Good morning Boys and Girls.

Checked the official surrogate “mood gage”, this morning and there it was, plain as day on the dial, just as I feared.

It’s a simple set-up I fabricated from an old water meter a few years ago. It’s powered by a connection from a nine-volt battery, through a mood ring I bought at a flea market for this very purpose, then to the mechanism from an old Uncle Fester light bulb from Spencer’s Gifts I got in High School. Now, however, rather than lighting up when I stick it in my ear, this doo-hickey acts as the primary receptor for my feelings, which are then transferred and displayed by the needle on the water meter’s face by means of a hair from my own head - taken back when I had hair - that winds and unwinds based on all the information provided from the ring, the light bulb and the vibrations and biorhythms from my all-too Fester-like body.

The middle of the dial’s face reads “happy”. It’s a good sized chunk of the 360 degree face of the meter; maybe a whole 90 degrees. It’s funny to see my handwriting there, shaky and cramped - I was trying to fit the words I had to write into very small spaces, and I remember being worried I’d misspell something and have to start over.

To the left of “happy”, in their own pie pieces that grow smaller and smaller toward the bottom, are the words, sad, angry, frustrated, and at the very bottom of the left side, is the word “enraged”; a tiny sliver where the needle seldom points. In fact, it seems to me I’ve only seen the needle in that section a couple of times over the years. Once was the day the Supreme Court decided to make that horrible “one time” ruling that stuck us with George Bush for eight years, the results of which we’re still dealing with and will continue to deal with for the next decade or more. Then there was that time I found out my favorite Chinese Restaurant was closing simply because the lazy-assed owners thought they had the right to retire after thirty-five years of running the place seven days a week. That was a baaaaaaad day, let me tell ya.

To the right of “happy” on the dial, in the same format as the left side, are the words, “open-minded, contemplative, skeptical, crestfallen”, and finally, in a tiny wedge the same size as “enraged”, on the left side, are the words, “deeply disappointed”. The needle zipped around to that spot so quickly this morning, I almost reset the thing to see if it was broken. Maybe the battery was dead, I thought, or the mood ring had lost it’s juice; or maybe I had too much wax in my ear for the connection between my brain and the gizmo to engage properly. But no. I knew the reading was correct. Hell, I’d have been utterly shocked if it hadn’t done exactly what it did.

See, I don’t have a lot of heroes. Never have. Just the way I am, I guess; perhaps because nothing is more disappointing than finding out someone isn’t who you think they are. It can be such a big letdown; who needs it? But once in a while someone comes along who seems so solid and hardworking and who gets such spectacular results in their chosen field, that, in your mind (or at least in mine), they end up getting elevated to hero status anyway.

-Foolish. You almost always end up shaking your head, feeling betrayed and gullible, and alas, I find I’ve been shaking my head an awful lot the last few days.

Damn…

Tiger, Tiger, Tiger.


Be good to everyone.