Fighting the Good Fight

Alrighty then, here it is, number 500 on the way to...well, 501 seems a realistic goal. I wouldn't want to commit beyond that though. I mean 502 sounds like a lot of work.

I'm bringing to today's blog a heavy chest cold that is hanging on as stubborn as dryer lint. Every morning since Wednesday I've swung my feet on to the floor while shoving dogs off the bed who have jumped up there to tell me how happy they are to see me, paused a moment to take stock, and then declared myself still sick. To use a word born of drug lore but co-opted by the mainstream to mean the opposite of gooder...BUMMER! Not to worry though, I have used this down time to Zendoc the illness by removing myself from it so as to hold it up and examine it closely. We Buddhist/Taoist wannabes do this sort of thing on a regular basis because we have been told that by doing so we separate ourselves from the object and are then able to "let it go." Right. There I was looking at this chest cold from just short of arm's length. It's a sticky thing about the size of a ping pong ball, black and gooey. I tried reasoning with it for awhile, but getting nowhere, I lost my cool and my inner righteous bully fighter came to the fore. My third eye watched as it slapped the chest cold silly, but to no avail. It wouldn't cry "Uncle. The cold wanted back in my lungs and my psychic jabs could no longer hold it off. Looking for any face saving out, I then offered a deal and the cold accepted. It would leave when it felt like it, but it would leave. I have no choice but to trust it.

And speaking of fights, more needs to be said about the Klitschko brothers who hold three of the four heavyweight title belts, because I know that all the readers of this blog are huge fight fans, especially my daughters. (Hahahahahaha.) These two Ukrainians, raised in Germany, are a disgrace to the sport. They both hold doctorate degrees and they speak four languages. What kind of an example are they setting for our children? Where are the ear biting, "I will eat your babies", Mike Tysons of the world when we need them. Who are we going to point to while talking to our children and saying, "don't be like that?" Ah well, there's always the Yankees.