The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

I heard a study recently that said the poor are more charitable than the rich. On average they give almost twice as much of their income percentage-wise to those in need than their wealthier brethren. They also volunteer more for charities and non profits, service groups and outreach programs. Basically, if my sociology statistical studies are still in semi-working order, this proves, not quite conclusively but damn close, the South End is way more philanthropic than our neighbors up yonder ensconced behind their key carded gated communities.
I had a friend tell me in all seriousness awhile back (in regard to my bemusement over her financial plight at the time) that a million dollars just wasn’t what it used to be. What exactly do you say to a pronouncement like that? Do you work out the math of inflation vs. income? Do you shrug your overburdened shoulders and just agree? Or do you take pity and offer up a loan …. you know, to get her by until that devalued million dollars returns to its rightful place in the economy?
These are tough times. Especially, I guess, for the rich. Or, more aptly, the folks who no longer count themselves among the Gatsbys of Camano. Their stocks have slipped, the value of their two homes has dropped, their retirement funds seem inadequate now, even their hedge fund broker refuses to return their frantic calls — that vast chasm between Us and Them looks like a ditch, not a Grand Canyon. And if sacrifices must be made — and believe me, they must — a little less giving to the needy is definitely the order of the day.
Meanwhile, down here on the Lower Tiers, we kind of see we’re all in this together. So we still donate, we still volunteer and we still give. We don’t have much, but it never seemed too little somehow. Even though a hundred dollars isn’t what it used to be.

I’m sitting in the local barbershop that just opened up in town humming that song ‘Almost Cut My Hair’, but apparently I’m not going to let my freak flag fly even one more day. I got mixed feelings. My hair was down to my shoulders, first time since back in about 1980 when I moved out here and drove school bus for the little felons I transported. Don’t ask me why but I got this wild hair to let it grow, see if it brought back hippie memories.

It didn’t. Just an old geezer growing his hair long in the modern era of ‘50’s crewcuts, some kind of rebel statement, not sure for who. Whom. Whatever. Shampoo bill hitting the ceiling and drying time about two days. Longer hair than the mizzus, probably confusing sexual identities, why not?

The two guyz in front of me look like they get a trim about every two weeks. My last haircut was two years ago. Probably saved me about $400. Or quite a few gallons worth of shampoo. Without possessing any superhuman strength, I still seem to have a Sampson/Delilah complex. But growing my hair long didn’t make me any stronger either. Warmer in winter, about all.

Most of my adult life, a haircut meant I was on my way to some kind of interview. Jobs, art committees, anything where I worried I might lessen my odds looking like a refugee from the 60’s. As I got older and greyer in the beard, I figured the length of my hair was the least of my worries, considering I showed up in jeans, goodwill shirts and a battered cowboy hat so soiled I might have been an Okie lost in the exodus from the Dust Bowl. Artist chic, I liked to tell myself. Right.

The thing about haircuts is that invariably I regret getting them. The upside is that hair tends to grow back, not like an irreversible decision. Another two or three years, I’ll probably be back here in the chair. Maybe for a trim….

I did not have sex with that Ukrainian President! No wait, that was a Democratic President who was lying. This is different, fundamentally, different. We did not talk quid pro quo on that phone conversation. In fact it was a perfect phone conversation, perfect. So perfect we locked it up in the super secret Cone of Silence at the Deep State Data Bank Vault, but we have a transcript, not quite as perfect, mind you, but pretty perfect. You can judge for yourself that I’m innocent.

Well, okay, I did ask the comedian president, Zelenskiy, or Zorro or whatever his goofy name is, for some help cleaning up corruption in that shithole country he’s running. Sent Rudy right over there, see what’s what, get it cleared up before things get worse and they elect a clown for president. They got the goods on Biden and his kid. We just need to get them to dig a little, find something we can use before the 2020’s. You believe that guy, Sleepy Joe, using his name to get his kid a 50K a month gig on their oil board? Corruption! They both ought to be in jail. High crimes and treason.

So what if Little Adam Schitt has a whistle blower, fake news, third hand rumors, who cares? There was no quid pro quo, I only asked Zorro to look into Biden’s boy, big deal. What, another whistle blower? First hand information? There’s treason, you ask me … the guy ought to be outed and shot. Along with Shifty Schitt. So yeah, maybe I did put the chill on those weapons we promised Zorro to fight the Russians. Who, by the way, aren’t bad people if Putin was being honest with me and I think I know honesty when I hear it and I hear it louder than anyone ever has now or before. I hear it like a bell beat by a gong, a huge gong. It sounds great.

So I asked for a favor if he wanted those weapons. I admit it, big deal, who cares? That’s how we do business. Maybe you read my book, The Art of the Deal? I still have some copies you can buy. I’m the deal guy, the best, nobody like me since Kubla Khan, and I could take him with one hand behind my back. If I could reach that far ….

Trading influence for political gain? I don’t think so. Read the transcript. Perfect phone conversation, I won’t say too many times again. No, the real one is locked up. You’d just cherry pick it, twist it around, make me look like a crook. I’m not a crook, I’m a businessman, that’s why you morons elected me, time for a change. I just want to weed out corruption, nepotism, drain the swamp, make America Great Again. Go look at what Biden did, it’s a crime, a real felony, why pick on me? China, you listening? I’d take any help I can get. Give me a call. Rudy’s got a jet ready to roll.

Impeach me?? Who you kidding? Rick Perry is who you want. Made me call that Zorro guy. Now the coward has quit. Looks guilty as hell, quitting like that. Talk to him, I don’t know anything about it.