Gimme Gimme Gimme

FYI, this post is only tangentially about Knox (that’s the puppy sitting on top of Oscar).

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “give/given/giving.” Begin your post with one of those words. Bonus points if you end your post with one as well. Enjoy!

Give me, give me, gimmegimmegimme, was the first thing that popped into my head. Quickly followed by the song, Gimme Some Lovin’ from G. Love and then immediately followed by a band I was made aware of by Chris Walker years ago, Me First and the Gimme Gimmes. They’re a punk/cover band and they cover A LOT of songs, some of them are pretty damn good versions.

Like this cover of Sweet Caroline.
And is there anyone that doesn’t like that song? I hate Neil Diamond. Well, his music, don’t have much of an opinion about him one way or the other other than that I think it’s cool he used to play piano for Bette Midler. Cool pairing I’ve always thought.

When I think of giving, I’m not feeling pessimistic today but the news is on. The con is in the process of giving away 7 decades of American leadership in the world because he doesn’t understand what makes America great. He’s also a caricature of what a poor man thinks a rich man should be. He’s also not much of a man – any man willing to use his power to leer at young girls in their dressing rooms is still a child. I wish to God we could give him back.

Back where?

Back to the reality TV world that spawned this ignorant fucktard and foisted him on all of us in all of his bloviating glory.

The world and the country have been through worse, but not by much – I fear – if this gets to four years.

That’s enough of that for now.

I don’t think today’s generation is any more looking for a gimme gimme with their hands out than any generation before. Old people sure as hell whine a lot about younger people. Here’s a reality check — the world that folks 30 and 40 years younger than you are having issue with is the one you created. Just shut up about “youth today” and mind your own business, you cranky old gits. You give me a headache. Especially about sex. I’ve read books and listened to music from all eras — every generation since the very first one has been pretty much obsessed with getting into the pants of the opposite sex. The fact that this generation wants to do the same doesn’t make them sex-starved perverts.

The cat’s meowing because he locked himself in the garage a while ago. OK, Macleod doesn’t have thumbs. I shut the door on him. I warned him I would, but, not understanding English (or not caring, because he knew what I was saying – little bastard). Knox and Jackson did, however, manage to lock themselves in our bathroom yesterday. Both were just sitting there, staring at the door, knowing that at some point someone was going to come looking for them.

Gimme a potty-trained and housebroken puppy! Serenity NOW! Knox is way ahead of Oscar at the potty training game, but, man I can’t wait until we’re done.

And that has now thoroughly interupted my flow, giving me nothing in my head to write, so . . .

I give.