A Rose Called Charley

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The David Letterman style of humor reminds me of Johnny Carson and Jack Benny. I thought they were the cat's meow. Sometime I only tune in for the opening dialog at the beginning of the show. There are a lotta reruns now. Obviously there's no blame in that. Dave is older and as rich as Midas and it would be silly to think he's not going to take a lotta vacations to enjoy his success. I'm a big fan, but I click around a lot about that time of night now.

Since the only television shows I receive at all with my middling, weather-dependent, over-the-air outside antenna reception, I don't have a large selection of programs to choose from if I wanna escape the reruns. Under ten. Even then, there is significant repetition of the same networks, and lots and lots of reruns.

Sometime I watch the Charlie Rose show if its interesting enough at the moment I tune in. I'm not too crazy over his interviews with politicians. He is, and has said so frequently, but I'm not. It doesn't intrigue me to watch and see if he can find the chink in their armor. It's not a spectator sport I get into.

In my opinion, Charlie Rose does a great job of interviewing writers and authors of all kinds. He's not too hot in my warped outlook with actors and directors and producers. When there are two or three people around his table I usually move on. There ain't no mystery why they're there. Its to promote their latest work. Charley seems to act like he's capitulated to their being there solely for the money. Subtlety don't appear to be Charlie's strong suite.

His guest tonight was a newspaper columnist and noted TV pundit that shows up on a lot of the Sunday morning news programs on various channels. He usually represents the conservative point of view. He appears on the PBS nightly news show on Friday with a liberal pundit for balance, and they kid around knowingly with the program's host.

They like to act like they're being genteel sophisticated, I keep getting the feeling they would rather be duking it out than smiling for the camera and uttering the independent . I don't believe that part of it, but they do balance the conservative/liberal outlook with the host's humorous interventions.

It wasn't the guest pundit that said something wise that caught my attention. As a matter of fact I had gone downstairs to get something from the kitchen, and heard Charlie Rose make this remark to summarize what his guest pundit stated. He said, as a recap of his guest's point of view:

"If I can frame the question I can determine the answer."

It's just my measly-assed opinion, but I think one or the other of the many variations upon this theme is some kind of universal law. It's the main principle of most vegetable oracles, and that might include mineral oracles like the one at Delphi too.

It's the heart and soul of my irreverent statement that just about any warm body will automagically become (be-co-me) an oracle to answer the question I've deliberately framed to conjure that specific result, and they do it with shock at first, but eventually there eyes become filled with wonderment and with great joy.

It seems to amaze people in general that they can reach for a source of very profound propensities in order to answer a question they don't think they could normally answer at all. My favorite name for that source is "the cornucopia".

Sometime I associate it with cosmic consciousness or the Akashic Records, and I can't really miss using any or all of that sources nay-me-s. It seems rude to explain myself when I assisting these warm bodies (meaning anybody can do it) to let go of who-they-think-they-are in order to access something they're terribly familiar with on a tremulous, fleeting basis.

A well-formed question can break through their defenses like cracking an egg on a rock. With a little luck and a lotta hutzpah they've done it before they can stop what they didn't know they could do. What is simple is easy.

That's about the best and only-est trick I really know how to do. People get pissed at me because I don't take advantage of the gratitude. They want me to do it. They're dying to be used by a shyster. What an adventure... eh?

I've played around the edges with using my rough-hewn, self-made, clumsily honed talent for manipulating the way some people view the world. I ain't a natural at it. I don't have the killer instinct to go for the throat, and in general, I am is not ambitious.

At one time I sorta thought I was or could be ambitious, but acting it out with some depth of sincerity gets in the way of me approaching life in the manner that make MY hair stand on end, and selfishly, I'm fairly apathetic about their need to be used callously.

To look at it from my point of view I have faith and act like betting on my one-trick pony is the very best, most useful act I can inflict upon the other. How can introducing to their own talent for grokking the source not provide them with the individuation they don't have a clue will truly satisfy them.

All seekers are looking for themselves. Most don't appear or seem to know that's what they're looking for. They state tersely they do, but if they did they wouldn't be looking, and they're looking. It might be a little safer if they wore the armor of the Knights Of The Round Table (Zodiac).

Searching for an identity that satisfies you can be a perilous task. Sometimes the threat can be from your own family. From your parents or your siblings or extended family. If you get murdered in America, it's probably gonna be family or a close friend that's gonna do you in. Don't you just hate that?

Disgustingly enough, there is a map for that. It's popularly called The Six O'clock News. It's a TV show that comes on right after the soap operas, and it's jazzed with pathos to engage compassion on the face of it, but it solicits the same murderous rage displayed in the great coliseums from ti-me immemorial.

A certain class of people are as addicted to the blood and guts fireworks of murder and mayhem of the nightly six o'clock. They are BIG fans. They're the same NASCAR fans who could care less who wins and loses as long as they're present and got bragging rights on personally witnessing somebody get fried in a fiery, long drawn out wreck of all wrecks.

All professional sports are predicated on humanity's love of a good killing either man or beast. Standup comedians make their living scaring the bejesus outta people with insights to the pathetic dilemmas and stress of how death is always unexpected.

Third-world countries seem to love animal fights that are illegal in the United States. Dog fights. Cock fights. Bear fights. Its gotta be "to the death" or what's the point? People love a good, ugly killing. The legality of it seems to be a mere technicality. It's said that the common society of man won't obey a law they find distasteful. Living in a country that has the highest percentage of their citizens doing hard time seems proof of that pudding.
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