In the days of yore, before fake billionaires as politicians, before a global pandemic killed millions, when I was still a sexagenarian and the pretty young wife had a high-paying job – I am talking almost seven years ago now – we didn’t know how good we had it.
from December 2, 2015. A true story from happier times.
Barker heard a noise, which proved he wasn’t yet completely deaf. Big dog scratching his ass three feet away.
He liked to sit in his big brown leather recliner with a big imported beer nearby watching the big game on his big television. Reading the big Sunday paper while his little wife took a nap on their king-sized bed. Felt like, well, felt like he’d made it, like he was living large. And that’s the key, he always told himself, the feeling.
Reading the paper made his heart ache and his head hurt. Found himself wondering, oh, crap, what next?
We live in a world where the price of sports equipment continues to go up while the price of guns continues to come down.
Oh, but guns are sporting equipment, you tell me. Tell that to the three hundred dead black bears in Florida. Tell that to the prayerful folks in Charleston.
Tell that to the old ladies afraid to go to the movie theater.
Speaking of old ladies…
***
Out of the corner of his eye, Barker caught a glimpse of a half-naked combed-over neighbor he didn’t like – one of many – walking right through the middle of his yard. That was enough. There are certain things in life that really boiled his beets and the mere sight of that bastard was one of them. Deep breath. A speedo and flip-flops, for christsakes. Suppose I had a heart condition. Some shit does not get unseen. Another deep breath. But he shook it off and took another swig of Foster’s.
Where were we… Actual headline: SNITCH RUINS GAMING NIGHT. Sub-title: Police look into small-stakes gambling at a retirement community near Orlando. The article takes up the entire top half of the page except for the story about Man Shot In Tampa Bar. Which reminded him of the bill introduced to allow open carry in Florida liquor joints.
Notice those masked men walking around that Texas mosque haven’t offered to fight ISIS. They should raise travel money like the kids in the band outside the grocery trying to get to the Macy’s parade.
***
And then the dogs go crazy!!!!! That half-naked bastard is standing at Barker’s lanai door next to his hot tub and the guy actually asks, “Would you like to buy some of my art?” And he holds up two foot path thingys he must have stole from the lady down the street who flunked out of her remedial ceramics class.
“Fuck, no. And, hell, fuck no!! Get your skinny ass off my property and don’t come back. Go!” Barker fairly roared. “And put on some fuckin’ clothes!!”
He hoped that didn’t sound too harsh. But this sorry buttwipe had messed with the feeling.
Barker switched beers, an empty for a full, and looked at his dog. Dog was big and arthritic and didn’t liked being made to move when he was happy where he was. Knew the feeling.
***
Where,…? Oh, the old ladies… there’s a photo of three alleged miscreants. Average age about eighty-eight. Can’t help noticing none of them have grey hair. And they gamble. What is this world coming to? I mean, we’re talking mahjong and five dollar bingo and penny-ante poker and horse-racing, which involves a dice roll to see how fast your pony races. One of these alleged perpetrators is a Holocaust survivor.
“My neurologist, Dr. Oppenheim, said it’s very good for the brain,” explained a ninety-year-old brunette.
These are obviously some serious stand-up broads.
And who’s the biddy bitch who dropped a dime?
Barker had warned more than one kid, trust me, you don’t want to live in the same building as these people. Especially when these people run the place. Barker spoke with not a little experience. Knew what that felt like.
Lien, my ass.
Another actual headline: Condo wants pet DNA to track down poopers. What, you can’t afford security cameras?
This shit pisses me off.
Some Harbor Landing residents said they feel fecal analysis is an invasion of privacy. You think?
Barker puzzled about animal rights. Animal is not really involved, when you think about it. Dog took a crap. And now his owner and the condo association are fighting over his waste. And the newspaper is reporting “the process is actually common among similar groups and, once enacted, often leads to a feces-free environment.” And now he wondered how he felt about it all.
First thought: would you rather pick up dog shit or deal with attorneys?
These geezers are watching too many re-runs of Law & Order SVU. And we are never going to have a feces-free environment when too many of us refuse to take responsibility for our own shit.
Barker recalled when he worked in the produce department at The Island Publix in Venice. Walking with the store manager, boss says, “watch this.” Which Barker did. Some manner of trash was in the middle of the aisle and a high school kid, working part-time, strolls by. Ignores the trash, which was likely visible from outdoors. Maybe outer space.
“Dewey! You missed something, didn’t you?” The kid got a look on his face like who me? Not me. Couldn’t be me. That I-was-home-alone-with-my-mother,- she’ll-vouch-for-me look.
Manager’s name was Jim Caldwell. Self-described ‘dumb as a box of rocks.’ Retired a millionaire. Last Barker heard, Jim was a ship’s captain, moving yachts hither and yonder. A tan and a smile.
This is what Jim Caldwell told Dewey: IF YOU SEE IT, PICK IT UP.
Barker never forgot that, if you see it, pick it up. You don’t have to be Stephen Einstein or that Albert Hawking guy to suspect a plank of practical wisdom in – if you see it, pick it up.
And especially if, for God’s sake, it’s your own shit. Apply the parable and improve the world. Especially your own.
If he looked hard enough – think broad, forgiving mind – Barker could usually find something which made him feel better about subscribing to the paper. Or maybe just happy you are not in the news yourself. Like this profile of an erstwhile cocaine addict who is interviewing Presidents in his garage.
“You people can do anything if you concentrate and you focus your creative abilities, there is no limit to what you can achieve in life,” Marc Maron would have us believe. “The only thing that can stop you is you. You know that voice inside of you that says, ‘I can’t do it.’ Don’t let that little fucker win.”
Just a feeling; there is a limit. Pretty much a fact. Like another fact is you won’t find it until you die.
***
Barker heard noises from the back of the cabin. First the puppy. Then Cassie Topaz Malone came out of the bedroom, down the hall, looking well slept and tossiled toasty.
He smiled. She smiled back. Then she said, “Let’s watch some Walking Dead.“
That’s big.
And I’ll you why, he thought. It’s because Rick and Carol and Darryl and Michonne and Morgan and Glenn and Carl and Maggie clean up for themselves.
That’s what heroes do. A hero picks up shit.
That’s just how he felt.
