Aisle Of Wit

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I Got Nothing TODAY

Most mornings, I usually am inspired by something in the news, whether it’s in pop culture, media or the world at large, to offer my views, insights and experiences in a manner unique to my journey and, hopefully, matter to any of you who choose to invest even a few seconds while you’re sipping coffee, working out or in between butt wipes.  I don’t judge.

But an awful lot of people, including those who I somehow foolishly thought I could have relied upon when chips were down, do.

I’ve had some particularly challenging moments of late.  Undoubtedly, plenty of others have, too.  Tens of thousands of people have lost their jobs in the last few weeks alone.  I personally have known dozens.  At least 20 that I can actually jot down on a list have lost loved ones.  (None, incidentally, due to COVID, for the benefit of those of you who cling to the myth that a piece of paper is smart enough to determine when it’s safe for you to stand next to someone you’re related to or realize you’re actively eating or drinking to decide not to infect you or anyone else.  That’s an intelligence even superior to Jerry Seinfeld’s “Magic Loogie” (Google it if you must).

The past 24 hours and counting have been my most personally challenging yet.  I had a minor car accident, nothing serious, but enough to warrant some needed work before I can get back on the road.  To earn my LIVING.

I apparently committed a cardinal enough sin in the minds of people one might consider loved ones to ask for a LOAN.

The only reply besides silence I got was “I determine when and how I help you.  There is no conversation otherwise”.   Suffice to say, no loan here.

So when I say got nothing, I mean it more than I have before,  Indeed, in some ways, I awaken with LESS than NOTHING.

Well, not quite.  I do have some of you who are friends, and some of you who actually have helped a bit.  It’s not quite yet enough to be impactful, but it’s a start.  I am indeed exceptionally grateful, even though I strongly suspect thoie that claim to know me better would try and shake you as they have me and scream at you to come to your senses, as if I were spouting Nick Fuentes-like rants.

Because I’m honest enough to speak my truth.

I know what I am capable of in terms of media insights and expertise.  I know what I am capable of in terms of compassion.  My actions and experiences of past decades is more than exemplary.  And I’ll put my future potential up against anyone–of any age, gender, ethnicity or social caste–who will argue that they can do better than me.  Perhaps you might have more longevity, at least on paper.  Perhaps you might fill a few more tick marks on the checklists of feckless, dispassionate HR lackeys or bots who think anyone over a certain age is thoroughly worthless.  You MIGHT be as good, but, TRUST ME, in the big picture, you are NOT BETTER.

And yet, those of you who can actually buy a cup of coffee this morning are in a better place than I am.

These would be people who would contend I’m self-sabotaging.  To admit being this low is scaring away even the most optimistic of people who could be in a position to help.

Where ARE these people?  Do you KNOW them?  Funny how some folks who were once in my life do know such people, and they’ve BEEN hired.  Loved.  Appreciated.  Respected.

Not me.  At least, not as of this writing.

I could throw in an eye-catching graphic, or an additional note, in the hope of maximizing click-throughs and impact.  Yep, I even know enough about the tricks of social media of how to goose that number, just as I know the tricks of effective marketing and target placement with good old-fashioned ad spends.  I’ve helped to design some of the most successful launches and campaigns in several networks’ histories.   But according to many such people, admitting I’ve fallen this far is all but destroying any belief that I can do it again.

I assure, I CAN, if I were given the chance.

But the people I would have expected to be most in my corner seem to doubt that more than ever.

What I DO have is a massive bout of migraine pain and nausea that I am sure is somehow psychosomatically related to what has transpired in the last 24 hours.

So, forgive me, I don’t even have the strength to add graphics, hashtags, or much else to this particular installment to improve your experience or mine.

This is all I’ve got in me today.  A few words of honest expression of pain, loneliness, grief, heartbreak, frustration and despair.  Tinged with just enough hope from the handful of surprises who sustain me at all.  Given the level of hurt and the reality check that so many I might have expected more from inflicted on me, I’m probably gonna need those of you who fit such a definition more than ever in the coming decades.  Despite the feverish belief that, more than ever, I am of the opinion that they’d prefer that one of them use their gun and simply end my pain so they wouldn’t have to face even the shred of possibility of judgment for their absolute smug silence and the capacity to so coldly dismiss the simplest request for some TEMPORARY HELP.

I wouldn’t have written this if I believed I won’t somehow make it.  When there’s a day with no entry, then and only then should you sound the alarm and reach out to anyone you might know in my world who qualifies as a candidate for who could have said something so jarring, so cruelly devoid of any compassion whatsoever, that it sent me into a darkness deep enough to actually make me physically sick.

This is not that day.  Yet.  But it’s a LOT closer than many have been.

Because I got nothing today.  Literally nothing.   At leaast, right now.

I’m praying as hard as I’ve ever prayed that changes quickly.