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Sometimes I Orate, Dissertate And Exacerbate

Oddly Enough, Just The Reverse Is True

By P. B. FriedmanPublished 2 years ago 4 min read
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Sometimes I Orate, Dissertate And Exacerbate
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

Blood Clots ( my satire of J. Rome's radio show term describing listeners as Clones ) Frankie ( Martinelli? ) temporarily or permanently deleted/trashed roughly seven/eight hundred words of ours along with the other garbage. Talk about a relief society function as we used to say at church.

Anyway I was going to bore myself by choosing an image et al but instead must improvise a way to entertain myself. I find it implausible to make anything much out of Mr. Ben Simmons' situation for some reason. The guy is a wealthy enigmatic non shooter on a team that is destined to not quite win championships as best as I can tell.

Perhaps Ben is simply unique, similar to Pistol Pete and Shaq who preceded him at LSU. Overall they say he is just as physically capable as the aforementioned and conventional wisdom is that with the ideal supporting cast he easily would be an NBA Champ. It seems to me he is appropriately stuck in Philadelphia being as how most analysts of pro basketball agree that he has a diagnosis; he is close to becoming our very own combination of Charlie Brown and/or Howard Cosell.

Mr. Simmons happens to be afflicted with the equivalent of the Achilles Heel, meaning--Hell--not everyone can technically be simultaneously the winner. For all we really know things may be scripted; this would come as no surprise.

So, is Jalen Hurts another version of MVP Lamar Jackson or what? Like many guys he may need to relocate to reach his potential. One positive he has going for him would be his Crimson Tide pedigree; it remains to be seen though as to whether or not he will be inevitably compare with Walter Lewis more so than anybody else. Personally I really only have a rooting interest in the guy doing something for the Angels of Philadelphia ( well they could be renamed based upon their relative mellowed out ineptitude ) . I know I should resist referring to them as the Beagles, Bangles or Bongos. Yet is it not every native of the city of Brotherly Love's inalienable wrong to deride our sports franchises, Philly being a W. C. Fields punchline?

A many years deceased woman told me that I had analyzed everyone but myself. My excuse would have been indefensible as usual. Sort of like complaining about the fact that some partially negative material about the East Coast descended into oblivion would seem a futile exercise there is no use to coming up with some lame BS.

I had ( pardon the Southern dialect ) rather describe how me and my fictionally idealized fantasy college sweetie are skilled orators of a sexual nature. I mean I feel compelled to distract myself from terminable boredom, so that is what I am doing.

Really I wish wistfully I was sitting with a neighbor, listening to her after she has turned off the television. Actually it depends upon the neighbor.

Being as how I had watched a former employer on YouTube, mysteriously Elias Otha Bates was offered as an option. What I gleaned from viewing the late Mr. Bo Diddley was minimal; he was evidently ambidextrous. This made about as much sense as Karen Carpenter's being possessed of this trait as the two dead musicians were multitalented innovative percussionist/vocalists.

In my life ( I've loved them all? ) I have only ever been made aware of one person other than myself who mastered ambidextrous handwriting. In Elizabeth's case it ostensibly came naturally. As for me this was not to be. The one thing that I do not feel I will ever have time for would be playing a musical instrument left handed. I even did my Hendrix BS impression right handed.

I ruminate that roughly ninety percent of our local classic rock offerings could easily be renamed. A couple of sardonic suggestions of mine would be Flaccid Schlock or perhaps Dork 'n Droll.

Martial Arts clothiers are in hot competition for my services as a mega celebrity endorser. I have with my minions whittled them down to a single West Coast outfitter and a properly insultingly arrogant Southern version, with the caustic business merely being used as leverage to secure the kind of unfathomably lucratively heretofore unheard of blockbuster long term deal that I am infamous for utterly fictionalizing into existence lately. Keep in mind, I think almost out loud to myself that I am supposedly over due for a semi monthly injection of muscle tensing sterilization chemicals.

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About the Creator

P. B. Friedman

Touch magazine profile. My name is Paul Friedman and I write off. The wall poems, which people don't like and good ones that they do. I'm a sports freak.

The last sentence no longer holds true. My interests are dominated by feminism.

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