To battle or not to battle? To fight or not to fight? “What the hell am I talking about?”
Two battle hymns in the same sentence. I must be getting a case of Writer’s Block or something? It’s becoming a case of mystified stymie, as I can’t seem to want to write what I want to write about? At least this was a few days ago when I started to pen this piece together. “Perhaps, it’s just something temporary for the time being?”
Perhaps, I’m just tired and burned out of “twitching the writer’s breath?” Phooey, that could be something contagious nor could it just be something mocking with my half-century old mind and the culinary liking of fine dining? Hey, I’m not one of those rich half-ass idiots that have a Yacht sitting at a pier or at some stateside dock with my name on it, nor am I some Real Estate tycoon who has one of those “gold” plated palaces around the world that would suit that half fared ass Orange Julius in the White House we deal with every day on the television tuber, “no, not YouTube, you idiot!'”
Personally it suits me just fine right down the middle of the Hudson River in New York – “if Captain Scully can make a plane float on the Hudson River, its likely to make the late Howard Hughes smile generously,” while in his stylish 1940’s era suit with the fanfare of his flaming darling, the beloved – “Spruce Goose.” Hmm, makes some sense I guess? “What you folks think?” – “give or take,” I say graciously with a slight grin of insanity.
I’ll probably bet the diamonds on Rio, that no one in this day and generation ever learned this history of the 1940s and the late Howard Hughes?
It looks like I’m actually getting somewhere here with this masterpiece we call a “blog post” – hmm, I’ve likely broken through the catastrophe of getting past the line of battle as I continue to fight my way through the rugged battlefields of writer’s block. I’m still locked and loaded and with plenty of firepowers to choose from to quell the beast to an evil standstill with nothing to surrender to the troops of writer’s block into defeat. “Volia – what a bonafide plan Skipper, just how the hell do you plan to implement for that little ole bastard anyway?” – sarcastically in Gilligan’s Island tone of the Skipper himself, “I can tell you, but then I’d have to kill you and point blank, sorry probie!”. Gotta give you the “Gibbs” slap.
McGee would’ve agreed, I’m sure of giving ole Gilligan’s the ole 21st Century Gibb’s slap.
“Progress seems to have made its way to victory? Only time will tell!” At least we can say those heartfelt good-byes to the “Winter Blues” and yes, we can now say hello to “Spring!” Hooha, now that’s what I’m talking about, bring on the warmth, bring on the picnics, bring on the good ole boy fishing days on the lakes and rivers where the best fish is yet to be seen!
“It’s going to be epic for sure!”