst of the fire-breathing political dragons now dead and buried, I’m good to go. I’m happy.

I was invited some years ago to sit-in with Sue Henry on her WILK talk show. And I remember asking of her, “What are we going to do? Bitch about Tom McGroarty for an hour?” He was a lame duck mayor. I had already gotten what I wanted all along. And in my mind, there was no need for any further celebrity coming from the troubled likes of me. I declined that invite, too.

Some say I blogged my former mayor right out of elected office. Whether that is true or not is subject to debate. I hope that I did. I hope my efforts single-handedly brought about the regime change that I so desperately wanted. But whether they did or not, I was done at that point. Whether I even realized it at the time or not, my relentless and single-minded internet jihad had come to it’s rightful end. I got what I wanted. Done.

All of which leads me to this anonymously-offered comment from a reader at Gort’s site:

Anonymous said…

Mark was a no- show cuz someone writes his stuff for him.. He cant talk about on the radio that which he knows little to nthing about.

You know, these anonymous fools make it seem as if federal do-goodery has now expanded to the point of compulsory redistribution of stupidity. Oh, please tell us anonymous brain-burnt fool, who writes my stuff for me? My Wife? My kid? The paperboy? The effing cat? Think about it, queer ball. Think before you mistype. At the very least, just try thinking for once. I promise, it won’t hurt.

Whether you wish to acknowledge as much or not, anonymity is what defiles the internet and on a daily basis. Anonymity is what saps from the internet what little credibility it still has. Sorry, dickhead, but subterranean fury belongs exactly where it emanated from, just below the surface. Out of sight, out of mind. No name attached to the words, no serious consideration given them. You see, pussies like yourself don’t really matter.

And your premise? I know little or nothing about blogging and politics? Do you honestly believe that anyone would agree with that malarkey?

Real quick, who practically invented blogging in this area? And who first brought local politics to the internet?

I’m waiting.

You know, it’s really easy to let loose with the explosive hostility from just below the subsurface. But what we both know is that without the cloaking device, you’d be relegated to doing and saying that which you normally do and say: nothing.

Tell me I’m wrong.

And be warned. Stick with the anonymity thing, because I seriously doubt that you’d know how to deal with adrenaline and anger personified. If you were forced to go face-to-face, I’m thinking your voice as well as your hands would get to trembling right quick. And the rest of what would likely ensue would probably be covered by your health insurance provider.

As for myself, well, I’ve had many a bloody knuckle before. No big thing. And despite the fact that we’re all supposed to get in line and be emasculated these days, I openly admit that unchecked anger can be very, very energizing. And really, really fun if you know what to do with it. At least, for me it is.

As for yourself, well, stick to what you do best.

Hide.

Dude, that was awful. And this is the other big, big, big problem with the internet…the clear lack of self control.

You’re wishing cancer on someone? And they say I’m a hapless idiot because I like to play Fight Club every now and again? Jesus. H. Allah!!!

Dude, I do not agree with much of anything that Nancy and Kevin have to say. And, yes, sometimes they annoy me with their unfairness. But still, think before you type.

This lady has a life and a husband and a couple of little kids. She has wants, and hopes and dreams, just like us. And she deserves as least as much as we hope and will for ourselves. And to publicly wish her ill simply because of her political persuasion is probably a form of sickness in and of itself. Time for a pill, an anti psychotic? I really hate to break it to you, but she is as entitled to her opinions as we are to ours.

I ran across her some days ago at the McDonald’s on Route 315, right across the street from her WILK studio. I got the impression that she spotted me, but chose to act as if she hadn’t had. I could be wrong. Anyway, even though we are on diametrically opposite poles politically speaking, if she had stepped forward and acknowledged me I would have been outwardly cordial and friendly. Why? Because she’s a clueless socialist Democrat, not a bloodthirsty demon.

She thinks I’m clueless and I think likewise of her. Where’s the harm in that? What constitutes an egregious foul on her part punishable by whatever it is that you prescribe?

Anonymous attacks and hatefulness. Sadly, that’s exactly what the internet is best known for. And mostly despised for.

Dude, get a freaking grip.

Markie for President.

I was prodded to do this, so let’s give it a shot.

My campaign slogan? I dunno. How about, “I ain’t nearly as fu>ked up as the rest of those ass wipes?”

That ought to do. It might not fit on a bumper sticker, but I hate effing bumper stickers anyway. You pay $25,000 for a vehicle and then you stick ugly sticky stuff all over it? Dork.

Let’s see here. What would I do, what would I mandate given the keys to the nuclear suitcase?

First of all, the 50-year embargo of Cuba comes to an abrupt halt. How do you justify keeping 11 million people mired in abject poverty simply because you’re still pissed at one of those 11 million? Sounds pretty stupid to me. Besides, we need their baseball players and cigars.

Education: Well, since your true education starts after you’re done with the formal educating, I say we disband the teachers unions and force those people to work for what they’re truly worth, i.e., not a hell of a lot. Oh, and I would make it a crime punishable by law when teachers sexually abuse children.

Columbus Day: No more Columbus Day, since only bank employees and government employees actually get to (pretend to) celebrate it. Here’s the scoop: If it’s good for the private sector employees, then it’s good to go for the public sector employees. Now get your fat asses back to work.

Health Care: The way I remember it, Grandma took us to Dr. Harris’ office and when he was done with us, she handed him a twenty dollar bill. Nine or ten sutures, twenty bucks. A shot in the butt, twenty clams. No insurance card. No statements in the mail. No politics. No socialist do-gooding. Just good old-fashioned cash.

Gee, that was hard.

Crime: Do away with the wasted resources and manpower devoted to this out-of-control, ridiculous recycling gibberish, and hire more police officers. Diamond Drops? Fireworks? Band shells? Parades? Nah. Scale that sort of sh*t back and hire more police officers.

Which leads me to arbitrators and utility commission members: Since all that they do is give a rubber stamp go-ahead to the financial raping of taxpayers, I say we banish them all to Somalia until they get offed or wise up. And if Somalia won’t take those vermin, then we ship ‘em off to Noxen. Eff them.

Drugs: Make it all legal, and allow them all to overdose already. I’m really getting sick of this societal anchor. People being robbed, hurt and killed because somebody else needs a fix? Oh, and add a potent synergist to every illicit substance thereby guaranteeing those sought-after overdoses. Look at it as population control. Far less nasty than abortion.

Abortion: If chicks want to commit murder, so be it. Let ‘em have at it since keeping one’s legs closed is no longer in vogue. Besides, after about 20 more years of MTV‘s programming, the next generation of women will all be of the same-sex variety, making abortion a virtual non-issue.

Energy: What’s worse? Annoying a few brainless Caribou, or being broke all of the time? What’s worse? Frightening a few mindless spotted owls, or going to war to ensure the free flow of oil? What’s worse? Polluting a tiny corner of Alaska, a state we are never likely to visit, or paying a whopping 8 dollars for a freaking cantaloupe? You make the call.

Racism/Bigotry: Short of committing a crime or any sort of injustice, why not just admit that we’re all racists and bigots with too many biases to some degree or another? What’s really worse? Telling people who you really are? Or pretending to be something you’re not?

You hate that guy down the block a ways? So what? As long as you don’t touch him or any of his stuff, have at it, racist. He’ll hate you right back. Works for me.

Korea/Europe: Effective immediately, all American military forces will be redeployed from those forward operating theaters right back to the good ole U.S. of A. If South Korea is overrun, nobody will even take notice. And if all of Europe were to be routed, nobody would really care. No more expensive babysitting.

Russia/NATO: Since NATO was originally formed to stem the communist flow out of an expansionist Soviet Union, I fail to understand why a severely weakened and much more vulnerable Russia should be happy and willing to be increasingly surrounded by NATO forces at this point. Look at a map, you’ll see what I’m going on about.

If Russia inserted expressly anti-US forces into Canada, Mexico and the Bahamas, am I supposed to believe the United States government would feel real safe and secure about that? Give them some room and see if they calm down already. And if they don’t calm down, put a hefty tariff on all vodka imports. That’ll teach ‘em.

The Military: Being that veterans of armed conflicts typically admire their enemy combatant’s tenacity and skills, but likewise hate the people that sent them to do battle with them in the first place, I say that whenever Congress authorizes any military foray at all, a minimum of 25% of our Congressmen and women should be embedded with the troops on the front lines.

At least this way, our troops won’t feel so awfully bad about friendly-fire incidents and collateral damage.

Homosexuals: I could really care less what people do with their crotches and their mouths, but please try to remember that some stuff is beyond repugnant for many of us. Don’t be so strident all of the time.

And gay-related hate crimes? No such thing. If somebody beats the snot out of you just for kicks, they should be handcuffed, charged and led off to the hoosegow. But, if they beat the snot out of you right after you reached for things you ought not have been reaching for, then the cops should secure the scene, request a medic for you and then ask you what the heck you were thinking.

Same-sex marriage: Stupid. You stigmatize yourself, and then set off on a never-ending quest to not be stigmatized. Although, whatever floats your boat.

Welfare: Without welfare, the crime rate soars to unforeseen, dizzying heights. We’re done here.

Pesticides/Herbicides: Without these long vilified products, the entire world would have starved to death by now. Smarten up.

Radical Islam: Not a problem. During my State of the Union address, I will announce to the entire world that if the U.S. mainland is attacked again, I will nuke Mecca. No more holy land. Just a glassed-over landfill in waiting. You want a piece of this?

Yeah, that’s what I thought, you fu>ks!

Marcia Brady: Marcia Brady’s fictional birthday should be immediately declared a national holiday. And no rebuttal about Marcia’s birthday will be encouraged or tolerated. Bite your tongues, you Partridge Family freaks!

The Economy: When will we finally realize that the Stock Market is not the economy? When the stocks are doing well, that doesn’t necessarily translate into average Americans doing well. If we want to know how the economy is doing at any given time, all that we have to do is hang out one morning at the downtown barbershop or luncheonette. The bitter/clingers will give us the scoop on the economy, and in no uncertain terms.

That said, I’ve worked for privately-held companies that went public. And as soon as those companies fortunes were based on the prices of their stock, the employees of aforesaid companies lost. Once they went public, the needs of the employees and the needs of the customers paled in comparison to the needs of the unseen investors. For what it’s worth, there it is.

Taxes: Whenever the tax rates are increased, money is immediately divested from the economy. In other more pointed words, the federal government has purposely weakened the economy, and usually in the name of do-gooder, half thought-out nonsense. It’s kind of like playing poker. When you’re running the table, there’s a lot less money out there on the table.

Jobs: Here’s the story. We’re never going to recreate the oodles and oodles of high-paying manufacturing jobs we once had simply because nobody wants to work hard for a living anymore. Sure, we want the big paycheck, just not the hard work. As far as a work ethic goes, most people want to be well-paid just to stand around twiddling their thumbs, bitching about their bosses, bitching about their spouses and waiting on the next prescheduled smoke break.

And what these lazy folks don’t realize is, the ultimate in job security comes to those who are willing and able to take on the most physical of jobs. They can’t outsource paving, digging and lifting. If you’re willing to hump and hump hard, your job is probably secure. And if you’re not willing to hump and hump hard, your job might end up being shifted to Bhopal, India.

Bummer.

Pro Sports: Any American not willing to readily concede that there is nothing so completely exulted on the face of Allah’s formerly great Earth as that prince of all sports franchises--The New York Football Giants--will be relocated to a reeducation camp of my choosing.

Suddenly, Noxen comes to mind again. If the rattlesnakes don’t get you, the inbred kinfolk will. Pack some Vaseline.

And, finally…Democrats: Look, there’s no need to hate these people, even though they normally deal in class envy and cleverly formulated hate. For every action, there’s a reaction. For every right, there’s a wrong. And, in this case, the Democrats are the wrong to our right.

The thing is, Democrats lack and need stuff. They want stuff they can’t or won’t provide for themselves. What they want is an artificial and unearned income boost by way of mob rule. You know, the oft-mentioned “common good,” which easily translates into meaning, take some of his and give it to me.

And for that reason alone, Democrats should be tolerated, but never, ever taken seriously. When it’s all said and done, when it’s all stripped down to it’s barest of components, what Democrats seek is robbery made legal.

Sez me, President Markie.

Make checks payable to: Markie for President.

Later