Idea: How About We STF Up?

There are not many people I converse with comfortably.

Most want to talk about the past. Glory days. When they were an astronaut or got screwed in a real estate deal or made a lot of money because they were so shrewd.

I don’t care about the past,

Even my own.

I used to talk politics and government until I concluded that we are irreversibly doomed. Which makes any discussion pointless.

And stuff? Same problem. The jig’s up. More are learning the hard way that more and enough are different. We are pigs with the world’s resources are running low. The poor are petrified and the rich are ready to haggle over the ruins.

The End.

I also find it less than satisfying to talk about a future that most likely will never become the present. Wishful thinking.

Which leaves the present.

Here.

Now.

“You like your food?”

“Want another drink?”

“Are you still fucking Cindy?”

Not “Did you fuck Cindy last month or do you intend to fuck Cindy next week, but ARE you fucking Cindy now?”

And other than eating and drinking and fucking, what else is there to talk about, exactly?

(Note: If you respond “golf,” I will shove a 1-iron up your ass.)

A couple or three or four drinks will make me more chatty, past, present, and future, but not more interesting, and more importantly, not more relevant.

Which is why I talk to my dogs. A lot.

My dogs are always present.

“Do you want a treat?” (Now, not yesterday or tomorrow).

And their undivided interest in the present relieves me of the burden and shame of drinking alone.

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