chuck_lorre Doar from the film credits, a list: #318 She didn't like his pillows, his carbon footprint, his air-conditioning, his water temperature, his light bulbs, his food, his car, his recycling efforts, his sexual appetite, his house, his housekeeper, his inability to enjoy hiking, his child, his attitude toward her friends, his attitude toward the religion she didn't practice, his attitude toward other people's children, his attitude, his birth control, his gender, his facial hair, and his mindless use of hand soap to wash his face. So naturally, he was madly in love with her. His friends and family began a betting pool as to how long the relationship would last. The smart money was around six months, but one wager, placed by his mother, put the 'over and under' at twenty years. When asked why she saw the relationship lasting, she said, "When he was a little boy, I didn't like his neediness, his lying, his whining, his unwillingness to go to sleep, his dirty fingernails, his farting to amuse himself, his finger constantly jammed up his nose, his poor grades, his filthy room, his idiot friends, his missing the toilet, his fascination with his penis, importantly, his similarity to his father." #317 I keep reading that my vanity cards are rants. This troubles me. To my understanding, a rant is an explosive diatribe, a poorly articulated spewing of raw emotion. To successfully write a rant one would need to use a lot of foul language and a small army of exclamation points. Any casual reading of my cards would, I believe, suggest quite the opposite. I have always steered clear from hyperbolic venting, preferring to make my case in subtle, understated ways. In fact, if any one word were to be used to describe my weekly missives, I think it would be "stealthy." Or perhaps "subversive." If I were to use two words, I might go with "winkingly clever." But "rant"? I hardly think so. Even the regrettable card from several years ago in which I suggested that many TV critics would gladly eat a hole through their loved ones in order to tunnel toward a real job in show business, was more a humorous observation than an outpouring of vitriol. And my frequent aggravation toward CBS censorship? Please. That's just a little game we play. Funny jokes are killed off by corporate executives in dead-end jobs and lawyers who are unwilling or unable to actually practice the law, while I make a show of complaining. Theater of the Absurd perhaps, but not a rant. To experience the real thing I would suggest watching video of major league baseball managers disputing calls by umpires, or Fox News. Now those are rants. In the meantime, I will continue to calmly offer my opinion regarding the world as I see it, right here after Two and a Half Men, The Big Bang Theory and Mike&Molly. If, for some reason, my detractors find that unacceptable, I will not stoop to using ugly words and exclamation points. Winkingly clever requires inference. #316 I believe that there are two forces struggling to dominate this country. Reinvention and nostalgia. The first seeks to imagine and work toward a better future by changing the status quo. The second insists that things were better in the past and works to undo change. Oddly, the opposing forces have come to be represented by colors. Blue and red. It's no secret where my sympathies lie. I've always been a big fan of reinvention. My life is a testament to it. There is simply no way that a scared, sickly, vaguely educated kid from Long Island gets to live the life he's living now without being willing to scrap old, unworkable ideas and start over (Of course it helped that I didn't have a rosy past to feel nostalgic towards). Which brings me to the point of this vanity card. I'm confused by people who seek to return to a life that wasn't that great to begin with. Oh, I get it if you used to be the ruling class. If your childhood memories include watching your granddaddy sip a mimosa on the veranda while being serviced by the upstairs maid, then sure, nostalgia makes sense. But, if you're like me and didn't know anyone who had a veranda, let alone a maid, let alone an upstairs, then why not consider reinvention? Maybe we can make this country a better place to live. It's certainly a more exciting way to go. You know, an uncertain future, filled with mystery and adventure. Of course, if nostalgia wins the day, if we are to attempt to reverse the course of history, then I will do my best to cooperate -- starting with bangin' me some household help.* #315 To Do List Re-calibrate the line behind fiction and reality Meditate using new mantra, "high ratings do not equate to high self-esteem" Go to Al-Anon meeting Stand in front of a mirror and practice saying "no comment" Stand in front of a mirror and practice saying "as far as I know everything's terrific" Write a country song entitled, "Hooker in the Closet." (Chorus: "There's a hooker in the closet, 'neath the monogrammed robes, don't know how she got there and I can't find my clothes. Officer Krupke, how are you tonight? I've misplaced my watch but I'm feeling alright.") Donate royalties to womens' shelter Quit the business and teach creative writing at Cal State Bakersfield. Fresno? Bite the hand that feeds you because you've had more than enough to eat Hire a publicist to put a positive spin on this vanity card. #314 Mornings are the worst. The mind seems undefended, easy prey for both memories and imagination. What happened. What should've happened. What might happen someday. Your fault, my fault, no one's fault. The only way to relieve the torment is to get up, empty the bladder, drink the coffee, read the paper, run the treadmill, perform the animal sacrifice, paint the chicken blood on the groin and call upon the demonic spirits to bring you back. Nights are bad too. Once again, exhaustion makes the mind vulnerable to obsessing over woulda, shoulda, coulda. The only thing to do is sit alone and eat the chicken which was senselessly murdered in the morning. to be continued 101211 what's it to you? who go blather from